All language subtitles for Hustle.S05E03.Lest.Ye.Be.Judged.DVDRip.x264

- I thought you were supposed to be getting a rest.
- What is more restful than an easy mark?

Wall to wall in this place.

Now, over your left shoulder,
company director,

absconded with the pension fund.

What he has left he wants
to invest in contemporary art.

So I gave him the heads up on
a hot new talent you represent.

Think spray paint and swans.

- Swans?
- Flocks of swans, yes!

Have you ever considered keeping
your head down, being discrete?

Discretion's rarely a substitute for
befriending the governor.

- Nice guy?
- Awfully, but dreadful chess player.

Takes all my tactical skills
to lose to him!

Did I mention he also
chairs the parole hearings?

Ah!

- Now I see.
- The governor would like a word.

I guess he got up the nerve
to take my queen, huh?!

Albert, it hasn't been
the same without you.

Mutual.
I must dash.

- Peter, thanks for looking out for him.
- No problem.

The crafty old sod runs rings around
most of the people in this place.

Yes, well, come Friday it's going to
be me trying to keep up with him again.

Not who you were expecting?

Mr Hamill has suffered a stroke.

I've taken his position
as governor.

Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.

Delighted we could become
acquainted so promptly.

You can cut the
old-world charm, Mr Stroller.

I'm never charmed.

There are going to be changes
in this institution.

Lots of them.

I wonder, you can explain these?

Explain?

They look very much like
betting slips, don't you think?

I'm sorry. I don't have any
experience in that area.

They were found yesterday during
a routine search of your cell.

I see.

That's very disappointing.
I did share my concerns with Mr Hamill

about the proclivities of some of the inmates.

You don't suspect the warders
are gambling?

- I suspect you, Mr Stroller.
- Oh, goodness!

I see previous convictions for
obtaining money by deceit.

I take it you were
some kind of conman?

Perhaps you believe...

that you can flout prison rules

and use your powers of deceit
to cover your tracks?

No, Mr Stroller.

You are an old man
whose powers have faded.

I think you should
resign yourself to that.

Given that I intend to follow Mr Hamill's
practice of chairing parole hearings,

perhaps you should also resign yourself
to the fact you'll be in this institution...

for a very long time to come.

Three days until Albert's out.

We want to pull out all the stops
for his homecoming.

A party?
A mate of mine's got a new sound system.

- Or not.
- A holiday?

- Somewhere hot?
- Good idea. But I was thinking a job.

Something special to
mark the occasion.

Nothing like taking down a pillar
of the legal community to cheer Albert up.

Anthony Kent, AKA...

The Honourable
Mr Justice Anthony Kent.

- A judge?
- That is special.

This one rolled straight off
the establishment production line.

Prep school, Eton, Cambridge.

Comes out the other end fully
qualified to dispense justice

on people whose experiences
he couldn't begin to guess at.

Kent is the last of the old guard,
out of touch and proud of it,

reputation for handing down the
harshest sentences the law allows him.

Big house in Chelsea,
bigger one in the Cotswolds,...

fat expenses claims...

Don't get me wrong,
Albert's holiday in the sun

funded by a High Court
judge, I can see the appeal.

So will Albert.

But how do we con a judge?

You sting a mark by convincing him
to play outside the rules.

- But people like Kent...
- ... make the rules.

So there's no incentive to break them.
Point taken.

But I think Kent did break the rules.

The Fortness robbery,

Kent tried the case.

The Fortness raid?

- Sorry.
- Secured warehouse inside Heathrow Airport?

Only the third-largest bullion job
in British criminal history.

We weren't exactly up on
our current affairs in 1996.

Too busy stealing computer games.

1996.

David Burdon,

Terry McAvoy.
Couple of Peckham boys, best mates.

Burdon's in the family business, thieving.

McAvoy's straight.

Then he stops being straight
and has an idea.

He brings it to Burdon.

His idea is to rob the
Fortness security warehouse.

He knows security's slack.
He's it.

He reckons he can get Burdon to
knock him about, make it look legit.

There'll just be the two of them.

The more people on the job,
the more chance of betrayal.

They're expecting a couple
of hundred thousand. What they get...

is 30 million in gold ingots.

- Nice score.
- You say that.

Police twig an inside job and pick up McAvoy,
who doesn't stand up under questioning.

Took him 20 minutes to give them Burdon.

We already know the judge
they were up before at the trial.

So Kent threw the book at them?

Yes and no.

It seems McAvoy couldn't
stomach the idea of a long stretch.

So he gets a message to Kent.

He promises him the gold
in return for a shorter sentence.

Burdon gets 15 years,
McAvoy three.

Raised a few eyebrows, lenient sentences
not being Kent's stock in trade.

But before Kent could get
his hands on the gold...

... McAvoy's stabbed to death
a month into his term.

The police are convinced Burdon ordered
the the hit, but they can't pin anything on him.

So there's 30 million in gold
buried somewhere?

Maybe, but there's
no way to get at it.

- We could think of something, surely.
- The gold isn't the point.

The point is making Kent believe
there's still a route to his gold

and getting him to pay us
to show him the way.

Exactly.
I reckon there's 100,000 in it for us.

- How?
- Excellent question.

Burdon served 11 years.

Threw himself under a goods train
a week after he was released.

- Why did he go and do that?
- Who knows?

Maybe remorse for killing his friend,

maybe because he was never
going to get to the gold

without rival gangsters
and cops watching him.

Either way, there was so little left
by the time they scraped him off the track,

they identified him from dental records.

So if everyone who knew where
the gold is is brown bread...

How do we make Kent believe
we know where it is?

We perform a miracle.

We raise Burdon from the dead.

- Mickey.
- I know what you're going to say.

- It's tight.
- There's a few margins to it.

What with Kent being a High Court
judge, used to weighing up evidence.

We keep the gold at the forefront
of his mind at all times.

Right.

Brings me to my problem.

I thought Kent's name rang a bell.

Then it came to me.
We've met, in a professional capacity.

I was doing a flop on some bloke,
turns out to be a claims adjuster.

The snotty git pressed charges.

Kent gave me 18 months.

So he can't see your face.

Sorry, mate.

You'll have to work behind
the scenes on this one.

I can do that.

With Sean.

Eh?

He's smart, but there's no way
he's ready for a mark like Kent.

Keep him with you, give him
a few pointers, bit of on-the-job training.

- He'd be like your apprentice.
- Which leaves you on your own with Emma.

Which you know I couldn't have planned.

Come on, Ash.

- I've already told you, I'm not getting involved.
- That's reassuring(!)

Not, it's unprofessional.

Besides, she's a complicated girl.

Issues.

So yeah, I've got this new job,

and it's a lot of pressure.

It's more than I'm used to.

And I've always got to have this front, look
like I'm in control, like I know what I'm doing.

But the truth is, I'm just
not sure I'm cut out for it.

It's like I'm pretending
to be someone I'm not.

Let's get on with it.

Oh, I'm terribly sorry.

So I gave him six months
on top of the five for contempt!

Hello, hello.

Empty glasses here.

Sorry?

Refills.

Oh, no!
I'm not actually a waiter.

Oh, God.
Who are you, Silk?

Probably Master of the Rolls
the way the country's going.

- I'm a journalist.
- You're what?!

Yes.
I'm Simon Ainsworth, Sunday Times.

I don't talk to the press. I know.
I had to call your office 14 times.

But I thought I'd pop along
and catch up with you here.

I'm doing a story
on the Fortness bullion raid,

I'm eager to talk to surviving parties.

- Sounds dull.
- My editor doesn't think so.

He's commissioned a piece on
the case's unanswered questions.

Last I heard, the case was closed.

- Prematurely, I feel.
- Nonsense.

- Burdon's dead.
- You think?

I know.
I saw the coroner's report.

But not the post-mortem report.

It's quite a page-turner.

Burdon was only ever identified
from his personal effects.

Oh, I'm sorry, I presumed you knew.

Crimes, verdicts and sentences,
Mr Ainsworth.

You'd be amazed how little my attention
dwells on the individuals concerned.

I was just thinking that,
by faking his own suicide,

it means Burdon would escape
police surveillance,

which would leave him free recover the gold

that he and McAvoy stole
12 years before.

That's quite a theory.

Do remind your editor,
I don't talk to the press!

How's that hearse coming along?

Ten minutes.

We're not actually going to be
conning the judge?

No, we're doing the prep work.

- Like forging documents, that kind of thing?
- Yeah, that kind of thing.

Only Mickey said you were
going to be giving me pointers.

Are they mainly going to be
prep-work pointers?

If you're lucky, we'll go on
a field trip later.

Field trip? OK.
How much later?

As much later as it takes.

All right!

I'm just going to
listen to some music.

Unless that's a problem?

I can see I'm going to have to
teach you from scratch, aren't I?

As if I haven't got enough on.

No, you're all right,
I've seen this one.

The hand is quicker than the eye,

it's one of the first cons I ever saw.

- That's not a con.
- Eh?!

That's not a con, it's a trick.

- What's the difference?
- I'll pretend I didn't hear that.

Oh!

What did you do that for?
To get your undivided attention.

They were good headphones.

I tell you what, you find the lady,
I'll pay for a new pair. 50 quid?

Where's my wallet?
Hang on.

Right.

Now it's interesting.

Yeah, it is interesting now.

Find the lady.

That one.

Look at that!

- That hardly ever happens.
- Beginner's luck.

Do you want to go again?

No, no, I should make this delivery.

I'll just sit here with the girls!

There we go.
So, didn't you get a message?

What message?
Makes sense, them being cagey.

- Didn't want to start a panic.
- Panic?

Just through here, is it, mate?

There we go.

Nice.
Sorry, I'm being very rude.

Name's Derek, nice to meet you.

Yeah, you know, people always panic
when they hear the words "Ebola virus".

This one came through from a cargo boat

via Benin a few days ago.

It's only a suspected
but it's got all the symptoms,

Sores at the back of the throat, organ failure,
massive blood loss, followed by death.

Well, obviously!

Yeah, nasty way to go.

Don't look so worried, mate, the vaccination
we've all been given gives us complete immunity.

You have been given
your vaccination, right?

Right. Don't touch me,
and come away from the van now.

Don't touch me!

In the van here...
I've got something in the van.

You'll be right as rain, you won't
have to worry about anything.

Gotcha!

Dengue fever...

I'm really sorry, mate...
Ah!

Ebola. Why is it always
in the last place you look?

Drop a couple of those, mate.

Minty?!

- What now? More forgeries?
- Field trip.

How about a nice medium-sized con?

- Definitely. Well up for that.
- Starting with our prep work.

Obviously.

Casino con.
Nice. Very plush.

- Bet this is where all the high rollers come.
- And gambling addicts.

What do you notice about
the bloke who held the door open?.

The doorman?

Yeah

- Casino doorman, about five foot eight...
- Just under his collar?

- Plaster. Must have cut himself shaving.
- Nicotine patch. Giving up smoking.

Eastern European,
bit tired, bags under the eyes.

- New girlfriend?
- Wedding ring, maybe a new baby.

It might explain why
he's trying to give up the fags.

- How'd you know he's Eastern European?
- Name like Pavel?

Name tag.

You cheating...!

Roulette.

Our job just got a lot easier.

Is that our mark?

Not if you keep
whispering that loud, no.

Listen, about tying up the mark...

- Roping.
- Roping the mark.

- How do we do that?
- Look at him.

Bloke doesn't know when to stop.

From that pile of chips, I'd say he had
a lucky streak about half an hour ago.

Now he's upping his bets,
trying to buy 'em back.

Shouldn't be too difficult.

So, how was death?

Restful.

That body bag was the only break I had all day.

It'll be an early start tomorrow too.

My guess is Kent'll be checking out
that report first thing.

- You're like one of those personal trainers.
- No pain, no gain.

The really annoying ones.

Oi.

They're getting on well,
that's nice to see.

Yeah, you look dead chuffed, all
that smoke coming out your ears!

Smoke!

Right,...

what do we know so far?

Sorry?

A little test to see if
you've been paying attention.

You didn't tell me
there was going to be a test.

- We know the layout of the casino.
- Do we?

We know our mark.

What kind of bloke he is, his game.

We also know the value of

- prep work.
- Testing.

Prep work.

I thought they were coming over.

You get your prep work right,

means you've got a less to think about
when it comes to the actual con,

leaving you to concentrate
on your job.

Oi!

- Which is?
- Again,

I didn't get the memo about the test.

To make the mark think
he's the one with the angle.

We haven't done that yet.

You sure?

Yes, I'm here to look over
some pathologists' reports.

Name?

Sir Anthony Kent, the Honourable.

You may go.

Simon Ainsworth.

I was short with you yesterday, Ainsworth.
Apologies.

Thought I might make amends.

Dug out my trial notes
on the Fortness case.

Came across a few apposite details
that might interest you.

I did some checking up.

Turns out you were right about Burdon's body.
Identified from the effects.

Then you agree he's still alive?

So far I agree that
it's an outlandish possibility.

Burdon's arrest,
it pre-dates routine DNA sampling,

so there's nothing to match there.

Fingertips burnt away,
teeth mangled...

it could have been anybody.

You add the attentions of a plastic surgeon
and Burdon could be

any of the strangers
you pass in the street.

Where did the story come from?

His daughter.

- There is no daughter.
- No, no.

It seems Burdon had a lovechild.

I got this from someone at the magistrates' court
who'd heard it from the duty solicitor.

Name?

Won't do you any good,
the solicitor won't talk.

Not to you, maybe.

I'm a High Court judge, remember?

Opens certain doors.

If I'm to convince the police to reopen
this case, I'll need more than theory.

I'll need a name at least.

Supposing any of this is fact,

and Burdon really is
still out there...

... he can't be allowed to profit
from his crimes.

You do see that, don't you?

You look different, Eddie.

Do I?

Yeah, somehow sort of...

..buff.

Have you been working out?

I suppose

shifting those beer crates around all day,
it's bound to have some sort of effect.

Ah!

I should say!

It's very difficult for me
to reveal my sources.

As a journalist,
it's extremely unethical.

I'm sorry, I've got to take this.

Hello, Robin?

No, no, I'm with someone,
as a matter of fact.

No, absolutely.

Of course it is, of course I know.

I'll call you if...

Keep looking,
I'll call you later on.

Sorry about that.

- Where are you going?
- To find Burdon.

You'd only slow me down.

Yeah, I mean, I've never been in that sort of

conventionally handsome,
full head of hair thing, you know?

You couldn't do me a massive
favour, could you, Eddie?

Callaghan Brown Solicitors.

Putting you through.

Amanda Hynes.

Your Honour.

Yes, certainly.
I recall it was last year, wasn't it?

The Camberwell magistrates.

Teenage offender, quite out of control,
kept shouting about how her

father had masterminded
the whole Fortness robbery.

It was fantastic stuff!

Yeah, said her father still
had it stashed away somewhere!

No, her name escapes me,
I'd have to check my files.

Now? Well, yes, certainly I could.

Could you hold one moment,
Your Honour?

Here we are.

Yes, and I have an address
you might want to try as well.

Ainsworth.
Again.

Stalking me now?

You're off to see Burdon's daughter,
aren't you?

I called that solicitor again.
Still didn't give me a name, but

she did tell me that I was the
second person who'd contacted her,

and it didn't take me long to
work out who the first person was.

Well done, you.

You do realise I'm coming with you?

Your professional qualms are
your concern, Mr Ainsworth.

My concern is justice.

I'm not squeamish about cutting
corners to see it achieved.

So this is about Burdon?

It's got nothing to do with
30 million in gold ingots?

You may have to explain that remark.

Well, just that a sum like that
might distract someone from their vocation.

Word on the gangster grapevine?

Do you know what criminals do all day,
the ones that get caught?

They sit in their cells
and think up fairytales

about the bad men who sent them there.

Can't imagine why they'd want to spread
malicious gossip about me.

Can you?

Coming?

Yes, I'm just gonna let my office
know where I'll be.

Tanya, put me through to Robin.

We're going to need to force his hand.

I'm on it.

- You got all that?
- Yeah, I've got it.

- I want to know why.
- You know Mickey, cautious to a fault.

- There's something else to this con.
- Gotta go, Emma.

You're not telling me everything.

- Ash.
- I wish there was more time to tell.

Adios.

Thanks, Eddie.

Animals.

Oh, er...
Is your mum in?

Who is it?

Hi, we'd like to talk to you.

About your father.

Go on, darling.

- Who are you? Police?
- No. No, we're not police.

When was it you last saw
David Burdon?

Last year.
In a wooden box.

Really? Because a reliable source
has you claiming six months ago

that your father was still alive.

That's back when I was drinking,
I didn't know what I was saying.

My dad's dead, all right?

A goods train hitting you at
90 miles an hour'll do that to you.

Do you know where he hid the
gold from the Fortness raid?

Oh yeah, course I know where
there's 30 million in gold(!)

I just hang around here
to keep my feet on the ground(!)

So your father never said anything
to you about the whereabouts of the gold?

We didn't have the father-daughter
chats we shoulda done.

We don't think it was his body
that was identified.

No.
We think that he faked his own suicide

so that he could
get to the gold, unobserved.

Do you?

If you were to give him up,

I'm sure there'd be
a substantial reward.

Enough to get away from here.

You think you owe him loyalty.

He never showed me any.

Well, then...

I'd need a head start.

Get me and Kyleesha away from here
before he works out who gave you the name.

So it's true.

Somebody was going to work it out.

- I'm sure the authorities could arrange...
- Hundred grand.

- Excuse me?
- From you two, upfront.

What makes you think we'd
give you that kind of money?

The fact that the gold's still out there.

That's what you're after, isn't it?

He hasn't had a chance
to get his hands on it yet.

Wait, hold on.
How do you know that,

if you don't know where the gold is?

If I told you that, that'd be a clue.

Clues are a hundred grand as well.

- Where was this taken?
- What?

Your father standing in what looks like
a timber yard. Where was it taken?

That's not going to help you.

He bought the timber yard
when I was nine.

It's the last picture of him
before that gold drove him mad.

There's no record of
Burdon owning a timber yard.

Kyleesha, can you turn
the TV down, babes?

Probably cos he never bought
anything in his own name.

Oi!
Can you turn it...

Turn it down!

Do you know what...

why don't the two of you jog on

and go and do your detective
work somewhere else, all right?

After you've figured out none of it's gonna help,
you come back with my 100K.

So it looks like Burdon IS alive.

Why don't you let me
look at that photograph?

I know you took it.

I know what you're thinking.

You're thinking,
"Hmm..."

"There's no record of the police
ever having searched a timber yard."

You think perhaps you're looking at the place
the gold is buried and you've never been closer.

What are you implying?

That you took the bung the first time round
and you've been after the gold ever since.

All you have to do is
find that timber yard.

Thing is, it's not just you
that's after the gold.

I am too.

But me... I'm looking at
the person Burdon's with.

It stands to reason
that the yard is in his name.

Could trace it...
Yeah, I reckon that'll be the quickest way.

You don't know who he is, do you?

Hmm?
No, me neither.

But I know a man who will.

- All right, boys?
- Anthony Kent, this is...

Oh, but you two know each other
anyway, don't you?

That's right.

- You sent me down.
- Yes...

For...

He said your attention didn't
dwell on the individuals involved.

It'll come to you.

Give us a butcher's.

You know him?

Yeah, I know him.

He knows all the crooks. And the
crooks' friends. Proper villain, see.

Opens certain doors.

Who are you?

You can call me the man who's been after
that Burdon girl for the last six months.

Yes, I know, doesn't
trip off the tongue, does it?

Came to this fellow for help.

The only thing he didn't know
was where Burdon's daughter was.

Tried everything we could
to get that solicitor to talk.

But in the end we had
to enlist some outside help.

Cheers for that.

You've been great.

I suppose you could always try
paying the daughter, find Burdon that way.

I tell you what?
I'll race you.

Bring my soul in prison
so I may give thanks to your name.

Mmm?

Oh, Governor!
Oh, hi!

My bible study group, what can you
say, the good news keeps spreading!

Yesterday, I warned you that your flouting
of prison rules had come to my attention.

- I thank you for that conversation.
- A matter of hours later

you undergo some kind of
religious conversion.

I prefer the term, "reawakening".

Little bit sudden, don't you think?

I believe St Paul experienced something
comparable to that, on the road...

You're fooling no-one with
this sham, Mr Stroller.

- ... to Damascus.
- Least of all me.

There is nothing different or special
about you. You're a common criminal.

And all criminals, no matter how
clever they feel themselves to be,

leave some evidence of their
misdeeds. I will find that evidence.

I will present it
to the parole board, and you...

will serve the remainder of
your sentence to the last minute.

May I be excused for choir practice?

OK, part two of your field trip.

You planning to keep that expression
on your face once we're inside?

Sorry.

Only, a constant grin like that's
liable to alert our mark.

I was just thinking, how much
do we stand to make on this one?

It's not just about the money,
all right?

You're on, by the way.

Pavel, how's the little one?

Still keeping you up?

Ooh!

Sorry, I forgot. I forgot.

Hello?

Hello?
Hello, mate, how are you?

Yeah...

Yes!

Rough night?

- Go away.
- That bad, eh?

- Funny game, roulette.
- Pure luck, no skill, no system.

Posh slot machine.

Except for sector targeting.

If you can calculate the velocity of the
counter-clockwise spin of the wheel...

I know what sector targeting is.

... combine it with the position the wheel
is at when the croupier releases the ball,

and the speed the ball is
travelling after two spins,

you can work out roughly...
where that ball will land.

No-one can make those calculations
in the time available. It can't be done.

True.

Unless you cheat.

Say hello...

to my lucky phone.

Is that one of those mobiles?

What, the ones
with the laser scanner inside,

reads the speed of the ball
and does the sums for you? Might be.

- I've read about those!
- Keep your voice down!

Don't look at my arm, look straight ahead.
Understand?

- Where'd you get it?
- Don't ask me that,

ask me how much I made last week.

- How much?
- �83.000.

Ask me if I'm happy.

- Are you happy?
- No.

Want to know why?
Course you do, it's an intriguing tale.

The casino's on to me.

Started getting funny looks
from the security people.

If I keep winning like this
they'll shut me down.

I won't be able to place a chip
within a 50-mile radius of the Edgware Road.

I can't find a way
out of my predicament.

Can you?

- Yeah?
- Fine, yeah.

Right, split the winnings down the middle.

50-50, like we agreed.
Look. Can we just do this?

Aren't you forgetting something?

Can't have you running off
with my lucky phone, can we?

Place your bets, please.

Place your bets, please...

Blue suit... loud tie...
Copy.

- What? What?
- Let's not make a scene, sir.

All right, Pavel.
Carry on.

- I'm on my way home, let me go home!
- Don't say a word.

What's this?

My employers do not take kindly
to being stolen from.

- Somebody put me up to it.
- We know. We've been watching.

At this present moment the gentleman in
question is upstairs in my employer's office

- waiting for the police.
- You don't understand.

- My job, the nature of my work.
- No, we understand.

We understand we've got video...

We've got video footage of you
cheating at roulette.

- And yet...
- Look, I'm sorry, all right.

And yet... you're out here.

Unless we go back inside,
nothing's logged.

You and I never met.

This can all go away.

Yes! Em, come and check out
a master at work.

Three-card monte?
With Ash?

- You do realise you can't win?
- I appreciate the sisterly concern,

but I think you'll find I'm the
exception that proves the rule.

What can I say?
The boy has a natural flair.

- Go easy on him.
- I will.

So I'm guessing that things
went well at the casino, then?

Yeah, not bad.
Tell her how I was.

Passable.

Hear that?
"Passable"!

Watch closely.

What do you think
for Albert's holiday?

Very nice.
Oh, not Indonesia, though.

He sold the air force some fighter jets
in the '70s, and they still haven't arrived.

All right.

I was also thinking a stretch limo outside
the prison gates, is that too tacky?

- Just tacky enough.
- Good.

I am seldom wrong
about people, Mr Stroller,

and you've
confirmed my worst suspicions.

Running a betting operation
inside prison...

The prayer group?

I don't want to hear any more.

There is a cache of money
somewhere in this cell

and I intend to find it.

Be very, very careful with that.

I spent an awful lot of time on it,
it's very delicate.

Break it.

It appears we have
our evidence, Mr Stroller.

Kent should have got
his money together by now.

When he hands it over,
give him this.

That reminds me...
Mickey,

I didn't know you were acting secretary of
the Cavendish Cats Benevolent Fund.

Neither did I.

- Hello?
- I've got your money.

I hope you've got a name for me.

- Where's your friend?
- Forget my friend.

My friend isn't carrying
a briefcase full of money.

I see now why he couldn't
get his hands on the gold.

Is that going to be a problem?

Oh, I shouldn't think so.

I'm a high court judge.

Beautiful.

I meant the money.

Come one, let's go get the boys
and pick up Albert.

I can't believe Kent paid up!

Yeah, Albert will be chuffed.

Albert, they're ready for you, mate.

Case 174B3.

Albert Stroller.

We did what?

Nobbled the parole board.

- I knew there was more to this.
- When did we do that?

Come Friday it'll be me trying
to keep up with him again.

- Friday?
- Yeah, Albert's parole hearing.

So you don't know about the new
Governor that's just come in?

Not a lot gets past her.

Um...

Peter, you wouldn't happen to know the other
names of the other members of the parole board...

would you?

So, yeah, I've got this new job,

and it's a lot of pressure,
it's more than I'm used to.

I've always got to have this front
and look like I'm in control and

like I know what I'm doing.

It's like I'm pretending
to be someone I'm not.

Thank you.

Thank you.

We know who you are, Mr Campbell.

Soon you'll make the acquaintance of a man
who is extremely important to my employers.

Follow the instructions inside
to the letter.

Is showing comprehension
of the nature of his crimes

and I have no hesitation in recommending
Albert Stroller for parole.

You said that we were setting up
that psychiatrist for a future con!

Yeah, well, we said a lot of things.

I see now why he couldn't
get his hands on the gold.

Is that going to be a problem?

Oh, I shouldn't think so.

So Kent thinks Albert is Burdon?

Why did we get the judge and the
psychologist but not the Governor?

Majority rule.
We only needed two out of the three.

Besides, from what I've been told,
the Governor is unconnable.

What's the difference
between a trick and a con?

- Right. OK, the difference...
- Confidence.

A true con artist
is all about giving the mark...

... confidence.

It's nice to let the mark think
he's got something up his sleeve.

But always always, always make
sure you've got something up yours.

I don't think he's got it.

- Teaching aid?
- Good idea.

- No, not three-card monte...
- Three-card monte!

If you want to play some three-card monte, Ash,
we can play some three-card monte.

I'm just gonna take your money again.

Right, should be a
very instructive game.

You got some real capital to play
with now and all.

Yeah.
I do.

Now, find the lady, yeah?

Ash.

Yes, Sean?

Do you already know
I marked the cards?

Well, it's very late
for that question, Sean,

seeing as you've already placed your stake.

- That's the con, dummy.
- Where's my wallet, hang on.

He let you think you had the angle
and then watched you raise your stakes.

Can I ask you a question, Sean?

With all that money on
the turn of this card,

and everything you've learned...

... are you feeling confident?

Get off!

Hang on, does Albert know
about the Kent con?

Don't worry about Albert.

Get in, Mr Burdon.

Excuse me?

Or perhaps you'd rather go back to prison
for the murder of Albert Stroller.

I don't think I'd like that at all.

I must compliment
your plastic surgeon

and you can drop the accent,
I know who you are.

I'll do my best.

It's tricky habit to break, though.

Why don't I tell you
what I already know.

I'd like that.

I know you own a timber yard,

I know what's buried in it,

and I know you're going
to take me there.

Are you absolutely sure
this is the right place?

Of course I'm sure.
I told him not to sell.

I said, "Don't sell, no matter who
the buyer is, don't sell the timber yard."

- Welcome home, Albert!
- Missed ya.

Nice touch, by the way,
taking Kent to a prison.

Suddenly it came to me.
A jail built over his buried treasure.

- I love the irony.
- What did I tell you? Nothing to worry about.

Best improv man in the free world.

- What if Kent remembers who Ash is and...
- What?

Tells the police we used him
to fix a parole hearing?

- What, for me?
- Coming home present.

Ooh! Way, way too much.

Oh, and...judging by the postmark,
I figured this had something to do with you...

Ah, yes, it's always difficult
to move hard cash out of a prison.

Sean.

Graduation present.

- Cheers, Ash.
- Three-card monte.

Yeah. And I'll tell you
something else, Albert.

We didn't just con
Kent to fix your parole.

- We played another con as well.
- You did?

Mm-hm.

Well, I'm really very touched,
you didn't have go to all that trouble.

Well, we couldn't afford
to take the risks, Albert.

I think I had the situation in hand.

You what?

Were you running
your own con, Albert?

I might have been. I told you that
place was filled with easy marks.

Oh, wait, you didn't...

Did you?

He conned the Governor.

Perhaps you ought to resign
yourself to the fact...

... that you're going to be in this facility
for a very long time to come.

It appears we have our
evidence, Mr Stroller.

I told myself it was justifiable that

the inmates would just spend
their money on some other vice

when they could lose it all
to me for a bigger cause.

The Cavendish Cats Benevolent Fund?

Yes, I just hope that from the
wrongs I've done some good can come,

to cats.

Your winnings have been going to...

To cats, yes.

I can't bear to see
the little creatures in distress.

All of this... has been fundraising?

I know we shouldn't break the
prison rules, but... You see, uh...

I see their tiny faces, and...

And they haunt me.

I confess that I have

jumped to some rather uncharitable
conclusions about Mr Stroller.

I've had occasion to
revise my thinking.

You said the Governor was
"unconnable".

No, there's such thing as
"unconnable".

Not with the right grifter.

I mean, even the toughest mark
has his Achilles heel.

Yes, well, well done and everything,

but the Governor's only one.
You needed two out of three.

Once the governor was on board I
figured the other two would follow.

Yeah, but... you didn't KNOW.

Well, I had a pretty good idea.

So we got three out of three, then?

Nothing so satisfying, don't you think?
Complete.

You are a crafty old sod.

To Albert, back where he belongs.

- To Albert.
- To Albert.

Now, next time I con you, you
don't get a refund, all right?

That's if it's you conning me. Next
time might be the other way round.

Three socks - three, pop socks - nil.

There's no two ways about it.
Next time it'll be the other way round.

You know? I still don't see how you
knew the others would come on board.

The Governor's used to getting her way.

- So, once we had her in the bag...
- Yeah, but hold on. She...

I don't mean to imply that
your cons were futile.

They were just...
a little over the top.

Over the top?

Superfluous.

�.� THX to chocolate! �.�