All language subtitles for Pb.S06E01.1080p.HDTV.H264

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, she's been seen
with another man.

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.

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!

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.

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 whisky 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 had 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 foreswore 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. Ou est L'Hotel Robert?

They think we're distillery men
here to take our whisky 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-haaa!

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.

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 has brought you
all presents.

Oh! Yes!

Race ya! 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!

Ugggh!

No!

Ugggh!

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
whisky,

from navigating the waters

and avoiding American
border patrols.

But now that whisky 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 whisky 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! Ha-ha!

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 whisky 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.

Tch, 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? Mmm.

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 whisky,
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?

Mmm-hmm.

Fuck.

Do you know who this man is?

All right, come on, Arthur.

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.

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? Whisky?

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 whisky 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 whisky, 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 got 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.

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?

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 licenses.

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 and
Uncle Jack. You're the devil,
Tommy Shelby!

You're the fucking devil!
I'm ready for the conversation.