All language subtitles for The.F_1

Who doesn't like a new pair of sexy shoes?

You should try a real whiskey.
Two Jamesons, single malt.

"Wife Attacks
Husband's Transgender Lover."

Some serious news you're writing there.

Well, if it pays, I'll write it.

Beats being knee-deep
in a bloody bomb site.

-So, what do you do?
-Wealth management.

I'm Maggie.

Ian.

All right.
I'll call if we need more.

- Thanks, Mary.
- All right, thanks. Bye.

Six more men
are on their way from Belfast.

When they get here, they'll relieve
the fellas who've been up all night.

Is it enough to secure the farm?

Secure as it can be.
It's 20 total working two shifts.

All right. You're flying
to London today with Mary.

-Right, yeah.
-That's completely unnecessary.

Get her into Keri's flat,
then move them into a hotel.

I can manage this, all right?

I'll not be debating this!

Nick's gonna fill up the Jag.

You're leaving--

Take him to the hospital.

-Get Mary to the airport. Go.
-Right.

Buried nitro bomb, detonated by remote.

He needed a line of sight.

Those woods, that's where I'd be.

-Go.
-Sean! Mick! Get in the car.

Go, go, go!

Come on. Go, go, go!

You guys spread out.
I'll take the high ground.

Names!

Jesus Christ!

One ol' man running circles
around the lot of us.

Why is it so hard?

He's ahead of us every step of the way.

We need more men.

We need 100 more men, at least.

And if we did that,
we'd have the whole of Belfast against us.

Bring in a tracker,
someone who knows the woods,

and beat him at his own game.

My nephew?

Aye. If you can spare him.

Come on.

How's Keri? Where is she?

Out.

You're a wee bit early,
but I'm nearly ready.

Have you a restaurant in mind?

Haven't given it much thought.

So, what urgencies
bring my nephew all the way to London?

A few personal matters.

I'm glad I made the list.

Mm. I think that works.

What do you think?

You've gotta be kiddin'.

-Liam?
-Tell Bromley I'll accept his terms.

I'll pass it on.

I've given out the code words.
Now we wait.

Quan hit us again.

Blew up the Jag,
put Billy in the hospital.

Kavanagh and the boys went after him.

The wee shitey injured three more men.
Punji sticks, if you can believe that.

Liam, it sounds like he's trained.
Maybe Special Forces.

Which brings me to the point.

I need a tracker, Sean.
Can you give us a hand?

- I'll take a morning flight.
- Good man.

Hey. How'd he sound?

Worried.

He's got a lot going on.

Well, if he doesn't
find the bombers, the Accord's dead.

And politically, so's he.

Do you think he'll find them?

Yeah, if there's another blast.

The code word will lead us to
who's running them.

He's finished.
The code word won't save him.

What the Council needs is new blood...

someone stronger, like you.

He's afraid to use his power.

He's just a washed-up old man
trying to hold onto whatever he can.

I've never forgiven him
for my brother Patrick.

Liam found out who killed him.

A UVF death squad. Four men.

I told Liam to kill them
before they got to court.

But he said no.

That the time for revenge is past.

So, my Patrick is dead and buried,

and they're sitting in jail now,
all four of them,

taking classes at the open university.

It's not right. It's not.

Hugh McGrath's here.

I heard you're checking my dumps.

We're checking everyone's. No exceptions.

Four came up short. Two were yours.

Ten kilos of Semtex missing.

What in God's name are you doing?
My dumps were off-limits.

We were clear in that. Remember?

You were at the meeting.

If you knew they were short,
you should've handled it.

They were in perfect order.
I checked 'em myself, and that's a fact.

Christ, Liam, so the committee
knows it's my Semtex?

Don't know who we can
trust anymore. Do we?

Trust, or fear?

In your case, mostly fear.

Simple and brutal, like my da taught me.

Look, we have an opportunity here, Liam,
if you take the lead.

This Chinaman isn't helping matters,

but let me get some locals
to hunt him down.

-How much do you know?
-Plenty.

Bomb in your office. Your farm. Your car.

Mary and your daughter hiding out
in a London hotel, a bloody mess, it is.

And the men sense weakness, as do the UVF.

You should be back in Belfast,
out in front, taking charge.

-Look, I'm no politician...
-What're you trying to say?

The bombing.

A few quiet words of encouragement
would soothe the ranks.

"Encouragement"?

They kill civilians by the buckets.

They went a bit far, I know,
but they have given us real momentum.

The Brits are on the ropes.

Jesus Christ, I said hit a few
financial targets. That's it.

No one gets hurt.
That's what we agreed to.

-You gave me your word.
-And by God, I kept it.

I don't know who they are,
don't even know who's controlling 'em.

And that's the way it has to be.

Because, if something goes wrong,
they could trace 'em straight back to us.

Go wrong? This wasn't the fuckin' plan.
I needed this to get our people back.

-You and I have spent our whole lifetime--
-You don't give a shit about those men.

You needed the bombing
to shore up the election,

to prop up your weakness in the ranks.

Well, guess what?
In the fog o' war, plans fuckin' change.

Now, I stood by you
when you put fire into the lads.

M62, Aldershot, Mountbatten.

You were calling for an escalation then,
right enough.

Those days are long gone!

That's not what I heard a few months ago.

I heard the old Liam,
a man back on track with a plan.

You haven't forgotten
what we're fighting for, have ya?

You question my loyalty?

I buried my brother-in-law,
before that my da and my two cousins.

We spilt our fair share of blood
struggling for united Ireland,

not profiting off a divided one.

So, don't fucking go asking me again
if I've forgotten what we're fighting for.

If there's anyone profiteering
around here, it's you,

sitting in your fancy houses,
cozying up to the Brits.

You're not the Liam I once knew.

You want the old me, huh?

The Butcher of the Bogside,
is that what you want?

Well then, hear this.

You reel in those fuckin' cunts
and end it,

or by God, I'll bury the lot of yas.

Right. I'm going now.

I'll be at my farm if you need me.

And take care of that Committee issue.

We don't want them jumping to the wrong
conclusion about that Semtex. Do we?

Yeah.

Do you or any of the men know
where Mary's staying in London?

No. No one, but Murphy.

Hmm. McGrath knows where she's hiding.

I wanna know how.

What a day, Charlie.

What a day. Come on now, let's go.

Come on, Charlie, up you get.

Charlie.

You killed my dog?

Dog's fine. Just sleeping.

Sit.

I'm wearing a bomb.

Anyone comes in,
I touch it one, then we die.

Now, give me the names.

They claim they're the IRA,
but I don't know who they really are.

I'm doing everything I can
to find out who's responsible.

You're lying! Who killed my daughter?

I'm sorry. I truly don't know yet.

The explosives the bombers use,
it's Semtex-H?

Yes. Yes. You know about Semtex?

I know Semtex-H.

During the war,
Czechs make for the Viet Cong.

Good for bombs and traps.

-In Vietnam?
-Yes.

Many American people died by Semtex-H.

Now, IRA use to kill my daughter.

That's ironic.

I've read your history.
We both know about war.

We've both tried to put it behind us.
You and me, we're alike.

We are nothing alike. You're nothing!
You kill women and children! Names!

To Almighty God, I don't know!

Wait! Wait. I've set a trap for them
when they use the next bomb.

When they claim responsibility
for the next bombing,

they'll use a code word,
telling the police they're IRA.

I've changed that code word.

So, when they use it, I'll know.

You have one day.

What if they don't set off a bomb by then?

Twenty-four hours.

Oh, Jesus. Oh, Jesus. Sweet Jesus.

We missed it the first time...

But ran a reconfiguration through RAPTOR,

and the image's anomalies
and architecture became more apparent.

Now there, look, the back of his hand.

- Hmm.
- Looks like a burn or a birthmark.

We're running comparatives now.

So, it's a bit more time,
but we'll get it.

Come on. Come on.

OK.

There you go.

- Good morning, Sean. Thanks for coming.
- Are you all right?

Well, I've been better.
There's been another bombing.

- Yeah, I just heard.
- Aye, a London bus.

-Has Bromley phoned?
-No. Not yet.

McGrath's on his way with some locals.
They'll give ya a hand.

No, I don't need them. I'll handle it.

Good man.

Hennessy.

They called, but didn't give a code word.
What the hell's going on?

Maybe it wasn't them.

Press Association took the call.

A man with an Irish accent said
there'd be no more fuckin' cooperation

with the Brits and no more code words.

He knew exactly which bus
and how much explosive was used.

And it's been ID'd as your Semtex again.

Either someone talked,
warned them off, or you're playing me.

Only two people knew what was happening...
Myself and Morrison.

Like I said, one of you can't be trusted.

Send me a number where
I can reach you day or night.

I'll call the moment I have something.

It better be soon,

or you'll feel a backlash the likes
of which you've never felt before.

A bus now.

For God's sake,
16 dead, twice that injured.

I'm sorry.

I had a plan to nail the bastards.
Didn't work.

I've just come
from Downing Street.

The PM will consider the pardons,

but only if you give up
the bombers immediately.

And how in God's name do I do that?

Find a way.

Plans are afoot to put the paratroops
back on your streets in 48 hours.

Belfast will erupt.

You'll give the bombers
exactly what they want.

Well, it's out of my hands now.
Call when you have something.

I'm heading for a conference
in Rome tomorrow.

I'll have my cell at all times.

How was London? Is Mary OK?

You said to keep an eye on her,

and make sure she and Keri were kept safe.

I spent some time in her hotel lobby
watching the comings and goings, you know?

She had no idea I was there.

And your nephew turns up.

He spent two hours in her room.

- He spent two hours in Mary's room?
- Aye.

And after he goes,

Mary comes down,

and calls Hugh McGrath on the lobby phone.

It's done.

Unless they take it apart,
there's no way to know it's been modified.

Fuckin' brilliant. What'll set it off?

The internal clock.

I'll input the time
once we know the flight.

There's a security conference
in Rome tomorrow.

All the top MPs and security people are
flying there on three lunchtime flights.

Perfect. What about our mule?

Sara just confirmed he's going.

We then ran the burn-mark
through the database.

We got a positive hit
on a Patrick O'Reilly,

age 29, from Belfast.

O'Reilly had one prior for a domestic
abuse incident three years back.

Did two months in Hydebank.

We entered O'Reilly
into the facial rec bank for matches.

We got a hit.

That's him in a Dublin pub
with an IRA member four weeks ago.

It's a known IRA meeting place
we've had under surveillance for years.

And the other two with him?

I was about to get to them,
Minister.

That and a woman we've just ID'd
at the bus explosion.

Yes.

Your mole's Hugh McGrath.

Did you hear me, Hennessy?

Are you sure now?

Quite.

We've ID'd the Knightsbridge bomber
as Patrick O'Reilly of Belfast.

Three weeks ago, Mr. O'Reilly was observed
meeting Hugh McGrath in a Dublin pub.

Where's McGrath and O'Reilly now?

I don't know O'Reilly.

I haven't seen McGrath.

Let me help you with McGrath.

His phone's GPS puts him
52 meters south of you.

I'm watching him coming up your drive.

So, let's cut the shit.

There's a Chinook airborne
right now with a 12-man team.

They'll land on your farm in 30 minutes
to take McGrath into custody.

I needn't tell you how that'll go,
nor how your cozy relationship with him

will sink your career...

This time for good.

Or?

Question McGrath your way
and get what I need.

Names and locations of everyone.

You can't save him,
but maybe you can save yourself.

Thirty minutes, get what I need,
I'll turn them around.

Jim.

Send McGrath's men to the trailhead,
see if Sean needs any help.

Give me your phone.

- What the hell?
- Give me your phone.

Get your ass in that chair there,
you motherfucker.

-A London bus, for Christ sake!
-Now hold on.

Not even fuckin' warnings!

Sixteen dead.

You stabbed me in the back
and sanctioned this bloodbath

to get your war back on.

The plan had no balls.

This wasn't a Bombing Light campaign.

You said hurt 'em, and hurt 'em we did.

By killing women and children?

You can't restrain yourself.

You never could. Well, it's over.

Their names, aliases, and location.

You know I can't do that.

That's me being nice.

Now write. And it better match
what I already know.

By God, I'll take you apart
joint by joint!

You used me.

You wanted the pardons
for your own political gain.

You're a disgrace to the cause.

Four men and a woman.

Maggie Dunn?

Aye. You call her that.

Sara Mackay's her real name.

She works for you?

Bloody right.

Checks and balances.

An insurance policy,
in case you lose your nerve,

which you have.
So now, if they take the lads,

she will lead them straight back to you.

Not so easy anymore now, is it?

SO15 will be here
in 20 minutes to take you in.

We both know that can't happen.

You gave me up to the Brits?

You tout bastard!

You gave yourself up.

They've got surveillance of you
in an IRA pub with a Pat O'Reilly,

who they ID'd as the Knightsbridge bomber.

And thanks to your GPS phone,
they tracked you here.

You broke every rule, Hughie.

And now I'm left to clean up your mess
as I have for the past 30 years.

A final thing.

My wife?

What about her?

She hates you because of her brother.

And so she reached out to me.

So, yes, I helped her...

And she helped me.

- Yes.
- Bromley.

I got your names.

Oh, shit, I'm late. I've got to go.

Did you cum?

No.
I'm not a three-second wonder like you.

Well, keep wearing that shirt,
I'll be a two-second wonder.

You're gonna have to get used to it.

Practice, practice, practice.

I'm close.

McGrath confessed.
It was his op all along.

I've got the bombers' names and location.
I'll text you the info. You may need it.

The one that killed Quan's daughter
is Pat O'Reilly.

He's got a burn-mark on his right hand.

Either way, Sean, you end this, now.

-You hear me?
-Understood.

You know why you're still alive?

You want the names?

They're in the phone.
The last text, code 7741.

Five names and their location in London.

O'Reilly set the bomb
that killed your daughter.

He's got a burn-mark on his right hand.

You fought in the army.

Iraq. Royal Irish Regiment.

Two tours, Special Forces.

You're Catholic,
but you fought for British. Why?

I fought for the regiment.

Out there, religion didn't matter.
We were all the same. That's it.

Family?

A brother.

The rest have passed away.

Come in.

Take a seat, Sean.

Aye. You look like
you've been through the wars.

Aye. Quan got the drop on me.

I gave him the names,
he took my things and let me go.

When the bombers called in about the bus,

they didn't use a code word,

because someone tipped them off.

Only two people knew
the reason for the code change.

You and me.

Liam, I didn't tell anyone. I swear.
I spoke to Bromley, and that was it.

What if I told you I had Murphy stay

and watch Mary in London?

My own flesh and blood.

Liam, I'm so sorry.

I don't wanna know
what happened in that room.

All I wanna know is, what was discussed

when your sweet Aunt Mary was with you?

Did she say she was involved
with McGrath and the bombers?

No. Never.

She was upset about her brother
and kept on about that.

When you and I were talking
about the code word, she asked about 'em,

but she never let on about McGrath.

Oh, so, she could hear us on the phone?

No, it was only after our call
she mentioned the code word.

-She thought they wouldn't be of use.
-So, she steered the conversation?

Well, yes, I guess she did.

Ah. A good manipulator, she is.

So, she told the bombers?

She told McGrath, McGrath told them.

Thick as thieves, they were.

She tricked the information
out of ya, Sean.

She used you.

-Liam, I--
-Shut up!

Bury that pig in the sow-pen.

And after that,
I have one final task for you.

And when that's done...

go back to New York, son.

Thank you.

Zero, this is Alpha Two.
Echo One toward target house.

Zero. Echo One's
toward the target house. Copy.

Echo One has entered
the target house and unsighted to me.

Zero. Echo One is in target house
and unsighted to you. Copy.

Thank Christ for that.

Sierra call signs. Confirm when Echo One
is complete in target house.

Sierra Two, roger that.

Sierra Three, roger that.

X-Ray One on balcony.

Echo One approaching front door.

How'd it go?

It's done.

I have visual. X-Ray One
and Echo One have left the room.

All other X-Rays remain.

Zero, this is Alpha Two.

One unknown Echo and two children
entering the target house.

Roger that.

He's a slobbering oaf.

It had to be done.

I had to shag him.
It was fuckin' disgusting.

Look, I know what you
went through. All right?

Do ya, Denis? Do ya really?

Well, maybe for the next bomb,
you can set up a gay Magistrate.

How would that be?

Taking a shower.

Next.

X-Ray One entering living room.

All X-Rays now complete in living room.

All call signs
move to your final rendezvous.

X-Rays and Echo complete in living room.

We've lost visual.
Echo One has closed the blinds.

Fox One, you have control.

Roger that. I have control.

Standby. Standby.

Stop, stop, stop!

Wait!

Sierra call signs, report what's going on.

I've two unknowns
at the front door. Wait.

Sorry for the bother,
but there's a gas leak in the building,

and the gas man
needs entry for an inspection.

Our gas works fine. There's no problem.

He needs to inspect
all the flats, regardless.

He won't take a moment,
and it is an emergency.

It's quite important, Mr. Upton.

By law, I'm allowed to use my own key.

All right. Just a second.

Come down when you're done,
and I'll take you to the next flat.

Thank you. I will be very fast.

This way.

Can I see the boiler, please?

Would you mind
putting your bag on the table?

Open it up.

All right.

All call signs, standby, standby.

All call signs, go!

Get down! Get down!

Get down! Get down! Get down!

Room clear!

X-Rays down.

What about Echo?

She's alive, under control.

Who planned this?

Go fuck yourself.

What's this, eh? Your next bomb?

Go fuck yourself.

Talk, you rotten slag!

It's too late.

Nine minutes it blows. No time to land.

What's that? A plane? Which plane?

Which plane?

Open her shirt.

This is how it works.

I ask questions. You answer.

That's right. Flight 136 to Rome.
Passenger name Ian Wood.

Bomb's in his laptop.

Set to go off at 3:00 p.m. exactly.

Ladies and gentlemen,
please be advised.

Flight 136 to Rome
has been further delayed.

We apologize for the inconvenience.

Again, Flight 136 to Rome...

Ian Wood!
Is there an Ian Wood here?

Ian Wood! Ian Wood?

Is there an Ian Wood here? Ian Wood?

Ian Wood? Ian Wood? Ian Wood?

What's going on? What's going on?

They're looking for someone
named Ian Wood.

That's me. I'm Ian Wood.

Ian Wood!

I'm Ian Wood.

- Is that your laptop?
- Yeah.

Move! Move! Move!

Get down! Get down! Get down! Get down!

Get down! Get down!

Get down! Get down!

Move! Move!

Get down! Get down! Move!

Get outta the way! Get out!
Move here! Get out!

Move!

She said a gas man turned up
with an assault gun, a Chinaman.

Started shooting, killed everyone but her,
and then walked out the door.

She said he was a Chinaman?

Affirmative. About 60 years old.

Just got word
the device is neutralized.

Good work. Fox Hunt is now terminated.

No loose ends.

Understood.

It's Bromley. I need an AP
out to all city-district units

from Wapping High Street to the A1203.

Suspect's an Asian male, 61 years of age,
five feet, eight inches, 11 stone.

His name's Ngoc Minh Quan.

He's armed
and has U.S. Special Forces training.

Use extreme caution.

Yes.

I was on the flight
they targeted to blow up.

Because of your timely information,
we stopped it.

I wanted to thank you personally.

Thank God you're OK.

The bombers were neutralized,
even Sara McKay,

whom you called "Maggie."

She gave a reporter the bomb
that was to have been put on my flight.

She also carried out the bus carnage,

and is directly connected to you,
and McGrath.

We have call-pens going
to and from her off the cell tower

by your farm and town homes.

That's 250 precision locations
and activations

-consistent with your mutual activities.
-Katherine...

I've spoken to the PM.
He's agreed to keep you in office for now.

I'm issuing pardons
for five On-the-Runs, one is your cousin.

But, make no mistake,
Deputy First Minister, you are ours now.

I say jump, you say where.

You're on the next flight back to London.

Tomorrow you'll brief
SO15 and myself on everything you know.

All of it.

Good evening, sir.

How did you find me?

I gave you the names, like I said.

This woman, she's a bomber.
You lie. You plan everything.

For whatever it's worth...

I never intended to hurt your daughter

or any of those people.

Send.

Do it!

It's now on the Internet,
you and your mistress.

The whole world will know
you are a terrorist.

Good-bye, Mr. Hennessy.

Yes?

It's Landesman, sir, in S-11.
I've got him.

Where?

The Happy Peacock Takeaway.
He's returned.

Do I send in a team?

No.

I believe we owe this chap something.

Keep back for now.
Observe and report only.

Yes, sir.