Sins...
Are passed on to the next generation.
Previously on UMBRE...
Say they found who did it. Would that have made a difference ?
If they had, maybe I'd have done the same thing to him.
Toma... vanished into thin air.
My mates from Spain came by last night to tell me they've started the clock.
It's time to act.
-Where is it? -In the trunk.
Weed, for fuck's sake?!
You wanna know if they're boning?
A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell.
Freeze!
Girl...
10 kilos of weed?!
Sure, it could've been worse.
He could've been carrying a bottle of Diazepam.
Imagine, me going to the brass to brief them on my drug bust,
after tens of thousands of euros spent on months of stake-outs:
20 Diazepam pills.
"Some old lady in Bucharest won't be able to sleep tonight
for lack of sleeping pills."
That's what you gave me.
I wasn't giving you 10 kilos of weed.
I gave you Paganel, who knows about all the shipments.
It's no use knowing about them if they don't happen.
-And I don't mean 10 kilos of weed. -They're gonna happen.
Really?
How do you know? Did you have a seance?
Remember Nicu undoing his shirt, yesterday morning at the resto?
Right. Was it a third nipple thing?
He was showing us the Spaniards' handiwork.
They'd stopped by the night before.
They cut him from side to side.
Oh.
They've run out of patience. It is happening.
In a week, two, tops, but it's going to happen.
Someone's run out of patience with me too, I reckon.
I swear, I have no idea who.
Maybe it was a cat burglar.
To be sure, I had one of those fruit yogurts in the fridge.
To die for.
Well worth spending three years inside for the B&E.
I did this training course once.
Run by some American jerkoffs, from the FB...
...something or other.
Came to teach us the ABC's.
Did you know that, statistically, a new acquaintance will tell you
three lies in the first 10 minutes they've known you?
And that, on average, we each hear between 10 and 200 lies every day?
Are you lying to me, Nico?
No.
Hm.
Your nostrils are flaring...
Your cheeks are flushed... You're blinking often...
All of which point to a liar.
But, in my book, there's nothing more telling than the pulse.
Has your pulse quickened?
Let's see.
It's pulsing fast down there.
So? Am I lying?
It's like it's alive.
Like it's trying to tell me something.
Like what?
Stroke me...
Eat me...
Love me...
My blood sugar's crashed.
Gotta run to my next rendezvous.
With your very own Paganel.
-Has he had anything to eat? Or drink? -No, boss. Like you said.
What's this doing here?
-Uhm... to record, right? -Take it with you.
Can I get a glass of water?
Of course.
Evian? Vittel?
Perrier?
Huh? What...
Mister Paganel.
How did you end up with "Paganel"?
It's just what people call me.
Wrong.
It comes from Jacques Eliacin François Marie Paganel.
Tall, spindly gentleman, like yourself,
who is a central figure in Jules Verne's novel
"In Search of the Castaways".
-Have you read it? -No.
You're just like Messi.
Only read one book his whole life. Maradona's biography.
Does Maradona ring a bell?
Yes.
Here's a weird one...
Just goes to show the universe works in mysterious ways.
"Maradona" was also the name printed on a yellow truck
traveling from Constanta to Bucharest a few months back.
That truck blew up, out of nowhere, in a flash.
I don't know anything about any exploding yellow truck.
How about a green Vectra
with 10 kilos of weed in the trunk?
Any knowledge about that?
You were seen getting out of it, at a gas station, on the road to Cluj.
Is it registered to me?
I found it on the side of the road. I was taking it to the Police.
I've got traffic cam footage
that puts you behind the wheel in Bucharest.
If I buy half a kilo, do I get a bulk discount? 40 a gram?
No idea what you're talking about, boss.
Mate, we both know 10 kilos of weed isn't gonna get you life in jail.
A 7-year stretch tops, you'll be out in 2.
Except, you also attacked two cops.
I didn't attack anyone.
That's what they're saying.
Meh, all thin skin and brittle bones.
Not to mention, who knows what else a thorough search turns up.
-You won't find anything. -Maybe we already have.
Five grams of coke, 12 years, mate.
Put together, it gets you the longer stretch.
With good behavior, 7 and a half.
But no parole, since your rap sheet's so long, it rivals
"The Brothers Karamazov".
That's another cultural reference gone over your head.
But do you know when it's really gonna hurt?
One night, when you're hanging with your cell mates,
playing craps and drinking moonshine made from socks,
you'll get a call from the missus.
And she'll tell you, through the sobs, how poor little Adela...
...your favorite daughter...
...got attacked by hoodlums on her way back from school.
Your Adela,
who's just starting to grow pubic hair.
More like fuzz, like peach skin.
And then, you'll be sorry you weren't friendlier to me now.
When your wife's bawling on the phone
about poor little Adela getting fucked every which way.
Until she started liking it.
Got her first orgasm before getting her first period.
That's quite something, eh?
And there was nothing you could do.
Smells nice, huh?
I could pick your mom's cunt smell out of a lineup.
Hello.
Is your mom home?
Yes, she's upstairs.
Where is he, Relu? What happened?
Tell me where he is. I've been calling around all night.
I want you to listen to me. Without going ballistic.
Going ballistic?
My husband's behind bars.
And with his mile-long rap sheet, he's never getting out.
He's getting out.
They found 10 kilos of weed on him.
Weed isn't a class A drug, but, what with his priors...
He'll get the maximum, 7 years. He won't be in that long.
With a good lawyer, he's gonna get it reduced to 5.
And he'll be out in 2 and a half. For good behavior.
And he will behave, OK?
Jesus! Why would he do it?
-Why did he do it... -He did it for you.
For the girls.
While he's inside, you guys will get five grand a month.
-You mean... -I mean a lad will come by.
Every first Friday of every month.
And he'll drop off 5,000 euros in cash.
Every single month, until Paganel gets out.
How do you know all this stuff?
That's my job - to know stuff.
Think you can buy me with five grand a month?
5,000 euros a month is a lot of money.
When's the last time you made five grand in one month?
No one ever asked me if I wanted my husband rotting in jail for years,
all so I can get a monthly five-grand payoff.
Didn't you tell Paganel you wanted more?
Didn't you go to the Captain's wife whinging about what you deserve?
-Now you have it. You have more. -Not like this!
You can't have your cake and eat it too.
I'll go down this street and tell everybody about you.
You fucking assholes! All the neighborhood will know
how you wrecked my family. You hear?
I'll tell the world about you and the Captain and all you assholes.
Your call, lady. But if you do, you won't get a cent.
And Paganel's gonna get a real "shark" for a lawyer.
The type who eats shawarma outside the courthouse between trials.
He's gonna be in the clink longer. And for nothing, too.
My kids will grow up without a dad because of you.
-Don't rob them of their mom too, eh? -Just leave!
-Yeah? -Cheers!
It's Carmin, from Constanta.
-Oh, cheers. -We're in a bind.
-What kind of bind? -The headwinds in Bucharest.
And we'd like a parley.
I'll be there in two hours.
-I'm eating. -What?
Food.
I can't believe it. It's unacceptable. With the money I'm paying them?!
Did you tell them you're gluten intolerant?
-I'm what? -Gluten intolerant.
Hey there. Pop Puiu, is it?
-Mr. Pop Puiu. -How are you? All good?
Feelin' a bit gluten intolerant.
It's making me gassy.
Sorry, did you say something?
-I might've done. -Could you repeat it?
-What did he say? -I forget.
I've got dementia.
-What did he say? -Give me a minute.
How about you shut your mouth if you don't know what's coming out?
-Ma'am, let's not... -What's that condition called?
When you tell someone to go fuck herself?
But it's not really you talking, 'cause of this condition.
-Tourette's. It's a syndrome. -That's the one. Have I got it?
-Nope. -What a shame. I'm sorry, ma'am.
This mouth of mine is at your service, at your feet and where you want it.
Is your visitor not here yet?
I've got no visitor.
How about that lad who brought you in? Relu - was it?
-Is he your grandson? -He's a son of a something.
-Is he your son then? -He should be so lucky.
You didn't set it up right.
I set it up however I saw fit.
It's not healthy, you know, closing yourself off, sitting alone.
I'm not alone.
I'm looking at birds.
Feel like playing a game?
OK, then. I'll leave you to it.
Are you leaving? Are you leaving?
You're such a nag.
I'm going to the bathroom. Not gonna have my coat dragging in...
...that gunk in there.
Why so jumpy, lad? That's from too much smoking, see?
I bet you tricked the DMV into giving you your license.
Who says I have a license?
Tell me this - what do you do at a junction,
when a tram's coming up on your right?
I stick my ass out the window and drive with my eyes closed.
Nephew, Romania's the land of sheep and, if you're a wolf,
you don't yield to no sheep, you turn them into stew.
Go on.
Hello, grannie.
Good day, Mr. Nicu.
What's with the ceremony, girl? Do you see a crown or scepter on me?
Do I swagger like a stick's up my butt?
No, no.
Well, then? My name is Nicu, so call me Nicu.
All right, Mister Nicu.
"All right, Mister Nicu, all right, Mister Nicu."
To the bathroom with you. See to the bathroom, go on.
Go see to the bathroom. "All right, Mister Nicu."
Do you know what this place is?
A club.
I've been here a few times.
Is it cool?
It is, yeah.
-It's got good music. -Do you know who owns it?
Some guy called... I wanna say Octav?
-I've seen him around. -Wrong!
It's some guy called Mister Nicu.
What?
And as of now, it's some guy called Mister Teddy.
You're yanking my chain again.
I yank your chain 'cause I like you. But I'm not yanking your chain now.
Kid, you're too good to be frothing at the mouth
in a shitty club, with all the pussy in Bucharest
and all the silver-spoon chavs eyeballing you like a circus freak.
You've got too much going for you to be that guy.
How did you know?
I know everything.
I'm like that Lord of the Rings guy who bugged his eye
and saw all the way up dwarves' butts.
Real talk now, are you still messing with that?
Nephew?
No.
-Cross your heart? -Yes.
How did you know, though?
My parents don't even know.
And you weren't even in the country.
I might be low-slung, but my antennas are far-flung.
You saw how the cleaning ladies stand on ceremony around me.
Kid...
Of all the things in this world that bum me out, money, women,
these wrists I broke in the boxing ring and the dojo -
nothing bums me out more than people who let their potential go to waste.
So, God gives you a gift...
...and you blow it?
Teddy, lad.
Kid, you're better than me. And I'm better than your dad.
So then, what's the point going to him hat in hand?
"Can I please have 500 euros, treat my wife to a movie and a soda?"
When you could easily make 2,000 a week here?
Working for it. Earning it.
In-de-pen-dence.
Are you for real?
I'm for real even when I'm talking out of my ass.
And I'm not talking out of my ass now.
Are you in?
So, what do you do at a junction when a tram's coming up on the right?
Stick my ass out the window and drive on with my eyes closed.
Dickwad!
Have you met Sabin?
-Here I am. -Here we are.
No need.
Sabin's a wolf, only looks like a black sheep.
He'll be hanging around here with you, just in case.
I think I can manage.
Mhm. I know you can manage.
But a wolf's more bad-ass in a pack.
And Sabin's got a good right hook, when he's not sparring with me.
Join us for a drink?
Sure thing, boss.
Steady mind. Ready to fight.
Cheers, to us!
People know me around here. We'd better not.
God, that's nice.
-Not as nice as yours. -Sure.
A girl's got to have a skill.
Sorry I'm late. Work emergency.
-A work emergency? -Mhm.
You sell pen and paper.
Did people run out of stuff to write "whore" on post-its with?
I told you, I looked into that and I couldn't find who did it.
And I sell stationery with personalized headers.
There's a lot more to it than you'd think.
It's art.
A decade from now, museums will put your papers on display.
Uh... did I...
Did I do something wrong? Did I upset you somehow?
You said to come downtown for a bite...
And you're an hour late. Even though you picked this cafe
because your office is in this building.
I thought it would be efficient.
You're all about efficiency, huh? All about the schedule.
So, what are you implying?
You come by the flat on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.
From 8 to half past 9. You chat to Chuckie for half an hour,
then chat to me for half an hour, then we have sex.
For half an hour, tops.
That's not fair, and you know it's not true either.
And it's very efficient. I mean...
We're doing good, right? It's going very well.
It's only been a couple of months and I'm already tight with Chuckie.
-He likes me. -Are you sure?
Of course I am. My gut feeling, as a man and a dad, doesn't lie.
And it's very good for him as well.
Have you seen how he laughs with me when we chat?
He laughs with you?
Gina, I'm really trying here.
I'm fully aware he needs a father.
-He's already got one of those. -Oh, does he?
Wow! Where is he? Haven't seen any sign of him.
-Count your blessings. -Oh?!
Oh, no! Oh, my Lord!
Relu Oncescu! Ugh!
The mobsters' boogie man, eh?
Bucharest's shadowy strongman.
Honestly, now.
Spitting, swearing, punching - there's nothing to it.
I could do all that, too. Except I'm not 16 anymore.
-That's what you think Relu does? -Don't know what he does, who cares?
All I know is he wasn't making you happy.
It's not like I forced you to be with me.
-It's not about that. -Then what's it about?
It's about us being just a cell in an Excel table for you.
But you're a very important cell.
Two very important cells.
Come on, this is silly, let's move on. Are you hungry?
The asparagus soup with parmesan is sensational here.
The pasta, too...
Where are you going?
Sorry. I only penciled this in till 3, but since you were an hour late...
-Gina, hold up, Gina! -We'll talk on Monday, from 8:30 to 9.
Gi... Gina!
Gina! Gi...
Mother fucker.
Hold on.
-Mr. Sebastian... -Not now.
There are two men here for you, in the meeting room.
Andra... not now.
I heard you, it's just...
What's that?
It's a giraffe taking it doggy-style.
-Kindly leave this room at once. -Kindly enter this room at once.
Who are you?
I'm Hansel. He's Gretel.
OK, got it. Andra, call the cops.
And people badmouth the Romanian Police.
You've only just called, and look, here we are.
-So, what, you're cops? -In our spare time.
Otherwise, we're witch hunters.
I wanna see some ID.
Do we look like ticket inspectors that you card on public transport?
Sit the fuck down!
Who the fuck do you think you are?
Sit. The. Fuck. Down.
Sebastian yada-yada-yada, 44, born in Bucharest.
Music High School graduate - wow!
Is it true that, if you're giving a soprano head,
and she hits a high note, you reach Nirvana?
That's what I hear.
I wouldn't know, I went to a vocational school.
Lathing.
Tough break.
Right. You then went off to Construction College.
So you quit the magic flute - mighty pragmatic of you.
You set up a stationery firm in 2001.
Married. With two kids.
-Am I missing anything? -Small dick.
Looks that way - no judgment here.
Oh, and one more thing.
He's smashing buns with Mrs. Gina Oncescu.
Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday?
-I guess. -What?!
-What? -What?
What...
What?
How dare you?
Well, no, I don't dare.
'Cause, unlike you, I've met Relu Oncescu.
And I wouldn't have the balls to fuck anything with a cunt
in his family.
Luckily for you, you're a nobody, so we're not here for you.
As the previous speaker correctly pointed out,
luckily for you, you're a nobody, so we're not here for you.
We're here for Mrs. Gina, with the panettone-grade buns
and, more to the point - for Mr. Relu.
Relu Oncescu.
Right. I want to call my lawyer.
"I wanna call my lawyer."
Are we in an American movie? No.
So, call Stephen the Great's mom for all I care.
Only, don't fuck her. Stephen's a quick-tempered fellow.
And he's quick to spill innocent blood.
End quote.
Have you been smoking?
D'uh.
I've also been whoring.
You weren't so cocky on the phone. What do you want?
I'm in a jam.
Yeah, I figured you didn't call to tell me I'm a kick-ass sister.
Are you?
If you're gonna be a bitch about it from the get-go...
Hey, you don't talk to me like I'm one of your mates. Got it?
What jam?
I vandalized school property.
-Meaning? -Some sockets.
-Why? What did they ever do to you? -Ha!
Go on, I'm waiting.
We wanted to see who can kick higher on the wall.
-Right... -And I won.
And now they want to expel me.
-Over some sockets? -Not just those.
-There were more sockets? -Stop playing dumb.
There was other stuff, before this.
And the principal said this was the last straw.
And you figured I'd bail you out 'cause mom and dad are just too thick
to understand what a model student you are.
Whatever, man.
Man, you don't know what you're talking about.
You're not there to see it.
Mom and dad are at each other's throats all the time anyway.
If I tell'em I stepped on the grass where it says to keep off the grass,
they're gonna kick my ass.
What was I gonna do?
Wait for me in the car.
Go wait in the car.
I'm very sorry.
I'll pay for the sockets.
I'll get a handyman to install them, the school won't shell out a dime.
It's not about that.
I know it's not about that. And I know my brother's...
...he's acting like an idiot, even though he isn't one.
-I know he's become aggressive. -No, Magda, not just aggressive.
He's become a danger to his schoolmates and teachers.
-No one can get through to him. -I can. I talked to him out there.
-He's sorry about what he did. -Hm.
He said that? That he was sorry?
No. But I could tell he was.
Madam principal, our family...
...got shot to pieces. In one year.
Mom, dad, me...
We've each dealing with our own stuff. And he got...
-Caught in the middle of it. -I understand.
But that's not on us or his classmates, and we're putting up with...
It's not on him, either!
When school lets out, you all get to go home to your families.
Warts and all, but it's home and it's there.
His isn't.
He's got nowhere to vent his anger, so he does it here.
And if you call my mom down, or my dad - they're gonna...
They're gonna do exactly what you'd expect - punish him.
Except, he's already been punished.
That's why he's acting out.
Don't count on me coming down here next time.
There won't be a next time.
Thanks.
You're late, boss. You're never late.
-Where's Romica? -Romica's laid-up.
Running a 40-degree fever. Coffee?
No, thanks. We've got it in Bucharest, too.
So.
We heard about Paganel.
-We're gonna sit this round out. -What?
It's too risky.
Do you think we're idiots?
Don't you think we'd shut it down, if Paganel were a problem?
He's not.
Not for you, he's not, 'cause you're all friends with the guy.
But he's not our friend, so he is a problem, for us.
Half the trip from the border to us is through you.
We need...
-I wanna talk to Romica. -Romica's laid-up.
Running a 40-degree fever.
You must've rehearsed that line a lot - really sticking the delivery.
I drove two hours to get here, from Bucharest, to meet him.
And he can't come talk to me for 15 minutes?
Romica's laid-up, running a 40-degree fever.
Everything we've told you we talked over with him first.
It is what it is.
-Romica, if this is... -Are you still with those bozos?
What?
-No, I was about to go back home. -Come over first, let's talk.
-Hello, kitty! -What a little rascal.
How 'bout it? Brush up against them?
-Give'em a sideswipe? -Fuck'em. Can't wait on the detailing.
Fuckin' rabbiting...
Indica?
-Sativa! -Hope you don't drown it in tobacco.
-No, I don't smoke. -Good for you.
-That's for vaping. -Have you got a vape pen?
-Dunno what that is. -It's like an e-cig.
Then, no.
Are you two cops?
Sort of.
If you want, I can get you a vape pen.
-Take it, please. -What are we supposed to do with it?
-Please, don't put me in jail. -We won't.
-No? -Nope.
So, then, why did you stop me?
To ask about the vape pen.
And 'cause we care about the health of our country's youth.
How about a ride home in our car? With the sirens on?
So you don't get hollared at by punks - at this hour.
Or do you maybe live two blocks over, on Bogdan Voda?
I live two blocks over, on Bogdan Voda.
Yeah, called it, man!
Great.
Remember.
And you won't tell on me to mom and dad?
On one condition.
You don't tell on us either.
By the way, he's Vlad, I'm Titus.
And we're Emilian's guys.
Go on home, get!
Ma'am...
I told you, you can't smoke in here.
Who's gonna see me?
An hour and a half I've been sat here, waiting, like a chump,
for someone to take my statement. And there's no one.
I'm asking you nicely to put that out, and...
I'm asking you nicely, too.
Get someone to take my statement, or my complaint, or whatever the fuck.
Please watch your language.
-You didn't just... -You're in cahoots with them, huh?
-Sorry? -Tell me.
Are they paying you to act the fool or is it just who you are?
-Who's that, ma'am? -The Captain, Relu.
You're in their pocket, right?
You mean, our police Captain?
Fuck you motherfucking spineless wimps!
Ma'am...
You fucking good-for-nothing...
Go fuck yourselves, the lot of you...
Fucking shit for brains...
How's it going, mate?
Can I get you a bourbon, a Cognac?
Pop Toma - God rest his soul - he had a sophisticated palate.
You called me here to talk about Toma's palate?
I'm more of a Coke guy myself.
Both kinds.
Different generation. Raised on soda fountain pop.
Paganel's not a problem.
I'll vouch for him.
You like what I'm doing with the place?
That old wallpaper was such a drag.
Made me think of death.
I want something in gold, more alive, more joyful, you know?
Same goes for in there.
Let's talk about why I'm here.
We're already talking about just that.
When the lads came to remove the carpet,
they found brown stains underneath.
First thing I thought was jam.
Pop Toma had a soft spot for sweets.
But he was no spring chicken, his hands were shaking, see?
I figured, he spilled some.
But then, Tarzan - oh, you don't know, got myself an Amstaff pup.
You should see him, he's a doll - clever and curious, just like me.
So what do you think Tarzan found in the yard?
A nose! Say what?!
In the exact same place Coco was sniffing around, remember?
Pop Toma's dog?
The one that got run over when you were walking her.
So then I started thinking...
Who the fuck would even have the balls
to snuff out the old guy and bury him in his own yard, under the peonies?
That's when I remembered how we met.
Remember? When you slashed my nostril with a jack knife?
And then, in a more intimate setting,
when you sat in a tub full of your own blood.
When you promised Toma you'd handle the Captain.
And then didn't do it.
And Toma - well, the old fart, ex-Securitate, limited skill set,
got worked up and did a messed-up thing.
And innocent people suffered.
If someone killed the baby in my daughter's belly,
I wouldn't have buried him, fuck that.
I'd've dumped him in a landfill. For the rats.
What do you want?
I'm sitting on this treasure trove of information,
but fuck if I know what to do with it.
'Cause if I go tell my guys I found Toma -
recognized him by his watch -
they're old guard too, ain't got much going on upstairs.
If I tell the Captain and Nicu about your deal with Toma,
strike two, you're still toast.
So? What do you want?
The Spain meeting's coming up.
I'm not getting an invite, I'm nobody.
But you stand a good chance of it, as well you should.
And now I ask you: why would you strike a deal with Spain?
What use is a middle man now?
I'm a top dog in Constanta, you're a big gun in Bucharest.
You wanna get rid of Nicu?
No. I don't wanna get rid of Nicu.
I want you to kill him.
And mark my words, once Nicu's gone,
the Captain's gonna edge himself out, slowly but surely.
I can promise you that.
I'll let you think on it.
In the meantime, I got you a present. Remembered you've got a birthday
coming up in April.
Relu - Ismet. Ismet - Relu.
This asswipe drove the truck that ran Magda's car off the road.
I know, you're gonna say it was Toma, it was Geamanu...
But it was this asswipe at the wheel. He ran your daughter off the road.
My gift to you.
Relu... our time has come.
Oh, before I forget...
You're all set. Cling wrap everywhere. And the hole's already dug.
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