(intense music)
- We need...
Barnaby Walker, he'll lead us to the painting.
(gun firing)
- Not dead, really silly idea.
(tires screeching)
(The Investigator grunting)
- We're looking for a painting.
- By a mid-century Austrian artist,
Adolph Hitler.
- [Barnaby] Absolutely not.
- Are you interested, Ms. Morales?
- [Nina] Now, give me one good reason why
I would wanna work with you two scumbags?
- [Keegan] How about half a million dollars?
- Need to stay hydrated.
- Thanks.
(van engine running)
(intense music)
(Barnaby groaning)
Where am I?
- You freaked out on the flight,
they had to sedate you, drag you off the plane.
- Then why am I handcuffed to a chair?
Oh my god, I'm being sectioned, aren't I?
Please tell the messengers that it runs in the family.
My uncle George ate cat food, it's a posh thing.
(man speaking in a foreign language)
- You just gotta talk to them.
- Who?
- [Webb] Ah, Mr. Walker.
It's a pleasure doing business with you, Ms. Morales.
- Help, help!
Ah, ow.
- What the hell?
- Really uncalled for.
- Sorry.
- All right, enough with this shit.
I want my money.
- Oh, you'll get your money,
when we get...
(Webb speaking a foreign language)
- (scoffs) No, no no no no.
This wasn't the deal.
- Take it, or leave it.
(wheels squeaking)
- Hey, hey, hey,
listen, Barnaby.
We could split the money 50-50.
- I don't want their money.
- Fine, good, more for me.
- Help us, Mr. Walker.
We will never come near you, or your family again.
- I trusted you.
- I told you kid, we need each other.
- Have I told you, over my dead body?
This is my father's world, I don't want anything
to do with it.
- Well, that's not a choice you get to make.
You are deep in this shit whether you like it or not
and so am I because I tried to be a friend to you.
- Fine.
I'll help you find this, but after that, that's it,
we go our separate ways,
because if this is how you treat your friends,
then I don't want you in my life.
Okay, I'll help you find the...
Hitler.
(handcuffs clacking)
Uncuff me.
(upbeat music)
(phone vibrating)
(phone beeping)
- Hello?
- [Barnaby] Leah, where are you?
- In the bath, having a wank.
- [Barnaby] Then why pick up the phone?
- Mm, a new number, kinda spicy.
- [Barnaby] How did you get home?
You just disappeared, I was worried.
- [Leah] You know all these people who say how jakes it is,
getting banged abroad?
Excuse me.
- [Barnaby] Nobody says that.
- Excuse me.
Well, the Chihuahua's Hilton's less horrific than
boarding school, and I definitely made more friends there.
Hasta luego, putas.
(women shouting in a foreign language)
How was Mexico, are you super burnt?
- [Barnaby] I have a slight case of farmer's arm.
- [Leah] But you've got skin like supermarket turkey--
- Just ask about the painting.
- Leah, what do you know about a painting called
(speaking a foreign language)
- The Hitler?
Hm, dad told me a bit.
I always heard it was an urban myth.
- [Barnaby] What did he say?
- Well, so the story goes,
Hitler had to go off and boss the eastern front, right?
So, he painted his missus and her sisters
to keep him company.
- Ugh, that's just so vile.
Why would anyone want to own this thing?
- Mm, probably 'cause it's got Hitler's DNA
splashed all over it.
(Barnaby and Nina grunting)
Think about it rationally.
If you were gonna make a Jurassic Park but with Hitlers,
this painting would be the mosquito in amber.
- Why would anyone want to do that?
- Why would anyone build a park out of Lego, but they did?
- There is nothing wrong with Legoland,
the thinking child's Alton Towers.
- [Leah] (sighs) You sad little gimp.
- Kids.
All right, listen, so the painting's real, it's out there.
So, what's the deal about selling this shit?
- It's not actually illegal to sell Nazi merch in the U.K.,
but it is creepy and gross.
No auction house would ever touch it.
There's this whole semi-black market of buyers
who aren't breaking the law, but who would pay
top dealer for their dealer's discretion.
- Just tell me who your father sold his Nazi stuff to,
okay, his number one client, that's all I need to know.
- Okay, Jesus,
but he's not gonna meet you alone.
What's in it for me?
(bird screeching)
(horse whickering)
- [Man] Agua.
(man grunting)
(intense music)
(horse whickering)
(door shutting)
- [Barnaby] Very welcoming.
What is that smell?
(loud rock music)
- Ha!
You both look like shit.
- Fuck you, too, where is he?
- We never actually met, just spoke to him on the phone
a couple of times.
- So, will he be wearing a carnation or something?
- He said he'd be the white guy in biker gear.
- Well, that narrows the field.
- Leah?
Colin McQueen, thanks for meeting here.
I'm aware that the clientele are rather ribald.
Shall we?
I met your father, oh, 10 years ago.
He'd come into the possession of Albert Speer's valise.
- Did my father send you many pieces?
- What would you say if I told you
I'm wearing Henry Heimlich's spectacles?
- I would say, why?
- They're not even my prescription.
- Oh my god, this is all so revolting.
- B, where are you going?
- No, I want to go, don't want anything to do with
people like this...
With all due respect, lunatic.
- Well, you know what they say.
One man's lunatic...
- Sit down.
- Or else what?
- I thought we talked about this.
- Jesus, you guys are like a married couple.
Barnaby.
- What? - Do me a favor,
get me a beer.
- Oh, Mr. Walker, creme de menthe.
- Of course.
- So, what do you know about
(speaking foreign language)
- [Nina] You mean the Hitler painting?
- I mean the holy grail.
- Hello, three beers please, and a creme de menthe.
- ID.
ID.
(Barnaby grunting)
(Barnaby mumbling)
(Barnaby grunting)
(door shutting)
- 16 years ago,
(speaking foreign language)
was stolen from its owners, a group of gentlemen,
mostly Ukrainian, with fairly robust political views.
- Where did Barnaby go?
- Perhaps to the smallest room?
- The what? - A chai check.
It's about time I availed myself of the facilities.
My bladder's not what it was.
Ah, to be young goes very well.
- Ugh.
Seriously, where is Barnaby?
- You heard him, he's gone home in a huff.
- Well, why would he go home?
- I don't know.
Why were you having your little lover's tiff?
- It's none of your goddamn business.
- Anyway, 50-50 sounds a lot better
than 33.3333333 recurring.
- What makes you think I'd give you anything?
- I know the business, I know the clients,
the clients know me, and you know sweet F-A.
- (sighs) I'll give you 10%.
- [Leah] Bye.
- Sit down. - Hey!
- Okay.
- Say it. - Fuck you.
- Say it!
- 50-50.
- No sign, I'm afraid.
I hovered too, in case he was dropping trou.
- Tell me everything you know about the
(speaking a foreign language).
- (sighs)
(speaking a foreign language)
- That's what I said, Penfold.
- I have a photograph.
- [Leah] What photograph?
- It's back at the school.
- School?
(bell ringing)
(people talking)
- Why are those dweebs dressed like the Monopoly man?
- I think it's to build up their sense of entitlement,
early doors.
- What are you, a teacher?
- For my sins, I taught the princes.
- No shit, William and Harry?
- Harry and I have exactly the same inside leg.
He borrowed a uniform of mine for a party once.
His wife is such a bitter disappointment.
Chop chop!
(doorbell buzzing)
- Good afternoon.
I'm from the Home Office.
Mrs. Nina Walker?
- Fiona Walker.
- No, I'm looking for Mr. and Mrs. Barnaby Walker.
- Oh.
Well, Nina does stay here sometimes,
but she's Nina Morales.
- You are aware that Barnaby Walker
and Nina Morales got married?
(Fiona exclaiming)
(Fiona shouting)
(Colin sighing)
- My office,
the inner sanctum,
the eagle's nest.
(Colin sighing)
(key rattling)
(drawer shutting)
Hitler had such an eye for detail,
not many people realize this.
The (speaks foreign language) he employed on Eva's breasts,
you can practically bury your face in them.
- How much is it worth?
- (scoffs) Millions, but in art historical terms,
of course, the (speaks foreign language) is priceless.
- Why, 'cause it was Hitler?
He wasn't an artist.
- Was he not?
- He was a mass murderer.
- Paul Gauguin's paintings sell for hundreds of millions
of pounds and he was a syphilitic pedophile.
If you went through the Take taking down all the paintings
by misogynists, deviants, anti-Semites, and yes,
murderers, you'd be left with one or two drab
watercolors and tree seamen's wretched bed.
- Okay, so it was stolen from those Ukrainians, right?
Then what?
- You were right there.
You look like you just shit your lederhosen.
- The thief was caught, but only after he'd sold
(speaks a foreign language) on to a mystery third party,
and although my lederhosen are at the tannery,
what caused me to metaphorically soil them was a memory
of just how savagely the thief was punished.
Cup of tea?
I insist.
- And they let this kook near kids?
- Look at this,
it's Bruges,
off to the side of that belfry.
Did someone order a legend?
(tea pouring)
- Bruges.
Barnaby had a boner for that place.
- Yeah, 'cause dad took him there when he was 13.
16 years ago.
- Emma Queen said the painting went missing--
- 16 years ago.
- Right.
- So, your dad buys the painting in good faith.
The guy who sold it to him gets killed?
Then Nigel realizes if he ever tries to sell this thing,
they're gonna trace it right back to him.
- So where is it?
- I don't know.
(Colin sighing)
- But they are--
(Nina clearing her throat)
- Here we are.
Now, shall I be mother?
So, am I correct in thinking you have some new information
about the painting?
I don't want to pry.
I poke my nose into all kinds of nooks and crannies.
Mother used to say she's cut it off. (chuckles)
- Only two cups?
- Oh, my mistake, I'll fetch another cup in a tick.
- Nah, I hate tea.
- You haven't tried it.
I double bag.
- You're all right.
- Looks like it's just you and me,
and I don't take milk,
but don't let me stop you.
- No, I,
I don't want to make a spectacle of myself.
- Drink your tea.
(cup and saucer clattering)
(Colin chuckling nervously)
- Do you know, I clean forgot,
I have another class post-meridianus.
- I'll just keep this.
- Of course.
- If dad did hide that painting, we can find it.
- Sure, but I wanna find Barnaby first.
- We don't need him.
We're the perfect double act.
I'm the new kid on the block,
you've been around the block, like, a million times.
- Those Ukrainians, they're not some pissy lightweight
golf club racists.
They're not gonna be on their iPhones trolling you,
you know what I'm saying?
They're gonna go hard, so I wanna make sure
that Barnaby is sitting at home feeling sorry for himself
and not at the bottom of some freakin' river.
- Get off the grass, woman!
- Kiss my ass, Dumbledore.
(intense music)
(lights slamming on)
(Barnaby grunting)
- [Keegan] I don't want it to get too soft.
- [Webb] But it won't yield unless it's wet.
Watch me.
It's all in the wrist.
Mmhm, yes.
Mmm.
Finally.
- Better late than never.
- Your competitor brought us Mr. Walker this morning.
- Didn't you know?
Nina Morales has entered the fray.
- When he brings us the painting,
she'll get the finder's fee,
unless you persuade her to step aside,
by fair means or foul.
- That's the gig economy,
eat or be eaten.
- Barnaby!
- Hello, baby.
Oh, Nina, I am so happy for you both!
Oh, was Barnaby okay in Mexico,
because his tummy usually plays up on holiday?
Do you remember that time we went skiing,
he had to take tartar and he was so sick,
he was shitting off the edge of a cliff,
and daddy only found him... (sighs)
by following the brown streaks in the snow?
- [Nina] How you doin', sweetie?
- I'll be fine, you know,
as soon as we get through the funeral--
- Wait, mum, isn't Barnaby back yet?
(Martin clearing his throat)
- That's my new friend.
- Where is Mr. Walker?
- At his bachelor party.
I believe you guys call it a stag do.
- Oh, with whom?
- His buddies from school,
Humphrey, Lancelot, couple of dukes. (chuckles)
- I should warn you that if your marriage is proved to be
a sham designed to obtain a U.K. passport,
then you can be jailed under the Immigration Act.
- You don't elope with somebody that you're not
in love with, and when they're together,
they're like teenagers, honestly.
They're insatiable.
(Leah gagging)
- Well, unless he's available to answer my questions
in person, I shall be forced to refer your case
to the police.
- Of course.
- I shall show you out, Martin.
- Thank you.
(door shutting)
- Okay, what's going on between you and Barnaby?
- It's not important.
- Are you sure about that?
Where the hell is he?
(door shutting)
(man murmuring)
(neck bones cracking)
(door shutting)
(phone beeping)
- You.
- Me.
(phone ringing)
- Hello?
- Ms. Walker, Colin McQueen.
I have Barnaby with me.
- Leah, he's got me in some sort of cellar,
but I think I can hear a road,
and the plugs are British!
(Barnaby grunting)
- Barnaby!
- Give me that.
Barnaby.
- Guess again,
and if you want to see Barnaby alive again,
can I suggest you bring me (speaks a foreign language).
You have 24 hours or else
caput.
(phone beeping)
(upbeat drum music)