Your son lost my gold to Bob Fink.
Actually, Fink doesn't have it. He's dead.
The safe house on Rivington Street.
Take her to Elm Lodge.
It's a bit close to home, sir.
I don't intend to let this out of my sight.
And he said 30 hours to this exchange, right?
So that gives us enough time to track him down, right?
We got three phases... phase one is intel.
Phase two is the takedown.
Phase three is the getaway.
Where's my dad?
He's in the back of Jones's van.
Oh!
_
Sync and corrections by explosiveskull www.addic7ed.com
Coming to get you, Vic! Hang on in there, mate.
Come on, come on!
You piece of shit thing.
Come on, Dad, pick up.
Come on, Dad, don't do this to me, pick up, pick up.
- Shit. - He's probably got no signal
in the back of that metal box.
Well, I just hope it's not a metal coffin.
Oh!
Well, I haven't seen you for a while.
_
- Albert. - Mum?
What's going on?
This is all kicked off, Mum, all right?
- We got rumbled. - And?
Norman got shot, Mum.
He's gone.
God bless him.
Did you get the info on the exchange?
Yeah, we did. It's Liverpool Docks.
The buyer's name is Petru.
He's coming in from some place called Ajaccio.
He's gotta leave before the morning tide.
We're following Jones in the van now.
We're on our way.
- Albert? - Yeah?
Where's your father?
I'll give it to them.
They've got some balls coming after us like that.
This Vic Hill, he's harder to kill than a cockroach.
Ain't no killing me.
He's a relentless bastard, I'll give him that.
He almost took us down.
Your boys almost fell asleep on the job, Dwyer.
Well, at least all that spilt claret will give your wife
an excuse to redecorate Elm Lodge... again.
Leave the irony to the ironic, Dwyer.
You're engaged solely for your more... basic instincts.
If the cockroach want for take over the chicken,
it must hire fox as a henchman.
One minute, girls.
That's badass.
Right. Move it.
Or it's perms all around.
Good boy, Scooter.
Go on, have that.
Al, just wondering...
what exactly are we gonna do when we get to the docks?
Disruption, extraction, escape.
Yeah, what do each of those phases entail exactly?
Well, that's the bit I'm still working on, Charlie.
We getting anywhere, girls?
The Liverpool docks are massive.
12 kilometers long
and 4 million square feet of warehouses.
We need to narrow it down.
Where did Albert say it was departing from?
The Ajaccio, port city on the west coast of Corsica.
And the buyer's name is Petru.
Petru, a Christian name common in Finland,
- Romania, and Corsica! - Corsica!
Well, now we know where it's coming in from.
What we need to find out is what time and where it's docking.
Three hours till Liverpool.
Doesn't this tin can go any faster?
I'm thrashing her like a nag on Derby day, Charlie, all right?
You're welcome to get out and push.
Sit. Paw. And spin around for me.
Down.
Who's a good boy?
Sit.
Jesus, this dog can do anything.
I swear, he must be police-trained or something.
Scooter, away.
Told ya.
He's a good boy, he's a good boy!
Well, that could come in useful.
Oh, shit.
Phone just died.
Oh, no worries.
Just by magic, I have another one.
Jesus, Charlie. How many phones have you got?
Oh, no, this is our old pal Bob Fink's.
You stealing a dead man's phone for?
That's a step too far, ain't it?
It's linked to his CCTV cameras in his flat.
I could use it as evidence when I sue the ass
out of the metropolitan police for being kidnapped
and beaten by one of their detectives.
Okay, wait a minute, that phone is linked to the CCTV
in Fink's flat.
Was it the same flat that Jones shot and murdered him in?
Well... now that you mention it, yeah.
Well, turn it on then. Let's have a gander.
Yeah.
- _ - Oh, shit.
Time to get clever, chaps.
We've got three cracks at this before it locks us out.
Seven letters.
"Bullion."
- Try "bullion." - Yeah?
It's a good a guess as any.
Bullion.
Access denied. Two left.
I found a website with all the boats
coming in and out of Liverpool.
It says where they're from and when and where they're docking.
Any sign of our Corsican friends?
Oh, there's hundreds of boats.
This is gonna take ages to go through.
Say the boys actually do boost the money.
How we going to escape, Lily?
It's not like The Flying Squad are gonna let us rock off
into the sunset without a fight.
We'll improvise as opportunities present themselves.
And if option "A" doesn't work,
then there's still 25 other letters of the alphabet,
- right, Lotti? - Right, Lily.
All right, so we had a proper obsession with my old man,
- didn't he? Try his name. - Worth a shot.
Vic Hill.
Huh, obviously not that obsessed.
Access denied. One left.
You know, if this all goes to plan,
I'll be beating the shit out of you in a paradise beach
for the rest of our days.
You're becoming needy, Dwyer.
It doesn't suit you.
You're a world-class prick... sir.
Thank you.
Jesus Christ!
Shit! Vic Hill's pet Neanderthal.
I'm beginning to believe that their obsession with my gold
is bordering on the demented.
I'll put one between his eyes.
No! Let me deal with it.
Nice to see you again.
What did you say your name was?
Them call me Windrush.
Oh, yeah.
And who are you? Hate 'Em All Henry.
Don't forget it.
Respect.
You have to earn my respect.
Come on!
Time to cut up your ass, mate.
Now we're even.
You want this?
Ahh!
This shouldn't take long.
Ahh!
Oh, I see your way. Come on...
Come on...
- Yah! - Ahh!
Ah! Ahh!
Is that it?!
Gotcha!
Ahhh... Ah!
Oh, shit!
Ahh! I'm gonna kill ya!
Ahh!
Oh, my God! Ohh...
Last chance to crack it.
Get the ball. Go, Scooter.
Surely not.
_
Yeah, I got it.
- Yeah? - Yeah, it worked.
- Yeah. - Yeah.
Well done.
Scooter... put that down
before you blow us all up.
Please, put that down.
Billy, what is going on back there?
Good boy, good boy.
Scooter, good boy, good boy.
He only went copped hold of one of these.
Oi!
Billy, how many of those pineapples you got back there?
I'd say about half a dozen.
Yah!
Aah!
Hey, wait...
Wait.
One last smoke. Hang on, man.
Respect.
Fuck your respect!
Hate 'Em?
You all right, luv?
Oh, I could murder a bacon sandwich, Mrs. H.
Come on, luv, let's get you up, eh?
Hang in there, big fella.
I've got one.
The Panizzi, boat coming in from Corsica.
Registered to a Peter Shryer.
Peter, Petru. It's the same name!
- Yes! - Just in different countries!
Does it tell you where it's scheduled to dock?
Pier Nine, Dock Four in an hour.
Right, hold on to your tits, girls.
I've got into the CCTV footage.
- Little agendas. - Oh, well.
Jeez.
Yeah, all right, I'm not even sure
Fink deserved to go out like that.
Can you upload that?
Uh, yeah, I can try.
_
- Mum, what you got? - Pier nine, dock four.
The Corsicans dock in an hour, Albert.
Okay. Here's the deal.
Text my old man again.
Get him to send me a smoke signal or something, please.
Quickly.
_
Yes!
Dad! Dad's all right.
_
So you boys know what you gotta do?
And you, you're with us now, isn't ya?
All right, well, let's do this, good luck.
Corsicans.
Thank you for stating the obvious, Dwyer.
Chief Superintendent Jones.
Petru.
I see you've brought backup.
We're all gangsters, no?
Even if we hide behind uniforms.
The gold. It is in the van?
It's close by.
But first,
we'll examine the money.
Make sure the ink is dry.
Now this is, uh, English humor?
I prefer to call it English pragmatism.
Well, here goes nothing, then.
Now... ze gold.
Heh!
Ze gold! Ooh la la!
Open the door, Dwyer.
Heads I win...
tails you lose.
Here's Victor!
Don't move.
Oh, you lot really do need a new catchphrase.
All right, all right, all right... oof!
Unh! Ohh!
No need for hostility.
I come in peace.
You really are a monumental pain in the ass.
What the hell is this, Jones? Who's this man?
This man...
is a floater in the toilet of life.
Soon to be flushed.
I bet you a pile of dodgy metal
it all ends in Claret.
Right, Victor.
What now?
What is this, Dwyer?
Un chien, un chien.
What the fuck is this?
No!
- Boss! You okay, boss? - Fuck! Fuck!
Aah! Unh!
It's a bomb-dog!
It's brilliant.
Now who the hell is this?
Heh! He's my son, Albert.
Ah-ah-ah!
One more move out of any of you,
and it's Christmas come early, comprende?
_
Now...
I've just come for me dad.
Bollocks to the gold. You can keep that.
It's all a bluff.
They want it all.
Either I leave with my old man right now,
or we all go up.
No one's going anywhere.
Let him go, you fucking idiot.
There's enough grenades on this mutt
to take out all of us.
Go on.
Put it down.
Oh, get up, Hill!
Oh, all right.
Oh!
Au revoir.
- Trust me? - All the way, son.
There'll be no rock
big enough for you to hide under.
Oh, no, no.
I think it's you that's gonna need the rock,
Chief Superintendent Jones.
Albert?
You'll pay!
_
Dad, let's move.
Police, stay down!
The money!
Shit!
Go!
Aah!
_
- In the van, Charlie! - Fuck!
Start her up, Charlie!
Oh, God, no! The van won't start!
Out! To the cop car! Come on!
Come on, come on, Charlie!
Go, go, go-go-go-go!
Oh, come on, Charlie... just throw it in there!
Get that gun!
- Get in! - There's no room, Charlie!
How do you suggest we do that?
Charlie, Dock 14, we'll meet you there!
Go, go!
Police, stop, stop!
Aah! Aah!
Around there, boy, around there!
Hit it, Charlie, come on!
Whoa... they're getting away!
Aah! Police!
Shit, they're gaining on us, Charlie!
I said fast!
Forward, ho!
- Aah! - Aah!
Aah!
Where'd you learn to drive like this?
Reverse, reverse, Charlie! Come on! Quicker!
They do not give up!
Easy, Charlie!
- Oh, shit! - Oh, shit!
Oh, no!
Aah!
- What do we do now? - Oh, shit.
Come out of the car with your hands up!
You can pray for a bloody miracle.
- What's that? - Oh, sh...
Boy, we're really flying now, Charlie!
This is the life.
Hands above your head.
We've been planning this takedown for months, you idiot.
Chief Superintendent Jones,
I'm arresting you on suspicion of the murder
of D.I. Robert Fink.
D.I. Fink's murdered?
What are you talking about?
There's a video been sent anonymously to us, sir.
CCTV footage of Fink's brains
painting the walls, you giving the order.
All these grudges,
these... seedy, little agendas.
Oh, well.
You do not have to say anything,
but it might harm your defense if you do not mention w...
You really are an animal, Dwyer.
The gold is by the water, sir.
Sailor boy.
What are you doing with my gold, Petru?
It is my gold now.
You son of a...
Don't move, I'll shoot!
Drop your gun.
Oh.
- Don't be silly, son. - Drop your guns!
You bastard, sir.
It's been excruciating, Dwyer.
Mum? Dock 14, right now.
We'll be there in a tic.
Oi, son, you don't happen to have
another one of those grenades handy, do you?
Well, as it happens...
If I can't have you, nobody can.
Chop-chop, chop-chop, boys, come on.
Move it!
Scooter?
Come on, come on!
Come on!
Couldn't run away, could you, Scooter? Good boy.
The fat lady sings.
Come on!
Chloe Koen,
I'm gonna kiss you.
Please do, Mr. Canvendish Scott.
Yes!
It's about time, son, about time.
Hey, now you can afford to take me on a proper date.
You'd be lucky.
Now you're in trouble, son,
now you're in trouble.
Whoo!
I told you I'd sort it, Lil.
Ahh, I never doubted you for a minute, Victor.
Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.
There's still one more thing we need to sort out.
Who knows the way to Spain?
We're going to Spain, baby!
Whoo!
Sync and corrections by explosiveskull www.addic7ed.com