Original subtitles

Well, you're dirty and sweet

Clad in black, don't look back, and I love you

You're dirty and sweet, oh yeah

Well, you're slim and you're weak

You got the teeth of the hydra upon you

You're dirty, sweet and you're my girl

Get it on, bang a gong

Get it on

Get it on, bang a gong

Get it on

Well, you're built like a car

You got a hubcap diamond star halo

You're built like a car, oh yeah

Well, you're an untamed youth

That's the truth, with your cloak full of eagles

You're dirty, sweet and you're my girl

Get it on

Bang a gong, get it on

Get it on

Bang a gong, get it on.

Another Terry Leather low-mileage gem.

Got your glad rags sorted out for your wedding tomorrow?

Yeah, course, Terry. New suit...

two buttons, nine-inch bum flaps.

Nice. Ingrid will like that.

So you're getting married tomorrow, Ingrid?

I hope so.

Go on. Get off home. Go and make yourself

look more beautiful than you already are.

If that's possible.

Terry.

Promise you won't get Eddie too legless tonight, will ya?

- At his stag do. - Just going round to pub.

Couple of pints and a sing-song.

Fucking what are you trying to do to me, eh?

I've got Jessell's money!

The problem is it's tied up in these cars

and you wankers want to trash the lot of them.

Mr. Jessell doesn't care about your inventory.

Mr. Jessell wants to know when he's getting paid.

Any day, I swear, Perky.

- What did you call me? - I called you Perky, Perky.

Everyone calls you Perky and him Pinky.

- Pinky and Perky? - Yeah.

They're fucking cartoon pigs on the telly.

What, people call us that behind our backs?

Well, they're not gonna say it to your face, are they?

Well, you just bloody did.

Yeah, well, you got me rattled.

You're very intimidating.

Don't make us come back again.

Not every customer's a satisfied customer.

What are you doing around here, Martine?

- What are you doing tonight? - Tonight?

Tonight Eddie's stag do. I'm taking him out for a drink.

- Why? - I've got a proposition for you, Terry.

A proposition?

Can you meet me at the Player's Club before you see the boys?

And I'll fill you in on the details.

Make it 9:00.

- Morning, Gale. - Morning, Tim.

Top floor.

- Summoned by the gods? - Something like that.

Get up to any mischief this weekend?

Don't know what you're talking about.

I'm a married man.

What do you think, am I presentable?

Not sure about the tie, darling.

Oh, what's this?

Peace and love?

Too much of that nonsense, we'll both be out of a job.

Michael Abdul Malik.

Calls himself "Michael X" in homage to Malcolm X,

his American counterpart.

The pinko press would have us believe

this... Michael X

is a crusading champion of the poor and oppressed.

And the black Robin Hood of Notting Hill.

The richer, whiter and more famous,

the more they fawn over him.

The truth is, he's a slum landlord,

a drug dealer and a vicious pimp

who should have been imprisoned years go.

Are you not charging outrageous rent

to my brothers and sisters, Mr. Brown?

I'm charging the same as your slumlord friend, Lew Vogel.

10 quid a week is too much for this shithole.

You know...

I always wanted to meet a white man

by the name of Brown.

You know what this is?

It is a slave collar, and the white man

made my mothers and fathers

wear this to bend them to his will.

Can I bend you to my will, Mr. Brown?

He's your faithful dog now, Michael.

Michael, I don't think we should get our hopes up here.

Kidnapping, extortion,

assault on this man Brown here,

as well as your previous problems with the law...

I mean, you could be looking at 10 to 20 years for this.

I don't think so. I am smarter

and better protected than whitey thinks.

All rise.

It seems Michael X has managed to keep himself out of jail

by threatening to release damning photographs

of a certain royal personage.

Until we get our hands on these snaps, the police can't move.

The public prosecutor won't move

and the home office doesn't want to know.

Has anyone actually seen these photographs?

Yes. But at the moment I'm not at the liberty

to say who that person is.

We've had Michael X under surveillance for quite a while.

He keeps a safe deposit box at the Lloyds Bank in Marylebone.

We believe that's where the photos are located.

Well, seems straightforward enough.

I'll send a team into this bank

and take whatever he's got in the safe deposit box.

That would have to be sanctioned at the highest level.

- And that's not going to happen. - Ah.

Do you see our problem?

There can be no connection to 506.

So you want me to come up with something

that avoids any accountability for anyone.

We'd welcome suggestions, Tim.

And if it all goes pear-shaped,

I assume it's my ass on the line.

You're young and ambitious, Tim.

Chance to make a name for yourself.

Thank you, sir.

Passengers arriving on flight 47...

Excuse me there, miss. Can I have a word?

Yes.

- Where have you been? - Morocco.

I'll have to check your underwear.

Be my guest.

- We found what we were looking for. - Found what?

What were you looking for?

Oh, Tim, thank God.

I'm in a spot of bother.

- What have you been up to? - Nothing much. You?

I was in Morocco recently.

- Business or pleasure? - Bit of both.

Drinks are on me.

So are we gonna sit here all night making small talk?

I know you, Terry.

And I know your mates.

You've always been looking for the big score,

the one that makes sense of everything.

I have it for you.

- What? - A bank.

A bank? As in rob?

How would you know about a bank?

I've been seeing this guy, runs his own business...

security systems.

Next month, they're installing new alarms at a bank in Marylebone.

Seems like the trains have been setting off the trembler alarms

in the vault and they've had to turn them off.

So for a week or so, they won't have any.

Now why would he tell you all this?

We were having a laugh about it.

"Imagine if half the villains in London knew about this," he said.

And I thought, "I know half the villains in London.

I grew up with some of them."

Look, me and my mates might have been involved

with the odd bit of skullduggery,

but can you see us tooled up taking on a bank like the James gang?

No, this isn't about waving a water pistol at a cashier's head.

This is about getting into the basement where the deposit boxes are...

hidden, secret wealth.

Money and jewels that are safe to steal

'cause people won't report it.

Hold on, hold on. We can't talk about this here.

It's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Terry.

We can't pass it up.

I didn't expect this from you tonight, Martine.

What did you expect?

I'll have to think about it.

Better get off to your stag party.

Thanks for the drink.

Eddie tells me his brother invited you to the wedding.

- Are you going? - I'll see you there.

- Can I get a Campari and soda, no ice? - Yes, sir.

Thank you. Well, Tim sweetie, what do you think?

Is he up for it?

Maybe.

Cheers, gorgeous.

- So, are you coming in? - I don't know, it's late.

Do you need to run home like a good little boy?

I guess I've got time.

What exactly do you do?

Bit of this, bit of that.

How did you and Hakim meet?

I met Hakim in Los Angeles last spring.

He was raising money for a black Montessori school

and writing his life story.

And what an extraordinary life it has been.

The book is called "From the Dead Level: Malcolm X and Me."

I've read the manuscript. Hakim is a poet,

the voice of the black soul.

Our friend is throwing a thing next week to celebrate

the launch of brother Hakim's book.

And you are all invited.

Hakim, tell us more about your book.

It's about being born black in America.

Can any of you imagine what it is like to be born a black man in this world?

Can any of you white women imagine what it would be like

to bring a black baby into this world?

Evening, sir.

Go on! Come on!

Yeah!

What are you thinking?

Why are we even having this conversation?

We're not...

Here's your beer.

We are not bank robbers.

Maybe that's why we could get away with it.

It's a bit daunting, isn't it?

Do you know what scares me more?

Living and dying with nothing to show for it.

Do you know how old Mozart was when he composed his first minuet?

- No. - Five.

Five... a fucking minuet.

And how would you know that fact, Terry?

Because it's tattooed on that stripper's ass, Kevin.

What the fuck's it matter how I know?

It's a fact and you're missing the point, Kev.

What I'm trying to say is, it's time we stop fucking about

and stop picking the shit from under our fingernails.

Shtum, lads. Coppers at 12:00.

Oh, what are you two doing here personally?

I thought you were way past being your own bagman, Gerry.

Your associate, Sonia Bern, has raised prices

at that knocking shop of hers.

- 120 quid, up from 100. - And your point?

A rising tide lifts all ships, mate.

I think we're owed some money.

- 'Cause even Sonia's can be raided. - Yeah, you'd do that, wouldn't you?

You'd kill the goose that lays your golden egg.

Well, that would be dumb, wouldn't it?

But then again, everyone knows coppers are dumb.

Well, you can do one thing for me.

You can stop your colleagues

from having their boys' night out in my clubs.

They're loud, they're lewd

and they expect free oral sex.

Do you know what? That's disgusting.

I mean, most of them have families.

We'll pass the word along.

Lew, you tell your greedy little bobbies

to go and find their perks elsewhere.

No one's gonna bother me.

My patrons could have a lot of these bent coppers put out to pasture.

Well, I say spread the wealth around and keep the peace.

Five quid a week extra.

That's all it's worth.

I'll pass it on.

Drysdale.

Urquhart.

Lord Drysdale,

can I offer you a drink before your session?

Very kind of you, Sonia.

Good to see you.

As well, Urquhart, as well.

Good girl.

Tighter! Yes.

That's a good girl.

- Everything okay? - Yeah.

You have been a very naughty boy.

Louder. Louder!

- I can't. - Come on.

Give him a snog, Ingrid!

Come on.

Nice work, Eddie! Nice work.

- Hello. - Saw you in a magazine the other day...

Campari ad on the beach.

- Nice. - Must have been an old one.

- I'm not modeling anymore. - I don't know why.

- Still a knockout. - What are you doing these days, Dave?

Me? Bit of film work.

- Extra, you know. - And you, Kevin?

You're still snapping, I see.

The wedding photos... no no. It's just a favor for the family.

Fashion's my game, fashion and passports.

And the odd snap of a wayward husband.

- Thank you, Dave. - So what's the verdict, boys?

We're interested.

First thing we should do is take a look at the place,

suss it out, maybe open a box of our own.

I've already done that. We can go and have a look tomorrow.

Tomorrow it is.

- Heads up, lads. - All right?

- She's adorable, your little one. - She's off.

What a gorgeous flower girl your eldest made.

- Thanks, Catherine. - I do envy you.

- Kev, want to dance? - Yeah, come on.

It was lovely to see you all. Ciao.

- Ciao. - All right, Wen?

All right.

She envies me.

She being sarcastic?

I suppose what she meant was money can't buy what we have.

Didn't you used to go out with her?

No, love, that was Kevin.

He had this big thing for her.

- And you didn't? - No.

Not like me and you... love at first sight.

Oh yeah.

I remember that night. You was with your mate Audrey at that disco.

Saw this gorgeous little bum in a pencil skirt.

I thought, "I've got to have that."

But Audrey, she already had a bloke, so I pulled you.

- Cheeky sod. - Daddy!

Daddy, come and dance with me.

Come on, Dad!

- I'll just shoot it. - Piss off, Kevin.

Good morning. I'd like to access

my safe deposit box, please.

Martine Love. L-O-V-E.

Certainly, madam.

Taxi!

- You're an actor, right? - That's right.

I did a couple of films for you, Mr. Vogel.

Yeah, right.

Where to, guv?

So what were these films you were in?

- Forget about it. - Go on.

Technically, it's what you call...

pornography.

- You're joking. - No.

So you've been going round town with a 12-inch mutton dagger

hanging down your pants?

That's nothing to be ashamed of.

Nice.

Fake. Got a posh party at the weekend.

This is the one. The lease is available.

Finally.

- How do I look? Good? - Not your best, Dave.

Here we go.

So how come you got the inside dope on this place, Martine?

She knows this bloke... runs a security company.

Bloke? Is it serious? Are you getting married?

He is married. All the better ones are.

Here we go. Marylebone Road and Baker Street.

On the corner here's the bank,

next door is the Chicken Inn and at 189... Le Sac.

In the back here is an underground car park

with direct access to the shops' basements.

We can pull in here from Glentworth Street

into the car park for drop-offs and pick-ups

without being seen from the street.

We'll dig a tunnel from the basement of the shop

under the Chicken Inn and pop up in the safe deposit vault.

I got a question.

What do us lot know about digging tunnels?

Nothing. But I know a man who does.

So what do you reckon, Bambas?

What do I reckon?

I reckon I know you guys.

But I don't know her.

Don't worry about Martine, she's solid.

We go way back.

Terry, you have been up to some mischief in your time.

But this... this is serious shit, my friend.

Don't you think it's a little out of your league?

Maybe it's time we stepped up to the first division.

There's going to be reinforced concrete under the vault.

You're going to need a thermic lance, a jackhammer,

a generator, lights, ropes, cables, the works.

About 40 feet of digging before we're under the bank.

Hey, we could hire some micks from Camden Town to do the digging.

That's brilliant, Dave. Why don't we just

pay their National Insurance contributions?

And then you won't have to get dirt on your Tommy Nutter suit.

This way, Michael. One more shot. This way.

Thank you, that's great.

- What are your plans? - I am returning to Trinidad

to liberate my brothers and sisters

from the enslavement of the British colonialists.

What about the charges you are facing?

- How can you leave England? - They are liars and cowards.

If they had anything against me but their fear of me,

I'd be tried and jailed.

- See you later, Bambo. - We're gonna need a front-man on this,

someone who can sign the lease on the shop and look the business.

I know someone... Guy Singer.

Calls himself "the Major." It's a load of bollocks,

but he's got this right posh accent

if anyone comes nosing about.

A bit tight under the arms, don't you think?

Traditional fit, sir.

If one can't raise one's hands above one's head

it tends to inhibit any impulsive acts of surrender.

I'll be right back, sir.

What on earth are you doing here?

Got a bit of business for you, Guy.

You might be tempted.

Sit down, love.

What do you think you're doing?

Taking the E for a test drive.

Tell your boss he can have his inventory back

when he settles Mr. Jessell's debt.

And it'd better be soon

or we'll be back to tap Terry's kneecaps.

If I was you two, I'd be looking for another job.

- Lovely. Cheers. - Cheers.

So, come on then, what don't I know?

Romantic dinner on a Monday night?

Look, honey...

I'm gonna be working some strange hours

over the next week or two.

Don't ask me what I'm doing because I don't want to lie to you.

What are you doing?

Look, I know I've caused us a few problems,

but those cars aren't selling.

All I was trying to do is get out of the game.

- This thing's gonna put us there. - Will it?

Yeah.

In a better place.

It's for all of us...

for you and the kids.

And how afraid do I have to be, Terry?

Maybe it'd be a smart thing if you went and stayed with your aunt...

in case things turn to custard.

So we are settled... 25% to run my girls

till I return from Trinidad.

It's all right, you don't have to worry.

I'll look after your little flock of birds like they were my own.

So long as you remember they are not your own.

Lew, while I'm back in Trinidad, I can arrange for a shipment

of some high-grade ganja.

Not interested. You want my opinion?

I think drugs are responsible for the moral decay

of this country's young.

No, smut smut and more smut...

that's my special area of interest.

You should think about it.

With these goodies you could make a lot of dough,

especially with the police in your pocket.

No, I'm paying enough bung as it is,

but probably not as much as you're donating

to be permitted to leave our fair shores.

Not a shilling. I have something so special,

I don't need to pay anyone.

And what would that be, Michael?

Sorry, Lew.

Well...

whatever it is, you crafty bugger, I hope you're keeping it safe.

Yes, as safe as it can be in the place that you recommended.

- You're late. - Sorry.

This is the Major... Major Guy Singer,

the final member of our team.

I don't know this man.

- Who are you? - None of your business.

No secrets around here. The Major's a con artist.

Usually elderly widows.

There's no need to bring that up.

Now he's the official new owner of Le Sac.

Handbags and leather accessories for the discerning lady.

Nice.

I told the district planner's office about the remodeling.

They gave me the specs for the sewage, drainage,

gas and power lines.

We'll have to go deep to miss that lot.

- What's this for? - That is the thermic lance.

It cuts through concrete and metal.

We're doing this, eh?

I mean, we're bloody going for it.

- Let's see what this thing can do. - Good idea, Kev.

Give us a demonstration, Bambo.

Okay, hold this. Hold it. Here.

Kevin, go stand over there by the oxygen.

Here we go.

- Turn it off! - Off off off off!

- Right off! - Loco!

They know what they're doing, these people, do they?

Oh, absolutely. Professional criminals.

What's the worst-case scenario?

They get caught and go to jail. No possible connection to us.

What about this model you're screwing?

What promises have you made to keep her in line?

None that can't be broken.

Look, she's our only tie to the bank operation.

If things do go belly-up, it'll only take one cut

to sever the knot.

What's Gale Benson up to?

I believe she's working her way into Michael X's inner sanctum.

Could you sign my book please?

Daddy!

I am so glad you decided to come.

This is my father, Sir Leonard Plugge.

Always happy to meet Gale's new friends.

Her new name is Hale Kimga.

It's an anagram of the letters of our names... Hakim and Gale.

- And your name is? - Hakim.

- Hakim Jamal. - Right.

Excuse me.

Hello, gorgeous.

So, where's the author?

He's over there signing his masterpiece.

Why don't you both drop by the house this weekend

and introduce Mr. Jamal to mother?

Sorry, Daddy, can't do that.

We're popping on down to the islands for a while.

Let me get you a drink.

Good luck with your book.

So have you read this book of his?

- You must be joking. - Right.

You're probably undercover

spying on black power's insidious threat to the British way of life.

That's very funny.

Tell me, is our little enterprise still shipshape?

We're currently on schedule, Tim.

We're taking over the shop on Friday afternoon.

I know if this stuffs up, I'm in poo-poo land.

We have a blue transit van just pulled up,

"Clacy Builders" on the side.

And we have one man entering the shop.

Construction crew for Le Sac.

I've got a question.

What do we do with all the dirt we're gonna dig out the hole?

It's all been worked out, Dave.

We'll dig another hole in that corner over there and put it in that.

Over.

If we're to get the job done before the bank opens on Monday morning,

- we'd better get a wriggle on. - Want to do the honors, Martine?

This is it. Here we go.

Watch your nails, Martine.

- Yeah! - Yeah!

Let's get this show on the road.

Some racket there, Alf.

Bloody hell! What's going on?

Kev!

Dave, come on, mate.

Dave, you need a break.

- I'll take over. - Cheers, Major.

Heads up!

Where's Dave?

No idea.

- Where'd you get to? - Just checking the door was locked.

Of course it's locked, Dave.

I locked it.

Hang on. What have we got here?

What does this copper want?

Christ, he's not going in there, is he?

- I'll go. - Shit! Dave, get back here.

Stop! Hold it down! Someone's knocking.

Stop! There's somebody at the door of the shop!

- There's somebody... - Bambas!

Bambas! Hold on.

There's somebody at the door.

- I don't mind going. - It's my job.

- Coppers. - It's the Old Bill!

Good evening. You're working late.

Around the clock, Officer.

Expanding our storage, trying to complete renovations for the grand...

If you don't mind, sir.

Excuse me!

You using a jackhammer down there?

Yeah, you had some complaints, Officer?

Yeah, from some of your neighbors.

We'll try to keep it down, all right?

Right.

I wonder how they talked their way out of that one.

Tim, Quinn here.

Yeah, we just had a copper go into the shop.

We're not sure why. He's gone now.

All clear.

We need a lookout, someone on a roof somewhere.

- We've got the walkie-talkies. - What about Eddie?

He's a good lad, we can trust him.

No, look, we're not cutting anyone else in.

We won't cut him in on the loot. Give him the car lot.

Hopefully I won't need that headache anymore.

- My God, not again. - Get up there, Major.

Cover that up!

It's not the coppers.

- Yes, can I help you? - Delivery for Dave Shilling.

- What is it? - Chicken and chips.

I see.

- Takeaway for Mr. Shilling. - Thanks.

You can't be serious?

I was starving.

Mind the gap.

Radio's in the bag, binocs as well.

There's a bed-sit on the top floor of this building

paid for the week. The ladder will get you to the roof.

You're in from Liverpool looking for work.

I don't have a Liverpool accent.

Then don't talk to anyone, Eddie.

I'm up on the roof and...

I got a good view in all directions, over.

Are you in position, Nightjar?

Command HQ, here. Acknowledge.

Yeah, I'm in position.

I can see the front of the bank... Marylebone Road,

Baker Street. I can see everything really well.

All clear on the western front, Guy. Over.

- No names, Eddie. - Sorry, Dave.

Hey, you delinquents, what have I told you?

No idle chitchat.

Sorry... over.

Fucking hell.

Wakey wakey, gentlemen.

I'll keep an eye on the shop from here on.

You two go around to Glentworth Street,

cover the parking garage exit.

Okay.

Nightjar, here. There's some fella looking through the window.

Oh, hang on.

Wait, hang on, he's going. He's going.

Yeah, he's gone. Over.

Roger, Nightjar. Over and out.

I'm gonna go to the pub, grab some more smokes.

Do you want anything?

Ooh, packet of Seniors.

There you go, sir.

Two packets of Rothmans, two Senior Service

- and eight bags of crisps. - Okay.

Hello, gorgeous. We still on track?

We had a scare last night. The cops came around.

Can't you pull rank and make sure it doesn't happen again?

No. We can't show our hand. We're invisible, remember?

- Wish I was. - What about your friend, Terry?

Where's he planning to carve up the proceeds?

Shit.

- Pint here, chief. - What's wrong?

I had to take a break.

Who's that you was talking to?

I wasn't. He was trying to chat me up.

It does happen you know.

- Right. - There you are, love.

- Cheers. Keep the change. - Thank you.

Anyway, what you doing here? You following me?

No.

Just wanted a pint.

Then enjoy it.

- Hello, Gale. - Where have you been?

You're rather impressed with our friend Hakim, aren't you?

I know. Rule number one...

don't get emotionally involved.

Doesn't mean I can't enjoy my work.

You certainly do.

What's your father think of your consorting with these radicals anyway?

We are not amused.

Of course, if he knew what I was really up to,

- he'd have a heart attack. - Yeah.

Here you are. Credit cards and cash.

If he does have copies of the photos and negatives there, they'll be hidden.

Find them, destroy them and then get out.

Michael X thinks he's safe tucked away in Trinidad.

That'll all change if we're successful here.

Just remember, Gale, he's a nasty piece of work.

He's a crazy, dope-smoking,

lunatic, pimp extortionist is what he is.

Everything okay, Nightjar? Anything I need to know?

Yeah, everything's all right, mate.

Listen, what if I want to go for a pee up here?

I don't know, use your imagination.

Stay off the radio unless you see any Old Bill, all right?

Yeah, all right. If I see the Old Bill, I'll let you know.

I'll speak to you in a bit.

Over.

Hey, Bambas!

What's all this brickwork?

I don't know, it wasn't on the plans.

- Terry! - Fucking hell!

Terry! Bambas!

Terry, talk to me!

Tell!

Fuck.

Terry! Talk to me!

- You all right? - I think so, yeah.

What happened?

The floor just caved in.

Bloody hell, Terry, don't do that to me.

I thought you was a goner.

Give us a light, Dave.

What's down there?

It's a pile of skeletons.

You're joking. Let's hope they're not the last gang

who tried to take this bank.

Latin, roughly translated...

"Lamb of God, forgive us our sins."

How do you know Latin?

Catholic school.

The Bleeding Heart Sisters of Eternal Misery.

Interesting date, 1665.

You know what year that was, don't you?

The last time West Ham won the Cup.

It was the Great Plague of London.

This must be a burial chamber,

the crypt where they dumped the bodies.

What, all these poor bastards had the plague?

It could be infectious.

I don't think so, Dave.

This crypt goes all the way under the bank.

- It could put us in the vault quicker. - Well, how are we gonna do that?

Concrete.

Floor of the vault.

- Time to get paid for all our work. - Right.

If we hit the restaurant by mistake, we'll be knee-deep in fried chicken.

I'll be happy if we don't hit the sewage.

When are you guys gonna hit the vault? I'm freezing my tits off up here.

Over.

In the army, soldiers would pull on their puds

to keep their blood flowing. Over.

What regiment were you in, the Royal Corps of Wankers?

- Over. - Yes. We welcome new members.

Roger. Over and out.

Emergency operator, which service do you require?

The police, please.

Putting you through.

- Police here, can I help you? - Yes.

I'm a ham radio operator

and I think I may be overhearing a robbery in progress.

We're in. Dave, get the ladder.

We'll make the move into the vault after we take a break.

Need to let the fumes clear out.

You're having a laugh, isn't you? Let's go in now.

Dave, nothing's going nowhere.

You can hardly breathe in there.

Nightjar, are you there? Over.

Nightjar here. Over.

We're in. Over.

- What, in the actual vault? - Yes, in the actual vault. Over.

Great. Great. That's great news. Over.

We're taking a break. We're knackered.

We need to get some sleep, get a bit of shuteye

while the fumes clear out. Over.

Oh, lucky you.

My eyes are like organ stops. Over.

We can smell the money though. Over.

Look, money may be your god, but it ain't mine, all right?

I want a warm bath and a cup of tea. Over.

You'll get your cup of tea. Just you hold tight.

Oh, lucky you. My eyes are like organ stops. Over.

We can smell the money though.

I rang four other police stations before you,

but nobody took me seriously.

Said it was probably a hoax.

How strong was the signal, Mr. Addey?

I'd say they were within a 10-mile radius.

There must be a ton of banks in that area.

And when was the last time you picked them up?

They've been quiet for about an hour.

What about releasing the tapes to the radio and TV?

Maybe somebody can recognize the voices.

No no.

They hear themselves, they'll stop transmitting.

No, we should keep listening.

Maybe they'll reveal where they are.

Alfie, you stay here with Mr. Addey. I'm going back to the station.

You call me if you hear anything.

Hey.

You scared the piss out of me.

- What are you doing here? - I couldn't sleep.

Yeah, a bit jangly myself.

I just had to come and have a look.

Our future's in those boxes.

So what you gonna do with your share?

Vanish.

Martine Love will cease to exist.

Why, you think if you vanish you'll become someone else?

At least no one will know who I was.

Why'd you pick Kev and me?

You could've found better thieves.

Old times' sake.

Most of your old times were spent with Kevin, not me.

And Kevin has it in his mind we had this passionate affair.

The truth is, it came down to four Chinese meals

and a roll in the hay.

And that was a long time ago.

All right. Let's make some money.

Pull it out. Pull it out.

Look at this!

Look at all this cash.

- Wads of it. - Fantastic.

Guys, gold bars.

Diamonds. Diamonds!

Guys, what's going on?

How'd your wife fancy a tiara?

Too bloody right.

- Get the cash. The cash! - Look at the quality.

- Emeralds. - This is better than winning the pools.

Dave, give us a hand with this one.

What's so special about this box?

It's my lucky number.

All yours, me lovely.

- Here you are. - Cheers.

Holy shit. You know who that is.

That's Princess Margaret.

Terry, anything for the widows and orphans fund?

Will that do?

God bless you, guv'ner, very generous.

Look, we have to have some sort of system.

You don't know what you're throwing and what you're keeping.

Yeah, well, we know what money looks like

and we're not throwing that away, are we?

How long does it take to rob a bank?

We've just about cleaned this joint out, eh?

More cash.

Look at this.

- No, nothing. - No, still nothing.

Sarge, what we need is something that will motivate the robbers

to go on air, give away their location.

Right. Bait to lure the fish.

No, they're not there.

- Not transmitting. - They're not there, sir.

Move to the next bank, Sierra Lima Two.

No.

We're still getting nothing, Sarge.

Okay, Sierra Lima Two, move to the next location.

My God, the stuff that some people collect.

- What you got there, Terry? - '47.

- '47? - Sounds like a good year to me.

- Three cheers. - Hurray!

Pass 'em around. Come on, Terry, give us some!

Dave!

Here, Major! Get it down ya!

Fellas, they're onto you.

- Listen, they're onto you. - Fuck.

Coppers right on your doorstep.

Speak to me, Nightjar.

Coppers right on your doorstep!

Listen, hang on. Hang on. They're not going in

but they're not going away. Wait, wait.

Sarge, we just heard.

The thieves' lookout says there are police outside the bank right now.

- Which bank? - I haven't got a clue.

We've got patrols outside half the banks in the West End.

Keep listening. We need to pinpoint exactly where they are.

Wait, hang on.

Guys, you got a car just pulled up, some bloke.

He's going up to the front door with the cops.

Guys, he's unlocking the front door.

They're going in. Shit. Over.

- Oh no. - Shit.

- Where's the vault? - Downstairs.

Follow me.

Looks fine.

- I want to look inside. - It's on a time lock.

It can't be opened until tomorrow morning.

Mm-hmm.

Well, it isn't my bank being robbed.

Thank you.

Fellas, I think they're going away.

They're gone.

We should get out of here.

- They could be coming back. - Yeah, all right.

- We need to let Eddie know. - Nightjar.

Nightjar!

No! Fuck.

Shit. Fuck.

Shit. Oh, shit.

Are you there, Nightjar?

The ambulance reports it's outside the Lloyds Bank on Baker Street.

Nightjar, can you hear me?

Have you gone asleep, Nightjar?

Nightjar, are you there?

Look, if he's not picking up, something's wrong.

You're right. Let's grab all the cash and jewels and get the fuck out of here.

What about our gear? We can't leave anything that might incriminate us.

- We'll come back for it if we can. - What about all the other boxes?

Doesn't matter, Dave. Put everything in a bag and let's go.

He's right, let's move. Come on!

- No. - There's nothing there, Sarge.

You sure?

There's no mention of the ambulance.

Nothing, move on, Sierra Lima Two.

- That's them. - Finally.

Come on, let's go.

The van is leaving. We will follow them. Over.

Stop them as soon as possible.

Open the door!

What have I done, guv'ner?

Open the back door. Come on.

Some fella paid me 50 quid to pick up his van

and drop it at Heathrow Airport.

Jesus Christ.

- Where's the van? - Change of plan.

Precautionary measure.

I've organized alternative transport.

- Why? - None of us have met your boyfriend,

the alarm bloke who clued you up about the job.

Could have set us up.

We bloody well pulled it off!

Done with military precision, hey, Major?

Now, that I'm physically secure, I think I'll promote myself to Colonel.

Hey, do you know what I'm gonna do?

Buy me mum a new house, something with a garden.

I thought you'd be off to Copenhagen, Dave.

- Why would I go to Copenhagen? - Have your cock shortened.

Yeah, well, maybe what they chop off of mine,

they can add onto your little pinkie.

How'd you find this place, Terry?

Bloke I know used to run a chop shop here.

He's in the nick now.

How could you lose control of the operation?

I thought you were on top of this thing.

Sir, it worked. They did the job. They robbed the vault.

And we have no idea where the fuck they are.

Do you know, an ugly thought has just occurred.

Lots of money in that vault... jewelry, bonds.

You and your sweetie haven't cooked up something between you, I hope.

- You think I'd betray you? - There are precedents.

Two of our former colleagues now live in bloody Moscow.

Let's hope they don't have another bidder.

She won't cross us. She knows what we're capable of.

How does she even know who the hell we are?

I'm sure she'll contact me when she comes to her senses.

Going anywhere else would be a death sentence.

You'd better hope she does, Everett...

or it may be yours.

Here you go, Bambas. That's your lot.

"Never washed after our magic moment. Snooky."

Hey, Dave. Look at this.

I've seen this bloke on the TV.

The old perv!

I've seen this face before. He's an MP.

Lord what's his name? You know.

Always wears those poncey bowties.

Not in that picture he's not.

Maybe this is one of your old movies, Dave.

Piss off, Kev.

Timely suggestion.

I believe I'll take my share

and be on my way

before the bank opens in the morning and the shit hits the proverbial fan.

I'm with you, Guy.

I don't have to remind you, keep a low profile.

No buying Aston Martins, Bambas.

The only thing I'm buying is a one-way ticket back to Cyprus.

I'm never coming back.

We should have a reunion in 20 years.

The Savoy Grill.

Yeah, right. Maybe for you, Guy.

They still wouldn't let us lot in.

- Bambo. - Goodbye, my friend.

Take care of yourself, mate.

And Major.

Be lucky.

Bambas...

goodbye, old chap.

Okay, what's going on? You two have been staring daggers

at each other since you left the bank.

What is it, lovers' tiff?

I think Martine's got something to tell us.

Hang about, that's Princess Margaret.

Fuck me.

Where'd these come from?

You knew the exact box this stuff was in, Martine.

You better come clean and tell us what this is really about.

About a month ago, I got busted at Heathrow

on a drug charge.

This guy I know said he'd fix it to keep me out of jail

if I do him a favor.

He knew I knew some villains.

He wanted to set up a robbery to get these.

Fucking hell.

That would be the bloke you met in the Player's Club?

Same guy you said was trying to pick you up in the club, right?

- Yeah. - So who is he?

He's a guy I met at the Sombrero Club.

He works for some shady outfit in Whitehall.

Hold on, hold on. What, you mean MI fucking 5?

Or 6?

We could get seriously nicked here, Martine.

No, we couldn't. All Tim wants is the contents of box 118.

The deal with him is we get to keep everything else.

And you believed that?

You put your trust in some prick we've never even met?

You lied to us, Martine.

We were sitting ducks right from the start.

Thank you very much.

You think it's a coincidence that you get busted for drugs

and your Tim just happens to have a plan to rob a bank?

This can work out.

We give them the photos and everything else in that box

and we get to keep the rest and we're free and clear.

These people aren't regular cozzers, Martine.

They're above that. They do things coppers can't.

If they think we've seen these photos, we're as expendable as dogshit.

Do you know what? I've seen those shots.

And I know we're either dogshit

or about to be dogshit. I'm out of here.

I'm not waiting for a load of spooks and coppers

to come cracking my head. I'm splitting like Guy and Bambas.

- Be better if we stuck together, Dave. - Why, Tell?

'Cause we've been so truthful with each other so far? Eh?

- Hey, come on. - No, I'm going home, Kev,

to see me mum. And then I'm going far away,

as far as I can get away from here.

We'd better get out of here too

in case Guy or Bambas get picked up.

Better take the lot of this.

There might be someone else in this shit to cause us some more grief.

One of those, mate.

Here you go, guv'ner.

- Keep the change. - Cor, thanks.

They overheard our radio chat.

Fucking hell.

"Police last night were trying to home in

on a �300,000 bank raid." They still don't know what bank it was.

300 grand?

It was a bit more than that. More like three million.

- Hello? - Martine Love.

Thank God. Put her through, then run a trace.

- It's me. - What happened?

- Where the hell are you? - London.

- I know, of course. I mean where? - I know what you mean.

- Martine, we have to meet. - I agree.

Why don't you come over to my place? I'll make you a cocktail.

We'll have a roll in the hay for old times' sake.

Oh, right. You've already been there, haven't you?

Probably have your men keeping lookout for me now.

You're not in a position to play games, Martine.

No threats, please, Tim.

Why didn't you tell me what it was I was set up to get for you?

For your own good.

I care about your safety, Martine.

Right.

I suppose I give you what you want, we go our separate ways.

- Well, that's what I promised. - Okay.

Today, Tottenham Court Road tube, northern line, northbound platform.

10:30 sharp.

Tottenham Court Road, 10:30.

Good.

"London vaults checked after radio ham

tunes in to a crime."

Christ! What a fiasco!

And now the particular bank has been identified,

the story will be all over the news.

We've heard it already is.

If we don't get onto the case quickly,

the police will have nabbed these robbers

and God knows what will happen to our photographs.

Phillip, get over to the bank.

Take control of the situation.

Gentlemen.

I've just had a conversation with one Martine Love.

- Where is she? - Call was traced to a public phone box

in Earls Court. The good news is, she's arranged to meet.

That is good news.

I'll be better off going alone.

Yeah.

- Tim's agreed to meet. - It's all over the news.

They found the location of the bank.

So what?

Stand back. Please stand back.

Keep the change.

I'm sorry, ma'am. You can't go in. There's been a robbery.

We know there's been a robbery. That's why we're all here.

Everybody that works here... that means everybody...

speak to them.

Gerald!

You work in robbery now, then?

You're a long way off your patch.

Regional Crime Squad now.

Just dropped by to see what all the fuss is about.

Pretty cheeky, that radio bit.

These walkie-talkie robbers certainly caught your lot on the hop.

Makes us all look stupid.

Yeah, well, you're pretty chummy with all the villains around town.

You got any idea who could've done this?

None of my informants.

We have been waiting here quite some time

and so far you people have told us absolutely nothing.

If you would like to give us an itemized list of the contents of your boxes,

we may be able to ascertain what's missing.

Are you mad? The whole point of having a safe deposit box

is so that people like you don't know what's in it.

- I want to speak to a Roy Given. - Yeah, that's me.

This robbery's now a matter of national security. I want everybody out.

This is a police investigation.

Not anymore. Call your superiors.

Who the bloody hell does he think is?

Spooks. 5 or 6,

I can never tell the difference. They all go to the same tailor

and they all went to the same bloody school.

Let's get some copies of the walkie-talkie tapes

out to the news boys.

Maybe the public can help identify the villains.

So tell me...

which of the boxes were ransacked?

The lot: 100s through the 400s.

Well, we're in the crapper, Gerry. Both of us.

Both? Why is it my problem?

Accounts have to be balanced, records kept.

And I wouldn't likely keep the books around here, now would I?

Spell it out, Lew. Be more specific.

I have a ledger...

a record of every payment I've ever made

to you and your colleagues.

It was in my safety deposit box.

And I think we can safely assume it's now in the possession of the robbers.

Jesus wept.

And I think you'll agree, we have to find those villains

before your honest colleagues do.

For fuck's sake.

- Who is this? - Lew Vogel.

Hold on. Get up.

Go on. Wake up.

What you want, Lew?

I'm afraid I've got some potentially bad news for you, Michael.

Your safety deposit box at the Baker Street bank...

- what's its number? - Why do you ask?

Well, over the weekend some thieves broke into the bank vault and robbed it.

So if your box is in the 100 to 400 numbers,

I'm afraid all your stuff will be gone. Mine too, unhappily.

What? How can this happen in London?

Well, I promise you, it has happened.

And I promise you, these thieves will be found and dealt with.

You can rely on it. I'll keep you informed.

Thank you.

Mind the gap, please.

Anyone touches me, follows me,

Martine takes your snaps right to Fleet Street, understood?

You want box 118, Tim.

You have no idea the danger you and your chums are in, do you?

Is that right? And why would that be?

You've opened Pandora's Box, you dumb prick.

- That's why. - I know what's at stake.

And I know how expendable we are.

- So I'm changing the deal. - Is that right?

Yeah. You get all your nasty pictures,

but here's the twist:

We get indemnity... fresh passports,

safe passage out of the country for the whole team,

and an official signed document guaranteeing

we won't be prosecuted and we won't be pursued.

- You can't be serious. - You can bet your bollocks I'm serious.

And we want it signed, sealed and delivered

by a public figure of substantial authority.

- How about the Prime Minister? - Yeah, he'll do.

If you can drag him off his yacht.

You mess with us, Tim...

we can drip-feed pictures like this to the press.

We've got a stack of 'em.

Oh, dear.

You've got until 4:00 p.m. To confirm we have a deal.

We'll be in touch.

- Some photographs. - Well done, Tim.

Do you have any more?

Apparently, there was a whole rogue's gallery

stored in one of the boxes.

If Lord Drysdale is up to his usual hanky-panky,

that's his problem.

This operation is about recovering the photos from Michael X.

Might it not be prudent to get the committee

to consider issuing a D-Notice

to protect everyone potentially embarrassed by this criminal activity?

Which we instigated.

Very nice. Very nice indeed.

When I came out, there were a couple of lads taking some photos.

Photos of him.

Now he was standing right outside the bank

just a few days before it was robbed.

I thought at the time he looked a bit shifty.

Oh my God!

Christ, is that thing real?

I've got it: Dave Shilling.

That's his name.

- Ta-ta, Mum. - Look after yourself, love.

Go and get yourself inside, you'll catch your death.

- Dave Shilling? - Yeah?

I wonder if we could have a word?

- About what? - About a bank.

I want to tell you something, Mr. Shilling, 'cause it'll save time.

You see...

I have a very jaundiced view of life.

From what I see, most of it's corrupt, venal and vile.

And I'm just saying this so that you know that I don't have

a better nature to appeal to or a compassionate streak.

You do understand, don't you?

- I think so, Mr. Vogel. - Good.

I have a kidney stone.

I don't seem to be able to pass it. I'm on painkillers.

I could use a couple of those myself.

You stole from me...

and from friends of mine.

- Where's my stuff? - I don't know.

Look, I don't know anything about any bank robbery. Honest.

Still an unconvincing actor, Mr. Shilling.

I would love to say this is not going to hurt,

but it is.

What are you going to do?

No no!

No! Stop!

Please!

Don't! Please!

- Well, they were here. - Well, they ain't here now.

Why is the door open?

Who are you?

I could ask the same thing.

Better run along, eh?

Get yourselves a cup of tea or something.

We're looking for Terry Leather.

Terry said he won't be coming in this week.

- He's supposed to call in. - Ah.

So you'd be Eddie, right?

- Uh, yeah. - Well, you're coming with me.

Leave him alone. What do you want with my Eddie?

- Shut your noise. - Leave her alone!

We want to talk to him about a bank robbery.

- Don't you touch her! - If you want to see your Eddie

or his mate Dave again, make sure Terry Leather calls that number.

What?

Walkie-Talkie Gang takes it all!

Read all about it!

Walkie-Talkie Gang takes it all!

That's great news. Over.

We're taking a break. We need to get some sleep,

get a bit of shuteye while the fumes clear out.

- Over. - Oh, lucky you.

My eyes are like organ stops...

Mummy, Daddy's on the radio.

- Oh, don't be so silly, darling. - He is!

Is he?

I want a warm bath and a cup of tea. Over.

You'll get your cup of tea. Just you hold tight. Over.

See, it is Daddy.

Authorities have released this recording

of the walkie-talkie communications

between the robbers of Lloyds Bank in Marylebone

in the hopes that their voices may be identified

by members of the public...

- Hello? - Wendy?

We heard you on the radio, Terry. You're famous, you know?

You robbed that bank, didn't you? The one in the news?

Oh God, you could go to jail for years

for something like that, Terry. I couldn't stand it.

No one's going to jail. I've got it all under control.

Just stay put, keep the kids inside.

I love you, Wendy.

I've got to go.

- You be careful, Terry. - What's the matter, Mum?

Nothing, darling.

Terry, they took Eddie.

- Oh God, who? - They weren't thieves or...

I don't know, they could have been cops. They left a phone number for you.

They said if I wanted to see Dave

or Eddie again then you have to call.

Listen to me, Ingrid. I swear to you I'll get him back.

- Don't you worry, darling. - Have you got a pen?

Yeah.

- 0-1-9-4-6... - Hold on, say it again.

- 0-1-9-4-6... - Yeah.

- Michael, it's Lew Vogel. - Yes?

Well, we've identified the villains.

And believe it or not, they're amateurs. Part-timers.

They were put up to the job by a woman named Martine Love.

- Ring a bell? - Never heard of her.

Well, we paid a visit to her flat

and some chaps from Ml5 were already there.

Pulled rank on my tamed copper.

Why do you suppose these people would be interested in the robbery

of a minor neighborhood bank, Michael?

- I don't know. - I think you do.

And I'm guessing that your box is number 118.

I think what these robbers were really after were photographs.

Photographs of a certain Royal Princess.

How you know that?

Because on this point I believe my captive.

No man could withstand the pain we inflicted on him.

So don't take me for a fool, Michael.

You've instigated this calamity

by storing your blackmail materials in this bank.

Which you recommended. I will not be lectured

by the porn king of Soho. Get my pictures back

or you will never see a black man on the streets of London

without wondering if he's been sent to kill you.

- What are you doing? - Oh, hello, Michael.

Hakim was looking for a copy of his book.

I know what you've been looking for, bird, and you won't find it.

What are you talking about?

Hakim, I found your book.

You don't understand.

My box and those of my friends

may have been rifled.

Surely you can pull some strings.

You're a minister in the government, for God's sake.

Sonia, I really don't think I'm able to help here.

Perhaps you don't fully comprehend.

I have photographs,

compromising photographs;

live film of you,

Miles Urquhart, all my regulars,

in this safe deposit box.

You all know each other, if that's any consolation.

You've got photographs of me?

You conniving cunt!

You be a big boy.

Now's the time to talk to your Whitehall chums, don't you think?

That's him. I'm sure that's him.

Guy Arthur Singer.

Con man and petty criminal.

Did a stretch in the Scrubs a few years back.

Thought he was a wanker. Spoke with some poncey accent.

Thank you, sir, very much.

- Hello? - Who am I talking to?

Oh, Terry Leather, Kevin Swain, Martine Love,

Eddie Burton.

Yeah, Mr. Shilling was kind enough to speak with me about this.

You put Dave on the phone, eh?

Well, I would but...

he seems a bit indisposed at the moment.

What do you want?

Just a couple of things from what you stole.

A ledger with a dark red cover.

And some photos that I'm sure Ml5 is interested in.

The Royal Portfolio.

All we got is money and jewels.

Then I suggest you look again.

Speak to your friends.

- Hello. Who's this? - Eddie? It's Terry.

Terry. Terry, fucking hell.

Dave's all messed up and they're going to do the same to me.

- You've got to help. - Listen to me, Eddie.

I don't have what he wants.

What? No!

No you've got to have what they want, you've got to.

You've got to help.

Eddie, what am I supposed to do? You tell him we don't have it.

No, Terry! Terry, you've got to help.

Eddie, you tell him I don't have his fucking ledger!

You tell that cunt now.

He doesn't have it.

Right.

What are you going to do? No, don't!

No! No!

They shot Dave!

- Eddie? - Dave's dead.

- Eddie! Eddie! - They shot Dave.

I'll give you one hour to find what I want

or I'll kill this man too.

Fuck.

This is it.

Lew Vogel.

That's who this bastard is.

Payments made to Soho West End Division Officers.

They're the weekly payouts.

50 quid here, 20 there.

Probably every bent copper in London.

Nothing like this was supposed to happen.

- No one was supposed to get hurt. - It's not your fault.

We've still got our own necks to think about and Eddie.

Look, we give the photos to Vogel, all bets are off with Tim.

We deliver them to Tim, it's Eddie's neck,

Vogel and his lot are after us.

Either way, we are fucked.

Miles, we've got a problem,

a serious problem...

something Sonia Burn kept in the bank

that was robbed over the weekend.

She is concerned that her safe deposit box

may have been plundered.

I'm afraid her fears are well justified.

Oh my God.

I really thought Sonia was a woman of more discreet character.

So...

the genie is out of the bottle then.

For both of us, eh?

Not quite yet. My operatives tell me

that the thieves are using the photographs as a bargaining chip.

- Then give them what they want. - Already in motion.

And the committee have it in the works

to issue a D-Notice on the whole business...

muffle the press,

put a lid on it.

What?

Be a pity, wouldn't it?

I mean, if your mates abandoned you over a few photographs and...

- Hello. - You listen to me, Mr. Vogel,

or whatever your fucking name is. You go ahead and kill him.

See if we give a shit. We got our loot.

Your ledgers and your photos, you can pick them up from Scotland Yard.

- We're sending them over. - Don't do that.

Well, if you want your book of payoffs back,

be at Paddington Station in person tomorrow 11:00 a.m.

Platform one.

There's a newsstand near the statue of the soldier.

Have Eddie with you, hale and hearty.

This is your one and only chance, Vogel.

Don't blow it.

Don't answer it! Catherine!

- Daddy! - Hello, you. Come here.

Here look, I got you a present.

- You been good for Mummy? - Yeah.

I need to talk to Mummy about something, so give us a minute, okay?

- Go on. - Go on.

So do you want to tell me what's been going on?

Some bloke's worked over Dave.

How bad?

He's dead.

Oh my God almighty, Terry!

What have you done to us?

Wendy, I promise,

I'm going to work this out.

And when I do, we're going to leave England

and it is all going to change for us.

If anything goes wrong, use this.

There's plenty of cash...

pounds, francs, dollars.

You can leave the country, start a new life for you and the girls.

You can do this if you have to, Wendy.

- Promise me. - That from the robbery, is it?

My share, yeah.

The papers said that there was a woman in the vault.

Martine was it, was she involved?

Yeah, she brought us the job in the first place.

Oh, and did you sleep with her, Terry?

Do you know what? From day one it was always you.

The first day we met, I said to my friend Audrey,

I said, "I am going to marry him.

And I am going to have his kids."

And I have stuck by you.

I have stuck by you no matter what!

You bastard!

Fuck.

You can throw me over.

I deserve it.

I've brought you more grief than happiness.

But I love you and the kids.

That's the reason I did this, to get us out of this life once and for all.

Mummy, open the door!

- Mummy, Mummy! - We'll work the rest out later.

Go and play in your room!

If you'll still have me.

She takes a good picture, eh, Tim?

Lord Mountbatten has graciously agreed to represent

the interests of the Crown in this matter.

- He high enough up the tree? - Lord Mountbatten?

I've always wanted to meet that bugger.

Yes. Well, I'm sure he'll be very pleased to meet you too.

He has to be under the main clock, Paddington Station,

11:00 a.m. Or no deal.

11:00 a.m. On the knocker with your new passports and documents.

He'll hand them over as soon as he sees the photos.

There's another problem.

This robbery has pissed off some local villains.

The guts come with the glory, eh?

One of our mates has been killed.

It's hardly surprising considering the roster of reprobates

who are the bank's deposit box customers.

Listen, Terry, our commitment is for the recovery

of the royal portraits only.

The proceeds and the piss-offs are both yours to deal with.

11:00 a.m., Paddington Station.

Gale,

Michael wants to see you in the garden.

- What for? - I don't know.

Gale, come. Come and look at this.

Come.

- I want to show you something. - What's this for?

It's for you.

What have I done to deserve this? What have I done?

You're a spy sent to steal from me.

And nobody steals from Michael X! No one!

See if it mentions the copper in charge.

Here it is. "Heading the case

is Detective Sergeant Roy Given of Marylebone Lane Police Station."

Roy Given.

No Roy Given mentioned.

Let's hope that means he's straight.

And that he'd be interested in the names of some bent coppers.

Yeah, bit of a long shot.

- Fuck it. - Nothing in that one?

No.

What, we don't rate a mention?

Strike you as strange?

It's kind of scary actually.

If that news could disappear, so could we.

Next stop, Edgeware Road.

Well, here's to us.

See you, mate.

Look after yourself. Take care.

Good luck, Kev.

So where are you headed if everything goes to plan?

I'll tell you if you're coming with me.

Morning. I'm looking for a Mr. Roy Given.

- It's very important. - Roy Given?

Yeah.

Yeah, well, can I ask what it's concerning?

No, I prefer to tell him myself.

Look, all I'm saying is if you're interested

in the rest of this book of payoffs, the author's going to be

at Paddington Station, 11:00 a.m., platform one.

And how exactly did this come into your possession?

Next stop, Paddington Station.

Change here for the Bakerloo Line.

Let's hope no one turns up fashionably late.

- There's your friend Tim. - Good luck.

It's good to see you in one piece.

You were worried for your own ass, Tim,

not for mine.

You're a prick, Tim.

You set this whole thing up from the start, didn't you?

Come on, you get to be rich, free and clear.

Isn't that what you wanted?

- You stay here with the car. - Right.

Oh, bloody kidney stone.

It's got to pass soon.

Haven't had this much excitement since the war.

We're a little late, milord.

So where's your mate?

That's Terry there by the newsstand.

Wait. I've seen those two cowboys before at the girl's flat.

- It's a trap. They're Ml5. - Terry!

Terry!

- Lord Mountbatten? - Yes.

You know the arrangement? And you agreed

to our new identities and immunity from prosecution?

You have my word that the Crown will honor this commitment.

Your documentation and guarantees.

If I were you I'd keep them in a very safe place.

Yeah, well you can bet it won't be a safe deposit box.

She is a scallywag. Thank you.

Martine...

it wasn't all business for me.

- What's happening? Where's the book? - Just open the door.

- No! - Get in there.

Stay there or you're dead meat.

Where you going, old man, eh?

- This one's for Dave. - No.

Here, you fucker!

Not so fucking smug now are you?

Oi, you sod...

- Eddie, get out. - That's the bloke that killed Dave.

Get your hands off me!

Arrest them. They're the bank robbers.

- Fuck! - This bloke killed our friend.

- Shit. - We're innocent.

So are we seriously assholed now, Terry?

Well, at least we're not dead like poor old Dave.

- Get up, you filthy bastard. - I want...

You're under arrest.

- Take him away. - Right. Come on you.

Get in the car.

I tried, mate.

I wonder if that's Roy Given.

Who's he?

We was hoping he was a straight copper.

We've got a nice collar here, Roy.

You know these two are part of the Baker Street bank robbery gang?

- Place this man under arrest. - Yes, sir.

What are you talking about? They're part of the Baker Street firm.

I don't know about them, but I know about you,

you corrupt bastard. Cuff him...

and the one over by the wall as well.

But they're the robbers.

No robbers in here.

Watch your head.

Now...

I believe you have a certain Mr. Vogel's book of shame.

Well, if you'll let me out, I'll go get it for you.

That belongs to me.

There's your book.

Terry, we were thinking, a smart fellow like you

might have kept mementos of the event just in case.

In case what? Things didn't turn out so nicely?

If they should ever see the light of day,

don't think we can't find you.

Out! Go on, piss off!

And you, go on.

- How did that happen? - Fucked if I know.

Just keep walking.

Michael! Michael!

What's going on?

What do you want in my place?

- What do you want? - We are placing you under arrest.

What am I charged with?

Conspiracy to import drugs into the United Kingdom.

Will that do? But you could still help yourself.

There's a British national staying with you,

- a certain Gale Benson. - She was here but she's gone on.

All right.

Over here, sir.

Burn the house down. I want nothing of this place left standing.

Those were the days, my friend

We thought they'd never end...

- Were you friends of Dave? - Oh, yeah.

We knew him in a professional capacity.

He was one of our favorites.

See you later.

- You all right? - Yeah.

So where are you off to, Kev?

Anywhere you want to go.

Sorry, I'm doing a solo from now on.

Yeah, well it was worth a try.

Do you want another one?

Yeah, go on. One for the road.

Ta, mate.

I just wish Dave could have seen all this.

Yeah, here's to Dave.

To Dave.

What do you want, Martine?

I'm sorry I've caused you this upset, Wendy.

Well, apparently we're rich.

I know the business is finished, but are the cars really ours?

Yeah.

They're all yours.

Jessell's been paid off.

I won't lie to you. I'd have gone with him.

And I'd have shut you out of my mind.

But he didn't want to know.

I'm sorry.

Your wife's talking to Martine.

I know, Kev.

I know.

Good luck.

It was always you, Terry.

Go, Daddy!

Oh my God, Terry, it's a big one.

Last us a few chips, that one.

Don't, Mom.

Fish fingers tonight, eh?

I want money

That's what I want

Yeah

The best things in life are free

But you can keep them for the birds and bees

- Give me money - That's what I want

- That's what I want - That's what I want

That's what I want, yeah

Well, that's what I want

Your loving gives me such a thrill

But your loving don't pay my bills

- Give me money - That's what I want

- That's what I want - That's what I want

That's what I want

Well, that's what I want

Money don't get everything, it's true

But what it don't get I can't use

- Give me money - That's what I want

- That's what I want - That's what I want

That's what I want

Yeah, that's what I want

- Well, give me money - That's what I want

- Lots of money - That's what I want

- A whole lot of money - That's what I want

Give me money money money money money

Whoa yeah

Well, that's what I want

Yeah yeah yeah.

Best watched using Open Subtitles MKV Player