All language subtitles for The bank job.English

Another "Terry Leather
Low Mileage" done.

Good you're glad, but have you all
sorted out for your wedding tomorrow?

Yeah, of course, Terry.

New suit, two buttons,
9 inch pump flaps.

Nice.
Ingrid will like that.

So, you're getting
married tomorrow, Ingrid?

I hope so.

Go on, get off now.

Go make yoursef more beautiful
than you already are.

If that's possible.

Terry.

Promise you won't get Eddie
too legless tonight, will you?

At his stag do?
(bachelor party)

We're just going round the pub,
couple of pints and a sing song.

Oh, fuck...

Fuck it, what are you
trying to do to me, eh?

I've got Jessul's money.

The Problem is,
it's tied up in these cars,

and you wankers want to
trash the lot of 'em.

Mr. Jessul doesn't care about
your inventory.

Mr. Jessul wants to know
that he's getting paid.

Any day, I swear, Perky.

What did you call me?

I called you Perky, Perky!

Everyone calls you Perky,
and him Pinkey.

- Pinkey and Perky?
- Yeah.

They're fucking cartoon pigs
on the telly,

what, people call us
that behind our backs?

Well, I'm not gonna say it to your face,
aren't I?

Well, you just bloody did!

Yeah well, you got me rolled.
I'm very intimidated.

Don't make us come back again.

Not every customer is
a satisfied customer.

What are you doing
here, my dear Martine?

What are you doing tonight?

Tonight?
Tonight is Eddie's stag do.

Taking him out for a drink.
Why?

I've got a proposition for you, Terry.

A proposition?

Can you meet me at the Player's Club
before you see the boys?

And I'll fill you in on the details.

Make it 9 o'clock.

- Morning, Gale.
- Good morning, Tim.

Top floor?
Summoned by the gods?

Something like that.

Got up to your new
mistress this weekend?

I don't know what you're talking about,
I'm a married man.

What do you think,
am I presentable?

Not sure about the tie, darling.

What's this?
"Peace and Love"?

Too much of that nonsense
and we're both out of our job.

Michael Abdul Malik.
Calls himself Michael X,

in homage to Malcolm X,
his American counterpart.

The Pinko (socialist) press would
have us believe this Michael X

is a crusading champion
of the poor and oppressed.

And the black Robin Hood
of Notting Hill.

The richer, whiter and more famous,
they will all fall over him

The truth is, he's a slum landlord,
a drug dealer

and a vicious pimp who should have
been in prison years ago.

Are you not charging outrageous rents
to my brothers and sisters, Mr. Brown?

I'm charging the same as your
slum-lord friend Lew Vogel.

Ten quids a week is too
much for these shitholes.

You know,

I always wanted to meet
a white man by the name of Brown.

You know what this is?
It's a slave collar.

And a white man made my mothers
and fathers wear this

to bend them to his will.

Can I bend you to my will,
Mr. Brown?

You sure got a faithful
dog now, Michael.

Michael, I don't think we
should get our hopes up here.

Kidnappning, extortion,

assault on this man Brown here,

as well as your previous problems
with the law, I mean...

You could be looking
at 10 to 20 years, I'd say.

I don't think so. I am smarter
and better protected than whitey thinks.

All rise.

It seems Michael X has managed
to keep himself out of jail

by threatening to release

damning photographs of a
certain...royal personage.

Until we get our hands on these snaps,
the police can't move.

The public prosecutor won't move...

and the home office
doesn't want to know.

Has anyone actually
seen these photographs?

Yes, but at the minute
I'm not at liberty...

to say who that person is.

We've had Michael X under surveillance
for quite a while.

He keeps a safe deposit
box at the Lloyd's Bank...

in Marylebone.

We believe that's were
the photos are located.

Seems straightforward enough.

I'll send a team into this bank

and take whatever he's got
in this safe deposit box.

That would have to be sanctioned
at the highest level,

and that's not going to happen.

Do you see our problem?

There can be no connection to 5 or 6.

So you want me to come up with something

devoid any accountability for anyone.

We'd welcome suggestions, Tim.

And if it all goes pear-shaped (wrong),
I assume it's my arse on the line?

You're young and ambitions, Tim.
A chance to make a name for yourself.

Thank you, Sir.

Excuse me, madam, miss.
Can I have a word?

Yes.

- Where have you been?
- Morocco.

- I'll have to check your underwear.
- Be my guest.

- We found what we're looking for.
- Found what?

What were you looking for?

Oh Tim, thank God!

I'm in a spot of bother.
(I've got problems)

- What have you been up to?
- Nothing much. You?

I was in Morocco recently.

- Business or pleasure?
- Bit of both.

Drinks are on me.

So, we're gonna sit here all night,
making small-talk?

I know you, Terry,
and I know your mates (friends).

You've always been looking for
the big score,

the one that makes sense of everything.

- I have it for you.
- What?

- A bank.
- A bank...as in robber?

What would you know about a bank?

I've been seeing this guy
who runs his own business.

Security systems.

Next month, they're installing
new alarms in a bank at Marylebone.

Seems like the trains have been...

setting off the trembler
alarms in the vault

and they've had to turn them off.

So for a week or so,
they won't have any.

Now why would he tell you all this?

We were having a laugh about it.

Imagine if half the villains in
in London knew about this, he said.

And I thought, I know half
the villains in London.

I grew up with some of them.

Look, me and my mates have been
involved in the odd bit of

skullduggery (criminal acts).

Can you see us tooled up,

taking on a bank like
the (Jesse) James gang?

This isn't about waving a
waterpistol at a cashier's head.

This is about getting into the basement
where the deposit boxes are.

Hidden, secret wealth.
Money and jewels, they're safe to steal,

- 'cause people won't report it.
- Oh, no no no.

You can't talk about this here.

It's a once-in-a-lifetime
opportunity, Terry.

We can't pass it up.

I didn't expect this
from you tonight, Martine.

What did you expect?

I'll have to think about it.

You better get off to your stag party.

Thanks for the drink.

Eddie tells me his brother invited you
to the wedding.

- Are you going?
- I'll see you there.

Can I get a Campari and Soda, no ice?
- Yes, sir.

Thank you.

Well, Tim sweety,
what do you think?

- Is he offering?
- Maybe.

Cheers, gorgeous.

- So you're coming in?
- I don't know, it's late.

Do you need to run home
like a good little boy?

I guess I've got time.

- What exactly do you do?
- Bit of this, bit of that.

How did you and Hakim meet?

I met Hakim in Los Angeles
last spring.

He was rasing money for a black
Montessori school

and writing his life's story.

And what an extraordinary
life it has been.

The book is called "From the Dead Level,
Malcolm X and Me."

I've read the manuscript.
Hakim is a poet.

The voice of the black soul.

A friend is throwing a thing next week

to celebrate the launch of
Brother Hakim's book,

and you are all invited.

Hakim, tell us more about your book.

It's about being born black
in America.

Can any of you imagine what it is like
to be born a black man in this world?

Can any of you white women
imagine what it would be like

to bring a black baby into this world?

Good evening, sir.

What, you freakhead? Why are we
even having this conversation?

We're not--

Here's your beer.

We are not bankrobbers.

Maybe that's why we
could get away with it.

It's a bit daunting, isn't it?

You know what scares me more?

Living and dying with
nothing to show for it.

You know how old Mozart was
when he composed his first minuet?

- No.
- Five. Five! A fucking minuet!

And how would you know that fact, Terry?

Because it's tattooed on
that stripper's arse, Kevin.

What the fuck's it matter how I know?

It's a fact and you're
missing the point, Kev.

What I'm trying to say is,

we stop fucking about and stop...

picking the shit from
under our fingernails.

Shtum (quiet), lads.
Coppers at 12 o'clock.

Damn...

What are you two doing here,
personally?

I thought you were way past
being a bagman, Jerry.

Your associate Sonia Bern has raised
prices at that knocking shop of hers.

- £120 quid up from a £100.
- And your point?

A rising tide lifts all ships, mate.

I think we are owed some money.

- Cause even Sonia's can be raided.
- Yeah, you would do that, wouldn't you?

You'd kill the goose that
lays you golden eggs.

Wouldn't that be dumb, would it?

But then again,
everyone knows coppers are dumb.

Now you can do one thing for me.

You stop your collegues from
having their boys night out in my clubs.

They're loud, they're lewd (horny)
and they expect free oral sex.

You know what, that's disgusting.
My, most of them have families.

We'll pass the word along.

Lew, you tell your
greedy little bobbies (cops)...

to find their
perks (extra income) elsewhere.

No one is going to bother me.

My patrons could have a lot of these
wank-cockers cut out of pasture.

Well, I'd say, spread the wealth around
and keep the peace.

Five quid a week extra.

- It's all it's worth.
- I'll pass it on.

- Drysdale.
- Urquhart.

Lord Drysdale, can I offer you a drink
before your session?

Very kind of you, Sonia.

- Good to see you.
- As well, Urquhart, as well.

Good girl.

Tighter!
Yes, that's a good girl.

- Everything okay?
- Yeah.

Louder.

Louder!

Come on.

We want a kiss,
what's wrong with you?

- I just can't.
- Come on...

Give her a snogging (kiss), babe.

Hello.

So you were in a magazine the other day?

The Campari ad on the beach.
Nice.

Must have been an old one,
I'm not modeling any more.

I don't know why.
You're still a knockout.

- What are you doing these days, Dave?
- Me?

A bit of film work.
Extra, you know.

And you, Kevin?
You're still snapping, I see.

The wedding photos?

No no, these are just
photos for the family.

Fashion is my game.
Fashion and passports.

- And the odd snap of a wayward husband.
- Thank you, Dave.

So, what's the verdict, boys?

We're interested.

First thing we should do
is take a look at the place,

suss (check) it out.

- Maybe open a box of our own.
- I've already done that.

We can go and have a look tomorrow.

Tomorrow it is.

Heads up, lads.

- She's adorable, your little one.
- She is off.

And what a gorgeous flower girl
your eldest made.

Thanks. Catherine.

I do envy you.

- Kev, you want to dance?
- Yeah, come on.

It was lovely to see you all.

- Ciao.
- Ciao.

- All right, mate.
- All right.

She envies me...
She's being sarcastic?

I suppose what she meant was,
money can't by what we have.

Didn't you use to go out with her?

No love, that was Kevin.

He had this big thing for her.

- And you didn't?
- No.

I love me and you,
love at first sight.

Oh yeah...

I remember that night, you were
with your mate Audrey at that disco.

I saw this gorgeous little bum
in a pencil skirt

and I thought:
"Oh, I've gotta have that."

But Audrey surely already had blows,
so I pulled you.

Cheeky sod.

Daddy, daddy, come and dance with me.
Come on, dad.

Hands off me.

Good morning.

I'd like to access my
safe deposit box, please.

- Martine Love. L-O-V-E.
- Certainly, madam.

- You're an actor, right?
- That's right.

I did a couple of films
for you, Mr. Vogel.

Yeah, right.

So what are these films you're in?

Forget about it.

Go on.

Technically, it's what you'd call...

pornography.

- You're joking?
- No.

So you've been going around town with a

12 inch mutton dagger
hanging down your pants?

That's nothing to be ashamed of.

Nice.

Fake.

For the posh party at the weekend.

This is the one.
The lease is available.

Finally.

- How do I look? Good?
- Not your best, Dave.

Here we go.

So how come you've got the inside
note on this place, Martine?

She knows this bloke,
runs a security company.

Bloke? Is it serious?
Are you getting married?

He is married.
All the best ones are.

Here we go.

Marylebone Road and Baker Street,
on the corner here is the bank,

next door is the Chicken Inn,
and at 189, Le Sac.

In the back is an underground
car park

with direct access to
the shops' basements.

We can pull in here from
Glentworth Street...

into the car park

for dropoffs and pickups
without being seen from the street.

We'll dig a tunnel from the basement
of the shop

under the Chicken Inn and pop up
in the safe deposit vault.

I've got a question.

What do ourselves know
about digging tunnels?

Nothing.

But I know a man who does.

- So what do you reckon, Bambas?
- What do I reckon?

I reckon I know you guys,
but I don't know her.

Don't worry about Martine,
she's solid.

We go way back.

Terry, you have been up to
some mischief in your time

but this, this is serious shit,
my friend.

Don't you think it's a little
out of your league?

Maybe it's time to step up
to the first division.

There's going to be reinforced concrete
under the vault.

We're going to need a thermic lance,
a jackhammer, a generator,

lights, ropes, cables, the works.

It's about 40 feet (13m) of digging
before we're under the bank.

We can hire some Micks (Irishmen) from
Camden Town to do the digging

That's brilliant, Dave.

Why don't we just pay their
national ensurance contributions?

And then you have to get on
your Tommy Nutter suit.

- This way, Michael. One more shot.
- This way.

Thank you, that was great.

- What are your plans?
- I am returning to Trinidad...

to liberate my brothers and sisters

from the enslavement of
the British colonialists.

What about the charges you are facing?
How can you leave England?

They are liars and cowards.

If they had anything against me
but their fear of me,

I'd be tried and jailed.

See you later, Bambas.

But we gonna need a front man
on this,

someone who can sign the lease on
the shop and looks the business.

I know someone, Guy Singer.
Calls himself "The Major".

But that's a lot of bollocks,

He has got this white posh accent
if anyone comes nosing about.

A bit tight under the
arms, dont you think?

Traditional fit, sir.

One can't raise ones
arms above one's head.

It tends to inhibit any
impulsive acts of surrender.

I'll be right back, sir.

What on earth are you doing here?

Got a bit of business for you here, Guy.
You'll be tempted.

Sit down, luv.

What do you think you're doing?

Taking the E (Jaguar E-Type)
for a test drive.

Tell your boss, he can
have his inventory back

when he settles Mr. Jessul's debt.

And it'd better be soon

or we'll be back to tap
through his kneecaps.

If I was you two,
I was looking for another job.

Lovely.

- Cheers.
- Cheers.

So, come on then, what don't I know?
Romantic dinner on a Monday night?

Look honey,

I'm going to be working some strange
hours over the next week or two, so...

don't ask me what I'm doing,
because I don't want to lie to you.

What are you doing?

Look...

All llife I've caused us a few problems
with all these cars aren't selling

All I was trying to do
is get ahead of the game.

- This thing's gonna put us there.
- Wicked.

- Yeah.
- Yeah.

And a better place.

It's for all of us.

For you and the kids.

And how afraid do I have to be, Terry?

It'd be the best smart thing if you
wanted to stay with your aunt,

in case things turn out cursed, that is.

So, we are settled. 25% to run
my girls till I return from Trinidad.

It's all right,
you don't have to worry.

I'll look after your little flock
of birds like they were my own.

As long as you remember
they are not your own.

Lew, while I'm back in Trinidad,

I can arrange for shipment of some
high grade gunja (weed, marihuana).

Not interested.

You want my opinion?

All these drugs are responsible for...

the moral decay of
this countries' young.

Smut, smut and more smut.
(pornography, dirt)

That's my special area of interest.

You should think about it.

With these goodies you can make
a lot of dough (money),

especially the police in your pocket.

I am paying enough pung as it is,
(weed, here: money)

but probably not as much
as you're donating

to be permitted to leave our
fair shores (the country).

Not a shilling! I have something
so special, I don't need to pay anyone.

And what would that be, Michael?

Sorry, Lew.

Well.

Whatever it is, you can't be buggered.
I hope you're keeping it safe.

Yes, as safe as it can be.
In a place that you recommended.

transcript by r o g a r d

- You're late.
- Sorry.

This is the Major.
Major Guy Singer.

Final member of our team.

I don't know this man.
Who are you?

None of your business.

No secrets around here.
The Major is a con artist.

Usually elderly widows.

There's no need to bring that up.

Now he's the official
new owner of Le Sac.

Handbags and leather accesories
for the discerning lady.

Nice.

I told the district planner's
office about the remodelling.

They gave me the specs for the
sewage, drainage, gas and power lines.

Lifted our take
to miss that lot (a pipe).

What's this for?

That is the thermic lance.
It cuts through concrete and metal.

We're doing this, right?
I mean, we're bloody going for it.

Let's see what this thing can do.

Good idea, Kev.
Give us a demonstration, Bambas.

Ok, hold this.
Hold it. Here.

Kevin, go stand over there
by the oxygene.

Here we go.

Turn it off!

Off! Off! Off!

Not good.

They know what they're doing,
these people, do they?

Absolutely.
Professional criminals.

What's the worst case scenario?

They get caught and go to jail.

No possible connection to us.

What about this model you're screwing?

What promises have you made
to keep her in line?

None that can't be broken.

Look, she's already tied
to the bank operation.

If things do go belly up (go wrong)

it'll only take one
cut to sever the knot.

What's Gale Benson up to?

I believe she's working her way
into Michael X's inner sanctum.

Could you sign that book, please?
I've got them finally together.

Daddy!

I am so glad you decided to come.

This is my father, Sir Leonard Plugge.

Always happy to meet Gale's new friends.

Her new name is Halekimga.

It's an anagram
of the letters of our names:

Hakim and Gale.

- And your name is?
- Hakim. Hakim Jamal.

Right.

Excuse me...

Hello, gorgeous.

So, where's the author?

He's over there,
signing his masterpiece.

Why don't you both drop by
the house this weekend

and introduce Mr. Jamal to mother?

Sorry daddy, can't do that.

We're popping (going) on time
for the islands for a while.

- Let me get you a drink.
- Good luck with your book.

- So you've read this book of his?
- You must be joking.

Right.
You're probably undercover,

spying on Black Power's insidious
threat to the British way of life.

Oh, that's very funny.

Tell me, is that little enterprise
still shipshape (going well)?

We're currently on schedule, Tim.

We're taking over the shop
on Friday afternoon.

I know if this stuffs up
I'm in poo poo land.

(I know that I'm in serious trouble
if this goes wrong)

We have a blue Transit van
that's just pulled up.

"Clacy Builders" on the side.

And we have one man entering the shop.

Construction crew, for Le Sac.

I've got a question.

What do we do with all the dirt
we're gonna dig out of the hole?

That's all been worked out, Dave.

We'll dig another hole over there
and put in in that. Over.

If we're to get the job done
before the bank opens on Monday morning,

we better get a wriggle (move) on.

Want to do the honours, Martine?

This is it,
here we go.

Watch your nails, Martine.

Yeah, yeah.

Let's get this store to rock.

- Some racket (noise) there is.
- Bloody hell! What's going on?

Dave, come on, mate.

Dave, you need a break.
I'll take over.

Cheers (thanks), Major.

Heads up!

- Where's Dave?
- No idea.

Where did you get to?

Just checking the door was locked.

Of course it's locked, Dave.
I locked it.

Hang on.
Look what we got here.

This is a copper.

Christ, he's not going in there, is he?

- I'll go.
- Shit! Dave, Dave, get back.

- I only wanted--
- Stop! Hold it down!

Someone is knocking.
Someone is at the door.

Stop, Stop! There's somebody
at the door of the shop.

Bambas!

Bambas!
Hold on!

There's somebody at the door.

- Look, I don't want to go in.
- It's my job.

Coppers.

It's the old bill (police).

Good evening.
You're working late?

Around the clock, officer.
Expanding our storage.

Trying to complete renovations
for the grand reopening--

If you don't mind, sir.

Excuse me?

You use a jackhammer down there?

Yeah. You heard some
complaints, officer?

Yeah, from some of your neighbours.

We'll try to keep it down, all right?

Right.

How the hell did they
talk their way out of that one?

Tim, Quinn here.

We just had a copper
going into the shop.

Not sure why, but he's gone now.

All clear.

We need a lookout,
someone on a roof somewhere.

- We've got the walkie-talkies.
- What about Eddie?

He's a good lad,
we can trust him.

No. Look, we're not cutting
anyone else in.

We won't cut him in on the loot.

We'll give him the car lot.

Hopefully I won't need
that headache anymore.

- My God, not again.
- Get up there, Major.

Cover that up!

It's not the coppers.

- Yes, can I help you?
- Delivery for Dave Shilling.

- And what is it?
- Chicken and chips.

I see...

- Takeaway for Mr. Shilling.
- Thanks.

- You can't be serious.
- I was starving.

Radio is in the bag,
binoculars as well.

There's a pension on the
top floor of this building,

paid for the week.

There's a ladder that'll
get you to the roof.

You're in from Liverpool,
looking for work.

I don't have a Liverpool accent.

Then don't talk to anyone, Eddie.

I'm up on the roof, and...

I've got a good view

of all directions, over.

Are you in position, Nightjar?
Command HQ here. Acknowledge.

Yeah, I'm in position.
I can see the front of the bank,

Marylebone Road,

Baker Street, I can see
everything really well.

All clear on the Western front, Guy.
Over.

- No names, Eddie.
- Sorry, Dave.

Aye, you delinquents.
What have I told you?

No idle chitchat.

Sorry, T--
Over.

Fuckin' hell...

Wakey wakey, gentlemen.

I'll keep an eye on
the shop from here on.

You two go down to Glentworth Street.

Guard the parking garage exit.

Okay.

Nightjar here, there's some fellow
looking through the window.

Hang on.

Wait, hang on. He's going.
He's going.

Yeah, he's gone.
Over.

Roger, Nightjar.
Over and out.

I want to go to the pub,
grab some more smokes.

Do you want anything?

A pack of Seniors.

There you go, sir.

Two packets of Rothmans,

2 Senior Service and 8 bags of crisps.

Okay.

Hello, gorgeous.
Are we still on track?

We had a scare last night.
The cops came round.

Can't you pull rank and make
sure it doesn't happen again?

No, we can't show our hand.
We're invisible, remember?

- I wish I was.
- How about your friend Terry?

Where is he planning to
carve up the proceeds?

Shit.

- A pint of ale, chief.
- What's wrong?

I needed to take a break.

Who's that you've been talking to?

I wasn't.
He was trying to chat me up.

Does happen, you know.

- Right.
- Here you are.

- Cheers. Keep the change.
- Thank you.

Now, what are you doing here?
Are you following me?

No.

- I just wanted a pint.
- Then enjoy it.

- Hello, Gale.
- Where have you been?

You're rather impressed with our
friend Hakim, aren't you?

I know rule #1:
"Don't get emotionally involved"

That doesn't mean I can't
enjoy my work.

You certainly do.

What does your father think of your
consorting with these radicals anyway?

We are not amused.

Of course, if he knew
what I was really up to,

he would have a heart attack.

Here you are.
Credit cards and cash.

If he does have copies of the
photos and negatives there,

they will be hidden.

Find them.
Destroy them.

And then get out.

Michael X thinks he's safe,
tucked away in Trinidad.

That will all change if
we're successful here.

Just remember, Gale:
He's a nasty piece of work.

He's a crazy dope-smoking lunatic
pimp extortionist, that's what he is.

Everything okay, Nightjar?
Anything I need to know?

Yeah, everything's all right, mate.

Listen, what if I want to go
for a pee up here?

I don't know.
Use your imagination.

Stay off the radio unless you
see any old bill (police), all right?

Yeah, all right. If I see any
old bill, I'll let you know.

I'll speak to you in a bit.
Over.

Hey Bambas.

What's all this brickwork?

I don't know,
it wasn't on the plans.

Fuck!

Terry?
Fucking hell!

Terry!
Bambas!

Terry, talk to me!

Terry!

Oh fuck..

Terry, talk to me!

- Are you all right?
- I think so, yeah.

What happened?

The floor just caved in.

Bloody hell, Terry.
Don't do that to me.

- I thought you was a goner (dead).
- Yeah.

Give us a light, Dave.

What's down there?

- It's a pile of skeletons.
- You're joking.

Let's hope they're not the last gang
who tried to take this bank.

Latin.
Roughly translated:

Lamb of God,
forgive us our sins.

- You actually know Latin?
- Catholic school.

The Bleeding Heart sisters
of eternal misery.

Interesting date.
1665.

You all know what year
that was, don't you?

The last time West Ham
won the (F.A.) cup?

It was the great plague of London.

This must be a
burial chamber.

A crypt where they dumped the bodies.

Well, if these poor
bastards had the plague,

then they could be infectious.

I don't think so, Dave.

This crypt goes all
the way under the bank.

It'll put us in the vault quicker.

Well, then we'll gonna do that.

Concrete.

Floor of the vault.

Time to get paid for all our work.

Right.

If we hit the restaurant by mistake,
we'll be knee-deep in fried chicken.

I'll be happy if we don't
hit the sewage.

When are you guys
going to hit the vault?

I'm freezing my tits off up here.
Over.

In the army, soldiers would pull on

their puds (penises) to keep their blood flowing.
How's that?

What regiment were you in,
the Royal Corps of Wankers?

Over.

Yes, we welcome new members.
Roger, over and out.

Emergency operator.
Which service do you require?

- The police, please.
- Putting you through.

Police here.
Can I help you?

Yes.
I'm a HAM radio operator

and I think I may be overhearing
a robbery in progress.

We're in!
Dave, get the ladder.

We're gonna move into the vault
after we take a break.

Later when the fume's cleared out.

You're having a laugh, ain't you?
Let's go in now.

Dave. Nothing's going nowhere.
I can hardly breathe in there.

- Nightjar, are you there? Over.
- Nightjar here, over.

We're in.
Over.

What, in the actual vault?

Yes, in the actual vault. Over.

Great, great.
That's great news. Over.

We're taking a break.
We're knackered (tired).

I need to get some sleep.

Getting a shut-eye (a nap). I want
the fumes cleared out. Over.

Lucky you. My eyes are like
**** stops. Over.

We can smell the money now.
Over.

Look, money may be your god,
but it ain't mine, all right?

I want a warm bath and a cup of tea.
Over.

You'll get your cup of tea.
Just your odd time.

Lucky you.
My eyes are like **** stops.

We can smell the money now.

I rang 4 other police
stations before you,

but nobody took me sriously.

They said it was probably a hoax.

How strong was the signal, Mr. Addey?

I'd say they were within
a 10 mile radius.

There must be a ton of
banks in that area.

And when was the last time
you picked them up?

They've been quiet for about an hour.

What about releasing the tapes
to the radio and TV?

Maybe somebody can recognize the voices?

No, no.

If they hear themselves,
they'll stop transmitting.

No, we should keep listening.

Maybe they'll reveal where they are.

Alfie, you stay here with Mr. Addey.
I am going back to the station.

You call me if you hear anything.

Hi.

You scared the piss out of me.

- What are you doing here?
- I couldn't sleep.

Yeah, I'm a bit tingly
(nervous) myself..

I just had to come and have a look.
Our future is in those boxes.

So, what are you going to do
with your share?

Vanish.
Martine Love will cease to exist.

Why, do you think if you
vanish you'll become someone else?

At least no one will know
who I was.

Why did you pick Kevin and me?
You could have found better thieves.

For old times' sake.

Must be old times
you spent with Kevin,

not me.

Kevin has it in his mind that
we had this passionate affair.

The truth is, it came down

to 4 chinese meals and
a roll in the hay.

And that was a long time ago.

All right,

let's make some money.

Look at this!

Look at all this cash.

Fantastic!

Guys? Gold bars.

Diamonds. Diamonds!

Guys, what's going on?

How would your wife fancy a tiara?

Too bloody right.

Get the gas.
The gas.

Look at it.
Hold it.

- Emerald.
- It's like winning the lottery.

Dave.
Give us a hand with this one.

- What's so special about this box?
- It's my lucky number.

All yours, me lovely.

- There you are.
- Cheers.

Holy shit.
You know who that is?

It's Princess Margaret.

Terry, anything for the
widows and auctions funds?

- Will that do?
- God bless you, you're very generous.

Look, we have to have
some sort of system.

You don't know what you are throwing
or what you are keeping.

Yeah, but we know what money looks like.

We're not throwing that away, are we?

How long does it take
to rob a bank?

We're just about to get
this job done, okay?

More cash.

Have a look at this.

No, nothing.

Still nothing.

Sergeant, what we need is something

that will motivate the
robbers to go on air,

- give away their location.
- Right..

Bait to lure the fish.

No, they are not there,
not transmitting.

They are not there, sir.

Move to the next bank,
unit #2.

We still get nothing, Sarge.

Ok, unit #2, move to the
next location.

My God, the stuff that
some people collect...

What have you got there, Terry?

- '47.
- '47?

Sounds like a good year to me.

Will you pass it round?

Come on, Terry.
Give us some.

Got it.

Catch!

Oi! Yeah...

Here, Major.

Get it down.

Listen fellows, they are onto you.

Listen, they're onto you.
- Fuck.

Coppers are on your doorstep.

Speak to me, Nightjar.

Coppers are on your doorstep.

Listen. Hang on, hang on...
they're not going in,

but they are not going away.
Wait, wait.

Sergeant, we just heard
the thieves' lookout

say that there are police
outside the bank right now.

- Which bank?
- I haven't got a clue.

We've got patrols outside half
the banks in the West End.

Keep listening, we need to
pinpoint exactly where they are.

Wait. Hang on.

Guys, a black car just pulled up
with some bloke.

He's going up to the front door
with the cops.

Gyus, he is unlocking the front door.

They are going in.
Shit! Over.

Oh no.
Shit.

- Where is the vault?
- Downstairs.

Follow me.

Looks fine.

Are you sure everything is all right?
Yes, yes, it is.

- I want to look inside.
- Tell the timelock.

Can't be opened until
tomorrow morning.

Well, it isn't my bank
that's being robbed.

Sorry for calling you
on a Sunday morning, sir.

- Not a problem...
- Thank you.

Fellows, I think they are going away.

They are gone.

We should get out of here.
They could be coming back.

Yeah, right.
We need to let Eddie know.

Nightjar?

Nightjar?

No!

Fuck!

Shit.
Fuck.

Shit. Shit.

Are you there, Nightjar?

The ambulance reports it's outside
the Lloyd's bank on Baker Street.

Nightjar, can you hear me?

You got asleep, Nightjar?

Fucking hell...

Nightjar, are you there?

Look, if he's not picking up,
something is wrong.

You're right.

So, grab all the cash and the jewels

and get the fuck out of here.

What about our gear?

We cant leave anything
that might incriminate us.

We come back for it if we can.

What about all the other boxes?

Doesn't matter, Dave.
Put everything in a bag and lets go!

All right, let's move it.
Come on!

- There's nothing here, Sarge.
- Are you sure?

There's no mention of the ambulance.

Nothing.
Move on, vehicle #2.

- Let's go!
- Finally.

Come on, let's go.

The van is leaving.
We will follow them. Over.

Stop them as soon as possible.

Open the door!

- What have I done, guv'nor (boss)?
- Open the back door, come on.

Some fella paid me 50 quid
to pick up his van

and drop it at Heathrow airport.

Jesus Christ...

- Wher's the van?
- Change of plan.

For cautionary measure.

I've organised alternative transport.

- Why?
- None of us have met your boyfriend.

(*He's all go to include
you on the back) of the job.

Could've set us up.

We bloody well pulled it off.

Done with military
precision, hey, major?

Now that I am fiscally secure,

I think I'll promote
myself to "Colonel".

You know what I am going to do?

I'm going to buy my mom a new house.
Something with a garden.

I thought you would be off
to Kopenhagen, Dave?

- Why would I go to Kopenhagen?
- Heavy cock, sure hunt.

You know what I'll do?
I'll chop off one more

and then I got one like
your little pinkey (penis).

How did you find this place
then, Terry?

A bloke and I used to run a...

chop shop here (stolen
cars sold in parts).

He's in the nick (jail) now.

How could you lose control
of the operation?

I thought you were
on top of this thing.

Sir, it worked.

They did the job.
They robbed the vault.

And we have no idea
where the fuck they are.

You know, an ugly thought
has just occured.

Lots of money in that vault,
juwelry, bonds.

You and your sweetie haven't
cooked up something between you, I hope.

- You think I'd betray you?
- There are precedence.

Two of our former colleagues
now live in bloody Moscow.

Let's hope they don't have
another bidder.

She won't cross us.
She knows what we're capable of.

How does she even know
who the hell we are?

I'm sure she will contact me
when she comes to her senses.

Going anywhere else would be
a death sentence.

You better hope she does, Everett.

Or it may be yours.

Here you go, Bambas.
That's your lot.

"Never washed after our
magic moment. Snowflake."

Hey, Dave.
Look at this.

I've seen this bloke on the TV.
The old perv (pervert).

I have seen this face before.
He's an M.P. (member of parliament).

Lord... whatshisname, you know.
Always wears those poncey bow ties.

Well, on that picture he's not.

I believe this is one
of your old movies, Dave.

Piss off, Kev.

Timely suggestion.

I believe I'll take my share
and be on my way,

before the bank opens in the morning

and the shit hits the
proverbial fan.

I'm with you, Guy.

I don't have to remind you:

Keep a low profile.
No buying Aston Martins, Bambas.

The only thing I'm buying is a
one-way ticket back to Cyprus.

- I'm never coming back.
- We should have a reunion.

- 20 years, the Savoy Grill.
- Yeah, right, maybe for you, Guy.

I still wouldn't let us lot in.

- Bambas.
- Goodbye my friend.

Take care of yourself, mate.

Major.

Be lucky.

Bambas.

Goodbye, old chap.

Okay, what's going on?
You two have been staring

daggers at each other
since we left the bank

What is it?
Lover's tiff (quarrel)?

I think Martine has got
something to tell us.

Hang on, pal.
That's Princess Margaret.

Fuck me...

Where do these come from?

You knew the exact
box this stuff was in, Martine.

You'd better come clean and tell us
what this is really about.

About a month ago I got busted at
Heathrow on a drug charge.

This guy I know said he would fix it
to keep me out of jail,

if I do him a favour.

He knew I knew some villains.

He wanted to set up a robbery
to get these.

Fucking hell!

That would be the bloke
you met in the Player's Club.

Same guy you said was trying
to pick you up in the club, right?

- Yeah.
- Well, so who is he?

He's a guy I met at the Sombrero Club.

He works for some shady outfit
in White Hall.

- Oh no, no. You mean MI fucking 5?
- Or 6?

We could get seriously
nicked here, Martine!

No, we couldn't.

All Tim wants is the contents
of box 118.

The deal with him is,
we get to keep everything else.

And you believe that?

You put your trust in some prick
we've never even met.

You lied to us, Martine!

We were sitting ducks
right from ther start.

Thank you very much.

You think it's a coincidence
that you get busted for drugs

and your Tim just happens to have
a plan to rob a bank?

This can work out.

We give him the photos and
everything else in that box

and we get to keep the rest
and we're free and clear.

These people are regular cozzers
(bad cops), Martine.

They are above that.

They do things coppers can't.

They think we've seen these photos,
we're expendable as dog shit.

You know what?

I've seen our shots
and I don't know...

we're either dog shit
or about to beat dog shit.

I'm out of here.

I'm not waiting for a load of spooks
and coppers to come cracking my head.

I'm splitting like Guy and Bambas.

It would be better if we
stuck together, Dave.

And why, tell me?, 'cause we've been so
truthful with each other so far?

- Dave, come on...
- No, I'm going home, Kev. See my mom.

And then I'm going far away, as far
as I can get away from you.

We'd better get out of here, too.
In case Guy and Bambas get picked up.

Let's split the lot of this.

There may be someone else in this shit
to cause us some more grief.

- One of those, mate.
- Here you go.

- Keep the change.
- Thanks.

- They overheard our radio chat.
- Fuckin' hell...

"Police last night were trying to home in
on a £300.000 bank raid."

They still don't know
what bank it was.

- 300 grand?
- It's a bit more than that...

More like 3 million.

- Hello?
- Martine Love.

Thank God.
Put us through and then run a trace.

It's me.

What happened?
Where the hell are you?

London.

I know, of course.
I mean, where?

I know what you mean.

Martine, we have to meet.

I agree.
Why don't you come over to my place?

I'll make you a cocktail,

and we'll have a roll in the hay
for old times' sake.

Oh, right. You would have
been there, haven't you?

Probably have your men
keeping lookout for me now.

You're not in a position
to play games, Martine.

No threats please, Tim.

Why didn't you tell me what
it was I was set up to get you?

For your own good.

I care about your safety, Martine.

Right.

I suppose I give you what you
want and we go our separate ways.

That's what I promised.

Ok, today. Tottenham Court Road 2.

Northern isle, northbound platform.
10:30 sharp.

Tottenham Court Road, 10:30.
Good.

"London vaults checked after radio HAM
tunes in to a crime."

Christ, what a fiasco!

And now the particular
bank has been identified,

the story will be all over the news.

We've heard it already is.

If we don't get onto the case quickly

the police will have nabbed
these robbers,

and God knows what will happen to
our photographs.

Philip, get over to the bank.

Take control of the situation.

Gentlemen. I've just had
a conversation with one Martine Love.

Where is she?

Call was traced to a public phone box
on Miller's Court.

Good news is,
she's arranged a meet.

That is good news.

- I'll be better off going alone.
- Yeah.

Tim has agreed to meet.

It's all over the news.
They found the location of the bank.

So what?

Keep the change.

I'm sorry, ma'am,
you can't go in.

There's been a robbery.

We know there's been a robbery,
that's why we're all here.

Everybody that works here.
I need everybody. Speak to him.

Gerald?

You work in robbery now then?

You're a long way off your patch.

Regional crime squad now.

Just went by to see
what all the fuss is about.

Pretty cheeky, that radio bit.

These walkie-talkie robbers
certainly caught your lot on the hop.

Makes us all look stupid.

Yeah, well...

You're pretty chummy with all
the villains around town.

You got any idea who
could have done this?

None of my informers.

We have been waiting here
quite some time,

and so far you people have
told us absolutely nothing.

If you would like to give us an
itemized list

of the content of your boxes,
we may be able to ascertain...

- Are you mad?
- ...what's missing.

The whole point in having
a safe deposit box

is so that people like you
don't know what's in it!

I want to speak to a Roy Given.

Yeah, that's me.

This robbery is now a matter of
national security.

I want everybody out.

This is a police investigation.

Not anymore.
Call your superiors.

Who the bloody hell does he think he is?

Spooks (agents). MI-5 or 6,
I can never tell the difference.

They all got the same tailor

and they all went to
the same bloody school.

Let's get some copies of the...

walkie-talkie tapes
out to the news boys.

Maybe the public can help
identify the villains.

So tell me... Which of the boxes
were ransacked?

The lot.
100s through to 400s.

Oh, we're in a crapper, Jerry.
Both of us.

Both?
Now, why is it my problem?

Accounts have to be balanced
records kept.

And I wouldn't likely keep the books
around here, now would I?

Spell it out, Lew.
Be more specific.

I have a ledger,

a record of every payment

I've ever made to you
and your colleagues.

It was in my safety deposit box,

and I think we can safely assume...

it's now in the possession
of the robbers.

Jesus wept.

And I think you'll agree

we have to find those villains
before your honest colleagues do.

For fuck's sake.

Who is this?

Lew Vogel.

Hold on.
Get up.

Come on, wake up.

What do you want, Lew?

I'm afraid I've got some
potentially bad news for you, Michael.

Your safety deposit box at
the Baker Street bank...

what's its number?

Why do you ask?

Well, because some thieves broke into
the bank vault and robbed it.

So if your box is in the
100 to 400 numbers,

I'm afraid all your stuff
will be gone.

Mine too, unhappily.

What? How can this happen in London?

Well, I promise you it has happened.

I promise you these thieves will be
found and dealt with.

You can rely on it.
I'll keep you informed.

Thank you.

No-one touches me, follows me
or Martine takes your stuff...

right to Fleet Street, understood?

You want box 118, Tim.

You have no idea of the danger
you and your chums are in, do you?

Is that right?
And what would that be?

You've opened Pandora's box,
you dumb prick, that's why.

I know what's at stake.

And I know how expendable we are.

Some change in the deal.

- Oh, is that right?
- Yeah...

You'll get all your nasty pictures,
but here's the twist:

We'll get indemnity, fresh passports,
safe passage out of the country.

For the whole team.

And an officially signed document

guaranteeing we won't be prosecuted
and we won't be pursued.

You can't be serious?

You can bet your bollocks I'm serious.

I want it signed and delivered
by a public figure

of substantial authority.

How about the Prime Minister?

Yeah, he'll do, if you
can drag him off his yacht.

You mess with us, Tim...

We can drip-feed pictures like this
to the press.

We've got a stack of 'em.

Oh, do you?

You've got until 4pm to confirm
that we have a deal.

We'll be in touch.

Some photographs.

Well done, Tim!

Do you have any more?

Apparently there is a whole rose gallery
stored in one of those boxes.

If Lord Drysdale is up to his usual
hanky-panky (strange sex life),

that's his problem.

This operation is about recovering
the photos from Michael X.

Might it not be prudent
to get the committee

to consider issuing a "D notice"?

(defence notice to
protect national secrets)

To protect everyone potentially

embarrassed by this
criminal activity.

...Which we instigated.

Very nice.
Very nice indeed.

When I came out there were a
couple of lads taking some photos.

Buddies of him.

He was standing right outside the bank
just a few days before it was robbed.

I thought at the time
he looked a bit shifty.

Christ, is that thing real?

I've got it.

Dave Shilling.
That's his name.

Tada (take care), mom.

Look after yourself, son.

Go, get yourself inside.
You'll catch your death.

- Dave Shilling?
- Yeah?

I wonder if we could have a word.

- About what?
- About a bank.

I want to tell you something,
Mr. Shilling,

because it will save time.

You see,

I have a very jaundiced (bitter)
view of life.

From what I see, most of it
is corrupt, venal and vile.

And I am just saying this
so that you know

that I don't have a
better nature to appeal to,

or a compassionate streak.
I mean, you do understand, don't you?

I think so, Mr. Vogel.

Good.

I have a kidney stone,

that does not seem to be able
to pass without painkillers.

I could use a couple of those myself.

You stole from me

and from friends of mine.

- Where is my stuff?
- I don't know.

Look, I don't know anything about
any bank robbery. Honest.

You're still an unconvincing actor,
Mr. Shilling.

I would love to say
this is not going to hurt,

but it is.

What are you going to do?

Please, no!
No.

Stop. Please.

No.

- Well, they were here.
- What are you gonna do?

Why is the door open?

Who are you?

I could ask the same thing.

You better run along, eh?

transcript by r o g a r d

Get yourselves a
cup of tea or something.

We are looking for Terry Leather.

Terry said he would not
be coming in this week.

He is supposed to call in.

- So you would be Eddie, right?
- Uh, yeah?

Well, you're coming with me!

What are you doing?
Leave him alone!

What are you going
to do with my Eddie?

- Just relax.
- Leave her alone!

We want to talk to him
about a bank robbery.

Don't you touch her!

If you want to see your Eddie
or his mate Dave again,

make sure Terry Leather
calls that number.

Walkie-talkie gang
takes it all.

Read all about it.

Walkie-talkie gang
takes it all...

- That's great news. Over.
- We're taking a break.

We need to get some sleep.

Getting a shut-eye. I want
the fumes cleared out. Over.

Lucky you.
My eyes are like...

Mommy? Daddy is on the radio.

Don't be so silly, darling.

He is!

Is he?

I want a warm bath and a cup of tea.
Over.

You'll get your cup of tea.
Just your odd time. Over.

See?
It is daddy.

Authorities have released this
recording of the walkie-talkie

communications between the robbers
of Lloyd´s Bank in Marylebone

in the hopes that their voices

may be identified by members
of the public...

Hello?

Wendy?

We heard you on the radio, Terry.
You are famous, you know?

You robbed that bank, didn't you?
The one on the news.

Oh God, you could go to jail for years
for something like that, Terry.

I couldn't stand it.

No one is going to jail.

I've got everyone under control.

Just stay put.
Keep the kids inside.

I love you, Wendy.

I gotta go.

You be careful, Terry.

What's the matter, mom?

Nothing, darling.

- Terry, they took Eddie.
- Oh God. Who?

They didn't have fleece (uniform) on.
I don't know, they could have been cops.

They left a phone number for you.

They said, if I want to see
Dave or Eddie again,

then you'll have to call.

Listen to me, I swear to you
we'll get them back.

Don't you worry, darling.

Have you got a pen?

Yeah.

- 0-1-9-4-6.
- Hold on, say it again.

0-1-9-4-6.
- Yeah.

Michael?
It's Lew Vogel. Yes.

Well, we've identified the villains.

Believe it or not, they're
amateurs. Part-timers.

They were put up to the job by
a woman named Martine Love.

- Ring a bell?
- Never heard of her.

Well, we paid a visit to her flat,

and some chaps from MI-5
were already there.

Pulled rank on my
tame copper.

Why do you suppose these
people would be interested

in the robbery of a minor
neighbourhood bank, Michael?

- I don't know.
- I think you do.

And I'm guessing that
your box is number 118?

I think what these robbers were
really after were photographs.

Photographs of a certain Royal Princess.

How do you know that?

Because on this point,
I believe my captive.

No man could withstand the pain
we inflicted on him.

So don't take me for a fool, Michael!

You've instigated this calamity

by storing your blackmail
materials in this bank.

Which you recommended.

I will not be lectured by the
porn king of Soho.

Get my pictures back,

or you will never see a black man
on the streets of London

without wondering if he's been sent
to kill you!

What are you doing?

Oh, hello Michael. Hakim was
looking for a copy of his book.

I know what you've been looking for.

You won't find it.

What are you talking about?

Hakim, I found your book.

You don't understand.

My box and those of my friends

may have been rifled.

Surely you can pull some strings.

You're a minister in the
government, for God's sake!

Sonia, I really don't think
I am able to help here.

Perhaps you don't fully comprehend.

I have photographs,
compromising photographs,

live filmed of you,

Miles Urquhart, all my regulars,

in this safe deposit box.

You all know each other if
that's any consolation.

You've got photographs of me?

You conniving cunt!
(conspiring)

You be a big boy.

Now is the time to talk
to your White Hall chums,

don't you think?

That's him.
Sure that's him.

Guy Arthur Singer,
con man and petty criminal.

Did a stretch in the "Scrubs"
(prison) a few years back.

I thought he was a wanker.
Spoke with some poncey accent.

Thank you, sir, very much.

- Hello?
- Who am I talking to?

Terry Leather, Kevin Swain,
Martine Love, Eddie Burton.

Yeah, Mr. Shilling was kind
enough to speak with me about this.

You put Dave on the phone.

Now, I would, but...

he seems a bit indisposed
at the moment.

What do you want?

Just a couple of things
from what you've stolen.

A ledger with a dark red cover.

And some photos

that I'm sure the MI-5
is interested in.

The "Royal portfolio".

All we got is money and jewels.

Then I suggest you look again.

Speak to your friends.

- Hello, who is this?
- Eddie, it's Terry.

Terry...

Terry, fucking hell.

Dave is all messed up,

and they're going to do the same
to me, you got to help.

Listen to me, Eddie.

I don't have what he wants.

No? No, you've got to have what
they want, you've got to.

You've got to help.

Eddie, what am I supposed to do?
You tell him, we don't have it!

- No, Terry. Terry, you gotta--
- Eddie,

Tell him I don't have
his fucking ledger!

You tell that cunt now!

He doesn't have it...

Right.

Wait...

No! No!

No! They shot Dave!

- Eddie?
- Dave is dead.

- Eddie!
- They shot him, Terry...

I'll give you one hour
to find what I want,

or I'll kill this man.
Tick...

This is it.

Lew Vogel.

That's what this bastard is.

"Payments made to Soho and
West End division officers"

There are weekly payouts.
50 quid here, 20 there.

Probably every bad copper in London.

Nothing like this was
supposed to happen.

No one was supposed to get hurt.

It's not your fault,
right?

We still got our own exit to think about,
and Eddie.

If we give the photos to Vogel,
all bets are off with Tim.

If we deliver it to Tim,
it's Eddie's neck

and Vogel is still after us.

Either way we are fucked.

Miles, we've got a problem,

a serious problem.

Something Sonia Bern
kept in the bank

that was robbed
over the weekend.

She is concerned that her
safe deposit box

may have been plundered.

I'm afraid her fears
are well justified.

Oh my God.

I really thought Sonia was a
woman of more discreet character.

So...
The genie is out of the bottle then.

- For both of us, ey?
- Not quite yet.

My operatives tell me
that the thieves

are using the photographs
as a bargaining chip.

- Then give them what they want.
- Already in motion.

And the committee having
done the works

to issue a "D-notice"
on the whole business.

To muffle (silence) the press.
Put a lid on it.

Big pity, wouldn't it?

Well, if your mates abandoned you
over a few photographs.

Hello.

You listen to me, Mr."Vogel" or
whatever your fucking name is.

You go ahead and kill him,
we don't give a shit.

We got our loot.

Your ledgers and your photos,

you can pick them up
from Scotland Yard.

We're sending them over.

Don't do that.

Well, if you want your book
of payoffs back,

be at Paddington Station in
person tomorrow 11 am, platform 1.

There's a newsstand near
the statue of the soldier.

Have Eddie with you,
hale and hearty.

This is your one and
only chance, Vogel.

Don't blow it.

Don't answer it!
Catherine!

- Daddy!
- How are you?

Come here.

Here.
Look, I got you a present.

- You been good for mommy?
- Yeah.

I need to talk to mommy about something,

so give us a minute, okay?

- Go on.
- Good girls.

So.. you want to tell me
what's been going on?

- Some blokes were tough at Dave.
- How bad?

He's dead.

Oh my God Almighty, Terry.

What have you done to us?

Wendy, I promise,
I'm gonna work this out.

And when I do,
we're going to leave England.

and it's all going
to change for us.

But if anything goes wrong, use this.

There is plenty of cash.
Pounds, francs, dollars.

You're going to leave the country,

start a new life for you and the girls.

You can do this if you have to,
Wendy. Promise me.

Is that from the robbery, is it?

My share, yeah.

The papers said there was a woman
in the vault.

Martine, so was she involved?

Yeah. She brought us the job
in the first place.

Oh, and did you sleep
with her, Terry?

I did know that from day one.
It was the way she looked.

The first day we met
I said to my friend Audrey, I said:

"I am gonna marry him.
And I am gonna have his kids."

And I have stood by you and I will
stand by you no matter what!

You bastard!!

Fuck...

You can firm me over.
(yell at me)

I deserve it.

I brought you more
grief than happiness,

but I love you.
And the kids.

So the reason I did this was to get
us out of this life once and for all.

Mommy, open the door.

Mommy, mommy!

- We have the rest of our lives,
- Go play in your room!

...if you'll still have me.

She takes a good picture, eh, Tim?

Lord Mountbatten has graciously
agreed to represent

the interest of the crown
in this matter.

- Is he high enough up the tree?
- Lord Mountbatten.

I always wanted to meet that bugger.

Yes. I am not sure he will be
very pleased to meet you, too.

He has to be under the main clock
Paddington Station, 11 am, or no deal.

11 am, on the knock,

and with your new
passports and documents.

He's gonna hand them over
as soon as he sees the photos.

There's another problem.

This robbery's pissed off
some local villains.

The guts come with the glory, eh?

One of our mates has been killed.

That's hardly surprising considering
the roster of reprobates

that are the banks'
deposit box customers.

Listen, Terry.
Our committment is for...

the recovery of the
royal...portraits only.

The proceeds and the piss-offs
are both yours to deal with.

11 am, Paddington Station.

Gale.

Michael wants to see you
in the garden.

- What for?
- I don't know.

Gale, come.
Come and look at this.

Come.

- I want to show you something.
- What's this for?

It's for you.

What have I done to deserve this?
What have I done?

You're a spy, sent to steal
from me.

And nobody steals from Michael X.
No-one!

See if it mentions the copper in charge.

Here it is.

"Heading the case is
Detective Sergeant

"Roy Given of Marylebone Lane
police station."

Roy Given?

No Roy Given menioned.

Let's hope that means
he's straight.

And that he'd be interested in the
names of some bent coppers.

Yeah, a bit of a long shot.

Fuck it...

- Nothing in that one?
- No.

Well, we don't rate a mention.
Strike you as strange?

It's kind of scary actually.

If that news could disappear,
so could we.

Next stop: Edgware Road.

Well...

Here's to us.

See you, mate.

Look after yourself.
Take care.

Good luck, Kev.

So where are you headed?
If everything goes to plan?

I'll tell you,
if you're coming with me.

Good morning.
I'm looking for a mister Roy Given.

It's very important.

- Roy Given?
- Yeah.

Can I ask
what it's concerning?

No, I prefer to tell him myself.

Look, all I'm saying is,
if you're interested

in the rest of
this book of payoffs,

the author's gonna be
at Paddington Station

11 am, platform one.

And how exactly did this come
into your possession?

Next stop: Paddington Station.
Change here for the Bakerloo line.

Let's hope now he turns up
fashionably late.

- There's your friend, Tim.
- Good luck.

It's good to see you in one piece.

You were worried for your own arse,
Tim, not for mine.

You're a prick, Tim.

You set this whole thing up
from the start, didn't you?

Come on, you get to be
rich, free and clear.

Isn't that what you wanted?

- You stay here with the car.
- Right.

Bloody kidney stone.
It's gotta go out soon.

I haven't had this much excitement
since the war.

We're a little late, Mylord.

So where is your mate?

There, sir, that one at the newsstand.

Wait. I've seen those two cowboys
before at the girl's flat.

- It's a trap, they're MI-5.
- Terry.

Terry.

- Lord Mountbatten?
- Yes?

You know the arrangements
and you agree to our new identities

and immunity from
prosecution?

You have my word that the crown
will honour this committment.

Your documentation and
guarantees

If I were you, I'd keep
them in a very safe place.

Yeah, well, you bet it won't
be a safe deposit box.

She is a scallywag (rogue).
Thank you.

Martine.

It wasn't all business for me.

- What happened, where's the book?
- Just open the door.

- No!
Get in there.

Stay there,
or you're dead meat!

Where are you going, old man, eh?

No!

- This one's for Dave.
- No...

You fucker!

Not so fucking smug now, are you?

Oi, you punk!

- Eddie, get out.
- That's the one that killed Dave.

Get your hands off me!

Arrest them,
they are bank robbers.

- Fuck!
- This bloke killed our friend!

- Shit.
- No, no, listen...

So, are we seriously
arseholed now, Terry?

Well, at least we're not dead
like poor old Dave.

Get up, you filthy bastard.

You're under arrest.
Take him away.

All right. Come on, you.

Get in the car.

It's all right, mate.

I wonder if that's Roy Given?

Who's he?

I was hoping he was a straight copper.

We've got a nice
collar (catch) here, Roy.

You know, these two are part of
the Baker Street bank robbery gang.

- Place this man under arrest.
- Yes, sir.

What are you talking about?
They're part of the Baker Street Firm.

I don't know about that.

But I know all about you,
you corrupt bastard.

Cuff him.
The one over by the wall as well.

But they are the robbers!

No robbers in here.

Watch your head.

Now...

I believe you've a certain
Mr. Vogel's book of shame.

Well, if you let me out,
I'll go get it for you.

That belongs to me.

Here's your book.

Terry. We were thinking,
a smart fella like you

might have kept mementos
of the event, just in case.

Case what?
Things didn't turn out so nicely?

If they should ever see the light of day

don't think we can't find you.

Out.
Go on, piss off.

Aren't you gone?

- How did that happen?
- Fucked if I know, just keep walking.

Michael, Michael!

What's going on?
What do you want in my place?

What do you want?

- We are placing you under arrest.
- What am I charged with?

Conspiracy to import drugs into
the United Kingdom, will that do?

But you could still help yourself.

There's a British national staying
with you, a certain Gale Benson.

She was here, but she's gone on.

- All right.
- Get in the back!

Over here, sir.

Burn the house down.

I want nothing of this place
left standing.

- Were you friends of Dave?
- Oh yeah.

- Really?

We knew him in a professional capacity.

He was one of our favourites.

See you later.

- Are you all right?
- Yeah.

So where are you off to, Kevin?

Anywhere you want to go.

Sorry, I'm doing a solo
from now on.

Yeah, well.

It was worth a try.

Do you want another one?

Yeah, go on.
One for the road.

Tummy (cheers).

I just wish Dave could have
seen all this.

Yeah...
Here's to Dave.

To Dave.

What do you want, Martine?

I'm sorry I've caused you
this upset, Wendy.

Well, apparently we're rich.

I know the business is finished,
but are the cars really ours?

Yeah.

They are all yours.

Jessul has been paid off.

I won't lie to you...

I would have gone with him,

and I would have shut
you out of my mind,

but he didn't want to know.

I'm sorry.

- Your wife is talking to Martine.
- I know, Kev.

I know...

Good luck.

It was always you, Terry.

Daddy!

Hey!

Oh my God, Terry,
that's a big one.

Lash a few chips on that,
all right?

- Black...
- Don't, mom!

- Fish fingers tonight, aye?
- What a pretty boy...