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- No carte. Monsieur Gruber? - No carte.

No carte.

Nine.

Looks like the house is going to be

6,000,000 Reichsmarks lighter in bullion this weekend.

Fu Manchu!

You can't just keep yelling out the name of the game, Pierre,

that's not how it works.

Fu Manchu.

- Stop being a child! - This game sucks. I win.

It doesn't suck. It's made by a very reputable plastics company.

There isn't a bank.

- I brought that. - Why?

I thought we were playing Money. It's the only reason I agreed to this board-game bullshit.

I thought you would.

Mission o'clock, boys and girls.

The Nazis have occupied a coastal Moroccan city called Waheed al Quarn...

What do the Nazis want with a Maghreb state in North Africa?

What's that on your shoulder, Claire?

- Nothing. - Spot on. Nothing. Just that.

- Now what's on mine? - Three stars.

Yes, three st...

Yes. Two stars.

And those stars mean I talk, you shut your damn mouth.

One month ago my Allied Command sent one of their top agents

code-named Gruber to Waheed Al Quarn.

He collected information that indicates

Hitler has taken up residence there in the casino.

However, Gruber himself has completely disappeared.

Your mission is to get into that casino and find Gruber,

but above all, kill Hitler.

Well, there's the casino.

And there's an Italian submarine in the bay,

probably a Gino Terrini Class.

That thing would do a good job of keeping any unwanted visitors out.

All looks like a bit of a Chinese dinner to me.

I say we call in an aerial strike,

dig out Hitler's corpse by sun-up and have a light supper.

- I'll get on the radio to base. - Hold on.

First of all we should take out the submarine.

We should walk in, find Hitler, and blow his face off his head bone.

- That's a perfectly elegant solution. - It's called getting shit done, lady.

No it's called getting people killed, you louse.

- You wanna throw down? - Shut up, you two.

We take a vote, then.

There are two choices - Jackson's plan with the casino,

and Claire's with the submarine.

- What about my plan? - Who votes for Jackson?

Okay, now Claire's plan.

Fine, we split up and do both.

As for me...

- It's the casino. - All right!

Any sign of Hitler?

No, but there is an unusual degree of security for your average casino.

llsa?

It's Rommel, the Desert Fox!

You look...

The submarine is awfully close to shore.

Surely we could swim out to it quite easily.

Hello, I am Gina, but they call me Gypsy.

- What are you drinking tonight? - Oh, juice for me.

I'll have a gin, with a pinch of Tony Manero.

- What's your accent, Italian? - Romanian.

You don't have any Jenson and Jenson menthol coupes, do you?

Of course we do. Who doesn't stock menthol coupes?

A packet of those, then.

I'll return with your drinks.

You don't smoke menthol coupes, you're a Montalbano Classics man.

And Gypsy isn't Romanian. I needed to get her to say "coupe".

It's the only way to tell the difference between an Italian and a Romanian.

Never mind that. The submarine just docked.

Oh great, Italians.

What are all these Italians doing here?

Once a month, all the submarine boys come here

and drink themselves senseless.

Plus they can't seem to get enough of Rosetta Marconi.

Rosetta!

Rosetta!

- We need to take the sub now. - Are you mad?

We haven't got a crispy wonton chance on our own.

- We should call in a strike. - You heard her.

We won't have a chance as good as this for another month.

- All the sailors are in here. - I don't know about this.

- What's the matter, Tucker, scared? - No, it's just I think...

Fine, then let's move.

You've had amnesia for two years?

All this time... l thought you were dead.

But I have kept you close to my heart.

Don't you recognise her?

It's you.

My love, my wife, we are together again at last.

My God, llsa was married to Rommel!

I've been married to things a lot scarier than Nazis, my friend.

I'm the general manager, you know.

No one above me other than you-know-who.

Well, we had a bit of trouble recently with a man up in room 219,

but we took care of that.

I must go, my sweet.

We'll see.

Don't run away now, my love.

That's it!

Hey!

So...

I'll put him out for an hour.

All right, I'll deploy the smoke grenades, and you're going to have to fight.

Oh great, Italians.

Jump, damn it!

I can't swim.

What?

Room service.

- I'm sorry, I didn't order any... - But I insist. I insist.

- Really, now is not the best time. - Please, you will enjoy.

Red wine?

With chicken?

Burn in hell, you dog!

Your brother died like a dog, Jinko.

But you at least have the strength to die with honour.

And it is an honour to die by your hand, Sharif.

Ughh...

One part gin, one part pomegranate syrup,

fill with pineapple juice, serve over crushed ice.

The perfect Fruit'n'Khamun.

No, thanks. I brought my own.

Where is your friend? Ran off, did he?

- How about a drink? - Gin.

- With what? - Just gin.

Okay...

Ah...

Gypsy, you whore!

What? That was quick, she's over there.

Tell me, Gypsy, do you call these drugs you sell "pure"?

I get it from my man Colonel Chang and his stuff is always pure.

And do you sell me a great big bullshit horse with this story?

- Tough luck. Non-refundable. - Non-refundable?

Good thing for you I don't want no refund.

I'm gonna get my money's worth and I'm going to get it right now.

Can I have my gin now, please?

Pair of ladies.

Zat was very amusing, but I hope these vimsical tricks

play no part in your impressive vinnings, Mr...

Baccarat, John Baccarat.

I save the tricks for the ladies, Mr...

Rommel, Erwin Rommel.

Mr Rimmel. Yeah, right.

No, it's...

Sveetness, come and have a game.

Ah, Mr Baccarat.

May I introduce you to my wife, llsa?

I'm sure you von't mind if she joins.

- I vager a banco of 3000. - 3000 for banco.

Banco.

- No carte. - No carte.

- Carte. - Carte.

Eight.

Nine, bad luck.

You seem to have quite ze touch, Mr Baccarat.

Vould you be interested in a private game... at ze owner's table?

- You gonna bring the legs? - Well... of course.

Then that sounds just dandy. Thanks, Ed.

Schplendid.

I shall send somevone for you in an hour.

As for now, I have business to attend to.

Keep having fun, my love.

Your friend, he's in the submarine, I know.

- It's my fault. - Not entirely.

I want to help you get him back.

Thanks, but I don't think you can.

Hey, what are they delivering, ammunition?

Coffee beans.

They drink so much of the stuff they need a new crate every hour.

My brother Gino, he flies the plane.

Caffè, caffè, caffè!

For the love of God, don't give me any more coffee!

Crotch.

Crotch.

Crotch. Well done, my Fuehrer.

In theory, my Fuehrer, yes, they are ready to go.

However there is a small issue with the auto-fire mode.

The guns tend to heat up when fired at full automatic.

Three of my men have been badly burnt.

I propose we trial some different kinds of ammunition, and perhaps...

My Fuehrer, his name is John Baccarat.

He's been having a tremendous amount of luck on ze gaming floor.

I think it's time we gave him a private game.

My Fuehrer, since we have such a large quantity of gold,

I was thinking maybe we could...

Maybe I thought you were so wound up playing lover girl

that you'd forget we're trying to kill Hitler.

Thanks for filling us in on the whole "married to a Nazi" thing by the way.

Why not screw him and get it over with?

Greetings.

Can I have some of that Chocolate Monday, Jackson?

- Knock yourself out. - Much obliged.

What is the commotion about?

You're John Baccarat? Oh my.

- You are aware Hitler plans to kill you in a private card game, yes? - Not if I kill him first.

Friends, please. Look at this on the sunny side.

Both of you will be in the same room as Hitler in less than an hour.

This is our chance. I'm going to call Claire.

- Yes? - Claire, how's things, my friend?

- Capital. - Superb.

It seems Hitler is using the bullion winnings from his casino

to rearm the entire German army

with superior golden super weapons made of gold.

- All right. - Hitler also seems to be killing off any successful gamblers

with some sort of private death game.

Oh yes, and Jackson seems to have been invited to one of these...

private games.

You got the submarine under control?

Can you stop the shipment? Can I speak to Tucker?

Ah... he's in the gents.

The submarine should be neutralised any minute now.

Excellent. We are going to try and turn Hitler's game around on him.

The game starts in half an hour.

Send us a signal when the bay is under control and the reinforcements are here.

- Good luck, my friend. - Same to you.

Much obliged.

Two thousand.

- Banco. - Banco.

Ciao, boys!

Damn it!

Three. Game, Fuehrer.

- Suivi. - Suivi?

- Banco. - Banco.

- Carte. - Carte.

Nine.

Yep.

The Nazis are shipping speedboats full of weapons out of the bay.

Right.

You keep distracting the Italians. I'll see what I can do.

Oh, yes. I am sorry about all this.

Forget about it.

Drop it, Rommel, or Pierre is gonna ice Adolf.

- He's got a pretty clear shot. - So do I.

llsa, have you been in cahoots with this Baccarat character all along?

I'm bangin' her, Rommel.

How could you do this to me?

I'm bangin' her Rommel.

I'm bangin' her, Rommel.

Damn it, they're gone.

Looks like Claire and Tucker sent in the cavalry.

I don't think you can make banco this time, Adolf.

Banco.

Okay, boys, shoot these Nazis.

Who needs a gun when you've got... imagination?

Bang!

I am the King of Waheed Al Quarn.

Thank you, thank you for liberating our city!

Don't mention it. What will you do with all that gold?

We shall use it to restore Waheed Al Quarn to its former glory

as the best brothel in North Africa!

What is that immensely shiny object?

Lieutenant, what do you think that ruddy great shiny thing is?

I think it's an ordinance beacon, sir.

Shell it, then, I suppose.

Jones.

The Mazzarucci Shaveissimo.

Finally, you can be the one who always has time to look good.

Mazzarucci Shaveissimo, re-define your face.

Subtitles by MemoryOnSmells Exclusive for http://UKsubtitles.ru

Everybody put your trousers on, orders are in.

Over the last several days, Allied forces across Europe

have been defecting to the Nazis.

Field Marshall Jenkins' entire platoon has recently gone Nazi

and Jenkins has a whole lot of classified information in his head

we don't want the Nazis to get their hands on.

Your mission is to get Jenkins back onto home soil,

find out what's making our men defect to the Nazis, and kill Hitler!