Have you considered just once that Dad
is not the bloke you think he is?
He's a selfish prick.
They wanted us out of the picture.
Who wanted us out of the picture?
- Albert, Lily.
Where's the gold?! It's in the wheelbarrow.
- Where's my gold, boy?
- Bob Fink's got it.
- Okay, Charlie.
I want to see her.
They were supposed to kill you
in Vic Hill's lockup 15 years ago.
- You were in on that?
We all have to go a little off peace at times.
- Yes, sir.
The truck is on its way.
Hello, hello, my little Grim Reaper.
- You still trucking, baby?
How long until your heavy-metal steed
slams into my throbbing mosh pit?
Should be clocked out by 2:00.
Right, let's be having ya.
Oh, no, you bloody well don't.
- We've rung the bell.
I warned you, Bobby-Boy. Now look at ya.
Right ol' mess.
Right, we got 30 hours to the exchange.
Got a safe house on Rivington Street
where we can stash it.
No.
Take it to Elm Lodge.
Bit close to home, sir.
I don't intend to let this out of my sight, Dwyer.
Call Peters.
Have him meet us there with the rest of the squad.
Load the gold into the van.
And if you ask Windrush nicely, he might lend a hand.
- Well?
Keys, keys, keys, keys, keys.
Oh, God.
Come on, let's go. Come on, come on, boy.
Come on. Good boy.
- Vic.
Albert.
Lotti.
- What the hell's going on?
Vic? Family meeting, everyone out.
Stay. Get out!
Stay! They've been more family
than you have these past few years.
All right, I'll tell you what happened.
Your son lost my gold to Bob Fink, all of it!
- Your gold?
You had it for all of about an hour
15 years ago the night you lost it.
I was sold out. Yeah, by Bob Fink.
Oh, how did we not see that one coming?
That was then and this is now, and now it's you!
You're the snake in the grass, my own son.
You lied to me! Both of ya!
Your father and your husband.
Father, that's debatable, isn't it?
I try my best for you, boy.
Being a bank robber and a responsible parent
weren't exactly compatible occupations.
Who said you had to be a bank robber?
I wouldn't have cared if you were a plumber or a pen pusher.
I was not meant to stick my head under a sink
or rot behind a desk!
And neither were you. That is not the Hill way.
Hill way? Do me a favor.
We have been hanging on by a thread
as long as I can remember!
That is enough, the pair of you!
You are so blind.
So desperate to dish out the blame.
You are both as obsessed as each other,
two peas from the same pod.
Now, this bloody gold has taken
its pound of flesh from all of us.
It's all of us, not just you.
I'm glad it's gone. Fink's welcome to it.
It can bury him the same way it's buried
everybody else who's had it in their hands.
It's late. We're all exhausted.
Get some sleep.
Everybody stays here tonight.
What do you want, Vic?
- My wife.
Fifteen years a long time for a stag
to be estranged from his doe.
The only loving embrace you're gonna get tonight
is from the cushion of the sofa.
Well, I didn't mean it like that, Lil.
I just... wanted to talk.
Well? Would you have preferred it
if I was a civilian, Lil,
stuck behind a desk every day?
Me wearing a tie.
You packing me cheese and chutney sandwiches
every day for lunch, would that have made you happy?
I knew who you were when we tied the knot
and I signed up to it, all of it.
And God knows I've always fancied you.
- Sometimes I wish I didn't.
Would've made all these past years a lot more bearable.
It's not me that you need to worry about, it's your son.
He needs a father who loves him,
who, more importantly, trusts him.
You know, he's grown up into a smart young man, your Albert.
I just hope you take the time to get to know him.
You used to be a bit of a footballer back in the day.
You still play a bit? Why?
You fancy a kick about, Hate 'Em?
You know, your old man used to drive me mad in the nick.
Spun me the same story over and over again
about how you scored the winning goal
on some poxy little league cup final.
I'm surprised he even remembered that.
- I never heard the end of it.
The score was 1-1.
It was the 89th minute.
My Albert through on goal.
Legs pumping like a pair of pistons.
Two massive defenders
descending down on him from either side.
He drops his shoulder.
Shells the first one like a monkey nut.
Second one got twisted like a pretzel.
Then it was my boy.
One on one with the keeper.
The keeper's come out, spread himself like an octopus,
all arms and legs.
My Albert stood his ground.
Spun that kid like a tornado.
Smashed the back of that net.
Yes, get in there!
You know, I thought I was gonna miss that, hmm?
- Your dad didn't.
He always knew you was gonna score.
Never doubted you for a minute.
Anyway, look, I'm knackered.
I'm gonna go and get my head down.
Good night, kid.
- Back of the net.
Oh, Scoot.
Wake me up in five.
I need to go and find the guys.
- Charlie!
Charlie. Morning.
Morning. Come in. The gang's in there.
- Come here.
Where have you been?
Ohh... let me see.
I was kidnapped.
Handcuffed to a radiator.
Beaten to a pulp, stuck in a closet,
then witness to a brutal murder.
- You, uh, been hitting
the old gin and mushrooms again, mate?
Eh, those days are behind me, Billy-Boy.
I'm a new man.
Who's this? This is Scooter.
I adopted him.
Oh, God, what happened? Someone die?
Yeah, actually, quite a few people.
- Oh.
- We lost the gold, Charlie.
Fink's got it. We're done.
Yeah, well, actually, Fink doesn't have it.
He's dead.
What do you mean... Fink's dead?
Yeah, with Fink's brains splattered across the rug,
off skipped Chief Superintendent Jones
to Elm Lodge with our bounty.
Do you know this Jones character, Hate 'Em?
- Yeah, he was a bent copper
on the beat from back in the day.
Must have bullied his way up the ladder.
And he said 30 hours to this exchange, right?
So he's gonna off-load the gold
early tomorrow morning to his client.
So that gives us enough time to track him down, right?
We are not going through all this again.
We are not going after the gold.
Now, I said it would kill Fink
just like it's killed everybody else.
What more proof do you need?
Yeah, I'm with Mum on this one. Forget the gold.
Let somebody else feel the weight of it.
We hit Jones at this exchange instead.
Let him do the work for us. We go for money.
I like where you're going with this, son.
We cut the middleman, play the end game.
What do you reckon, Lil?
Decamp to the lockup?
Plan it out properly, just like old times?
We pull this off, Mum, and we're clear
of all this shit.
We make for the sun like you and Dad always wanted.
A new life away from all this.
Dad, you all right? Vic?
- Vic?
Don't shoot!
Dirty son of a bitch!
Vic? Hmm?
Yeah, I'm all right.
Time to lay these ghosts to rest.
Hmm? Yeah.
- Girls?
Follow me.
All right, Vic, where's the work tools?
- Ahh...
Ma'am.
Do the honors, Hate 'Em.
- Be rude not to, Vic.
- Albert?
Jesus, Dad, I thought you was a bank robber,
not an urban guerrilla.
Oh, you know I've always been a sucker
for big-boys' toys, Albert.
Hot potato!
"Elm Lodge residence, Chief Superintendent Jones."
- What you got?
Maps. Aerial shots.
Even some interior photos.
We need plans of the internal layout.
Building specs.
Looks like a modern house,
so, architectural records should be available, right?
- Let's find out.
You all right under there? Yeah.
Here we go.
Got it?
You got it? Yeah.
- Jesus.
Now that is some old-school shit.
There is no school like the old school, son.
- Ain't that the truth.
Can someone let me out now, please?
Oh, coming on out you come. Coming.
Oh! Ooh.
Oh! Oh!
You all right? Eh?
I ain't got time to bleed, Hate 'em?
Hello, old girl. Been a while.
Jesus, shouldn't that thing be in a museum?
This thing's Old Gerty, son.
Don't be fooled by her oil leaks and rusty drawers.
This darling has tapped more conflabs than MI5.
- It's dead as a doornail, Vic.
Oh. Lift her up, Norm.
Let's have a look.
- Oh...
I'll get this old bird singing in no time.
That's everything we got on Elm Lodge.
Ugh, blimey. Honks a bit in here, Mr. Hill.
Yeah, well, you'd be a bit musty
if you've been banged up for 15 years, Charlie.
You think these Young Turks are taking the mickey out of us?
Would you like me to put them in the Judas cradle, Victor?
No, no, no, today we're all love and light, Hate 'Em.
No negative vibes, eh?
Right you are. Okay.
- Ahh...
Good old days, eh, Lil?
- Less of the old.
- Name that heist.
Bradox job, '88.
Electronic goods warehouse.
Down payment on our first flat.
Yeah, carried you over the threshold.
Didn't put me down for a week.
- Wait.
I still fancy you, sweetheart.
More than ever.
- I know you do.
- Oh, ho-ho!
- Thar she blows, Starbuck.
- Go on, turn it in.
You're looking good, Charlie.
- Do I?
Yeah, well, I... yeah. Well, yes, I do.
You know what? I feel good, Chloe.
Yeah.
- What we up against?
How does all this work, then, Norman?
- Nothing to it, son.
If that mutt goes anywhere near my bacon sandwich,
I'll turn it into mufflers.
- What do you reckon, Dad?
I reckon we lay bugs...
here... here...
and here.
Give ourselves good coverage to pick up Jones's comms
on the time and place of the gold exchange.
Right. Picture time.
We're gonna need passports.
What look are we going for, Mrs. H?
- Straight goer, Hate 'Em.
Just keep your mouth shut and you'll be fine.
There you go. Just look straight at the camera.
Got it? Lovely.
Next? Who's up next? Come on.
Go on, you get up. Yeah.
- Fine work here.
- Albert, do the honors.
Me? It's your plan, son.
Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, and Hate 'Em...
I hope you're ready for the main event.
We got three phases.
Phase one is intel, phase two is the takedown,
phase three is the getaway.
Have a look around ya.
Look at each other.
Each and every one of you has a skill set
that is going to come in handy.
Now, whatever role you play,
we're all as equally as important
if we're gonna pull this off.
We work together. We work as a team, all of us.
We work as a family.
- Ahh...
Ahh, you'll set the pineapples off!
- Let's go to work.
- Vic?
Albert?
Albert? What?
I'm not sure how I feel about being called a "tit," mate.
Who was the one that wanted a bird as a code name?
You. All right?
Now go on. Get up in the nest, Blue Tit.
- Sort it out, Norman.
Horrible you are. Horrible kid.
What?
You pulled the short straw.
Huh?
Don't get too comfy, boys.
This lot attracts bad guys like flies to shit.
Look at you two, Ronnie and Reggie.
Uh, yeah, oh, which one am I?
Ronnie or Reggie?
You're Ronnie, of course, Charlie.
Here you go, boys. Get mic'd up.
And you cannot break into a house
without these bad boys.
- Oh.
- There you go.
Um, yeah, what exactly are these, Mr. Hill?
They're creepers. They're creepers.
Bill, get Hate 'Em up on comms, will ya?
Blue Tit, this is Night Thunder.
And copy? Over.
Night Thunder? Night Thunder?
Are you taking the piss?
Well, that's rich coming from a blue tit. Over.
Blue Tit, this is Butch Cassidy.
- Yeah, course it fuckin' is.
Are you in the nest? Over.
- Give me a minute, will you...
Butch?
How much longer are these bloody Corsicans
gonna keep me waiting on this exchange point?
They're most likely navigating their way into the docks... sir.
The question is, which docks, Dwyer?
And is this to your liking... sir?
- Yes.
Oh.
Thank you, Dwyer.
Into position then, lads. Keep 'em peeled.
- Roger that, Sundance.
Here'll be fine. Here'll be fine.
Blue Tit is in the nest.
What's the scores on the doors, Blue Tit? Over.
You got two of them snot rags trooping the front.
You got two around the back.
And they're tooled up to the max.
Over.
- Copy that, Blue Tit.
- You're up, Thunder.
- Let's do this.
- Ugh!
Ronnie and Reggie, in position.
- Go, Reggie, go!
- What's going on, boys?
Nothin', boss. Motorbike a backfire.
Right, stand down. As you were.
Ronnie and Reggie are in the house.
Well done, now in and out, fast as you can.
Live on one.
They're heading back inside.
Snot rags coming back into the gaff.
Take cover, boys.
What's going on out there?
- Nothing to worry about,
just a motorbike backfiring, sir.
Whew, brass monkeys out. Do you fancy a brew?
Yeah, milk and two, stirred to the right.
I'll stir you to the right, you twat.
Nouveau riche wanker.
- Ta.
- Ronnie!
You are going down, Johnson.
- Oh!
Oh!
- Are they in?
- They're creepin'.
Huh, creepers.
Ooh-hoo! I just nearly got it in.
Right, mate, seen ya. Mm-hmm.
- We're live on two.
You're punching above your weight, Peters.
All right, come on.
Bad guys... they're everywhere.
- Ahh.
- Sir.
Well, this bad guy needs a refill.
Butch... I've got eyeballs on...
one of the twins in the TV room.
It's Ronnie.
He's got some balls, that boy, hasn't he?
- Here you are, sir.
We've got a full house, boys.
Edward G. Robinson's a real man, sir.
False alarm, boys.
Reggie and Ronnie, get back to base.
- Eh, rack 'em up.
Double or quits here. All right, stop whining.
You rack 'em up, I'm gonna grab a beer.
- Mm.
You're a very bad boy, sir.
Is that all you've got, Dwyer?
Put your back into it, for Christ's sake.
- I'll shit you, Johnson.
Prosecco? What a tosser.
Knob head's got to have a beer somewhere.
Unh!
Ronnie and Reggie, what is your status?
Ronnie had to nobble one of the Heavy Mob, Butch.
Now we're stuck in that larder.
Well, get out of there, sharpish.
I'm workin' on it, Sundance.
Come in, Butch Cassidy. This is Blue Tit.
I am bored out of my nut.
Can I please just shoot somebody now, over?
No, you bloody well can't, Blue Tit.
Hold your position.
Listen up, boys.
Jones. No, I thought
I was quite clear on this, dear.
You're not to call on my work line.
Dinner?
It's quite impossible, Patricia.
I'm staying at the country house tonight.
Your parents are coming...
Sounds like trouble back at the ranch.
Not feeling sorry for him, are you, Dad?
Sympathy and empathy are worlds apart, Albert.
supercedes official police business.
Quite honestly, you can feed them all
dog food for all I care.
Good night.
- That's the spirit, sir.
Do you know, given the choice...
I think...
yeah, I-I think I'd rather be Reggie.
Shh.
What are you talking about, son?
- Ronnie and Reggie Kray?
Reggie was always the cool one, wasn't her?
Well, having worked with 'em both,
I don't recall either of them
being particularly cool, Charlie.
You know, if we ever do this again.
I'd like to be Reggie next time.
Oh, whatever floats your boat, son.
Butch Cassidy, there's no way of getting out of here
without kicking the door down.
Oh, shit. Ooh.
Uh, that is a negative, Reggie.
You hold tight until we get the intel,
and then we will slip in and, uh, liberate ya.
Roger that. What are you talking about?
We can't just leave 'em in in there.
They're big boys. They're tucked away.
If we charge in there now, we will blow it.
No, we wait until we get the intel
and the Heavy Mob leave.
If they are compromised,
we bust in there all guns blazing.
Listen, Albert...
I lost it all before,
and I'm not talking about the gold.
I will not take a chance
if it means losing it all again.
This, here, now, is my dream come true.
Me and my boy... together.
- Jesus Christ.
You make it sound like we're camping.
I know. Never been happier.
Or prouder.
Never saw myself as taking a back seat to a fella.
Sweetheart, if our boys do get the money,
who do you think has to get the plan in place to disappear?
You really want to leave that up to them?
They are relying upon us for the long game.
Being the better half to a bank robber
requires a certain... gift.
A certain spirit.
You wait in the wings, often for years,
but when you're called upon
you act with a cool head...
and a clear conscience.
Are we thinking the Costa del Sol, Lily?
No. Not the Costa.
Too many old acquaintances and bad beer.
Somewhere more inland. A lovely finca.
Do you know, I've always wanted to grow oranges?
- Got it.
- Jones here.
About time, Petru.
- We're on.
Choppy waters out of Ajaccio.
Yes, of course we have the shipment.
We're just waiting on the exchange point.
Liverpool docks? Really?
- Ready?
That's quite some distance from here.
After the morning tide. No, wait, I need...
Oh...
Come on, come on. Pier number...
Dock number...
Oh, shit.
No, no, you listen to me.
There'll be no more mistakes, Petru.
We're on our way.
We're on, Dwyer.
Get the boys to load up the gold.
- Liverpool docks.
Coming in from Ajaccio before the morning tide.
Yeah, yeah, but that narrows it down, though, right?
Yeah, enough to follow the scent, boys.
Ronnie and Reggie, stay in position.
The eagle has landed, the Heavy Mob are on the move.
Blue Tit, what's the SP?
- Butch, they're on the move.
- Start 'er up, Benny-Boy.
- Okay.
It won't start!
Ahh! Ohh...
- Is that a Wood Lark?
Oh!
Shit, shit!
Johnson! We're movin' out, ya bellend.
Butch... send in the cavalry.
- I'm going in.
We are not going in now with our dicks in our hands.
It's time... for the big boys' toys.
- Let's go.
Ahh! Fuck.
- Ahh!
No! No...
Shit!
- It was him or me, son.
Get the gold in the van! Now!
Sir! Sir!
Get the van, meet us around the front. Go!
Come on!
Oh!
It's no good, Vic.
My guts are fallin' out. Up you go, old man.
I've got you. Come on, Norm.
Vic...
take Lily to the sun.
Make her happy.
I will, old friend. I promise.
- Ahh!
Go, Vic, go!
- Come on, sir, quick.
Move out, move out!
We're moving out!
Billy! Give me the bike keys, now!
Come on, son, quick!
Charlie, take this.
- Where's my dad?
He's in the back of Jones's van.
Let's get going, come on. Now, now, now!
- Come on.
- Unh!