All language subtitles for Sweeney.1977.

(marching percussion music)

(background chatter)
(upbeat percussion music)

The traffic's terrible,
it's this conference.

The whole of London's blocked.

Yes, well you're here now, come on.

- Am I dressed okay?
- You look super. (chuckles)

- Right, take care of her.
- Of course.

Oh, this brings back memories.

- Me too.
- Drink?

That's what it's for, party time.

- Whoopee!
- Same old poison?

[Woman] As always, aren't
you clever to remember.

[Man] Well, you always
could stick it away.

Clear?

Right, so let's have a voice test, yeah?

Voice test?

(marching percussion music)

(paparazzi talk over each other)

(laughs) Oh, I'm sorry.

It's just, I can't read your
writing, shall I start again?

Yeah, sure, no problem.

(paparazzi talk over each other)

This is Janice Wyatt, I want
to speak to Charles Baker.

This is Janice Wyatt, I insist
on talking to Charles Baker.

Charles, Nigel, you got my message?

Elliott, I'm speaking
last after Morocco.

- Right.
- Will he be long?

[Elliot] Exactly 18 minutes.

It's the same damn speech
he made in (chuckles) 1978.

We're going for a high oil price.

Hey, you won, you finally made it?

The Cabinet's been up all
night, I threatened to resign.

You should've seen the PM's face.

It's all in my opening speech.
- Uh-huh.

I've taken something and
I think I'm going to sleep.

I'm in room 847.

Are you sure that's alright, I mean,

I could give it more
desperation, if you wanted.

No, no, that's fine, really.
(telephone rings)

Good.

Eight four seven.

Right, well that's it.

I don't think we need detain
you any longer, Janice.

(delegates applaud)

(chairman speaks in foreign language)

(Janice screams)

(man chuckles)
(suspenseful music)

Johnson.

Yes on that item.

(chairman speaks in foreign language)

It's a personal call for you, sir.

I don't know how it
came through here, but...

- Who is it?
- It's a lady, sir.

Janice Wyatt.
- I can't speak to anyone now.

She's very insistent,
she won't stop talking.

What's wrong?

Someone's come through on the hot line.

A Miss Janice Wyatt?

(sighs) Okay, I'll handle it.

(chairman speaks foreign language)

McQueen.

Janice, this is Elliott.

Janice, this line is reserved,
how the hell did you get...

(delegates applaud)

Now, the conference calls
on the Secretary of State for

Energy of our host and newest
member, the United Kingdom.

(delegates applaud)

Your Royal Highness, Excellency.

You're where?

Hotel?

Huh?
- I'm in room 847.

Eight four seven.

And it's not only in Britain's interest.

If we are to help the poor
nations as well as ourselves,

we must have the means to do it.

And that involves the
raising of the price of oil.

(delegates applaud)

This is the one.

(knocks)

Charles, come in.

Would you wait here,
please, Sergeant, um...

- Price.
- Price.

Thank god you're here.
- Elliott.

With no explanation at all...
- Quiet.

With no explanation at all,

you have dragged half across London!

I couldn't explain to anyone, Charles.

In here.

[Charles] Oh, Christ Almighty.

Oh, Jesus.
- Leave her, Charles.

There's no pulse, she's dead.

(sighs) I came over right after her call.

There's, uh, there's a note here.

It's addressed to you.

I've touched nothing and neither must you.

It says, "My darling, your
career is finally taking off.

"I understand how that can only be shared

"by your wife and children.

"I hope I don't weaken
and call you at the end.

"I love you, Janice."
- Well, she finally did it.

She ruined my marriage and now,
now she's wrecked my career.

I'm finished.
- No!

No, not necessarily.

I may be able to help.
- You're a press agent.

Elliott, you can't handle this.

Yeah, but, but I know people who could.

Trust me?

(upbeat funk music)

(groans) Oh, god.

You alright, lovely?

Oh, Christ, I'm stiff.

I hurt all over.

It's so cold.

I know exactly what you mean.

What's that noise?

That is my bloody alarm clock.

Can't you turn it off?

I think I can manage that, just.

(woman coughs)

(woman groans)

[Reporter] For the first time in London,

delegates from all the
major oil-producing...

[George] Oi.

Oi!

You sleep alright?

Yeah.

Yeah.

Yeah, it's comfortable bed.

[George] Oh, is it?

I'll have to try it sometime.

It's also 8:30.

(Jack groans)

George, it's half-past eight!

I'll see you outside in the car.

Bloody hell.

Do you mean that that squad car

that's waiting outside your
flat to pick you up first

and then come here to
pick me up isn't ours?

Fine, but why didn't
you change the call?

Why did you have to get so pissed

you couldn't make it back to your gaff?

- Shh!
- And nick my bed!

I'd have slept in here.

You pulled rank to get that bed!

- Crap!
- That's right!

George, I've got Ronnie
Brent ringing me at nine, no?

Just 'cause you blew it
with her friend, you had to

come here and spoil my
little scene, didn't you, eh?

What, her?

She fancied me.

- She fan...
- Yeah.

Oh dear, oh lor...

Sally.

Oi, Sally, love.
- Mm?

Listen, it's 8:30 and
we've gotta go, alright?

But you can use the bed now, okay?

Holy Christ Almighty!

I'm on the early Concorde to Bahrain!

There you are, I told you I could do it.

Right, George, what's the urgency?

We've gotta get to the Yard.

Oh, this is my guvnor, Mr. Regan.

Right, sir, well traffic
round Westminster's

all blocked up, no chance,
you'll have to take a tube.

Oh, great, what am I gonna do?

Here, Pete, come here, come
here, a big favour, right?

- Yeah?
- Now, listen.

You've just had a tip-off
about a lot of stolen vehicles

at Heathrow Airport, right?
- I have?

Yeah, course you have!

Hey, hey, this'll cost you, George.

- Yeah, alright, alright.
- Alright, sir!

Yeah.

Thanks, Jack, you saved my life.

[Pete] Come on, love, you'll
have to lie down in the back.

Keep flat, right out of sight, alright?

Well, you can pay for
the bleedin' tube, then.

Daniels, DS, four seven six two.

Mornin', sir, Detective
Constable Burtonshaw.

Burtonshaw, DC, four seven eight three.

Left-hander.
- Thank you, sir.

Left-hander, sign of
an artistic temperament.

- Burtonshaw!
- Bet you're a Sagittarian.

- No, a Methodist.
- Daniels!

How we doing for time?

Badly.

- Ronnie'll wait, won't he?
- He better.

(lively chatter and laughter)

So, where's the DI then?

Even money, pissed as a puddin'!

(lively chatter and laughter)

- Hello, Guvnor.
- Afternoon, Guvnor.

Shut it!

Someone get us a cup of coffee.

DI Regan, any messages?

[Burtonshaw] So what's
it all about then, Guvnor?

[Daniels] What's the code word, Guv?

Leave it out, you noisy lot of sods.

What?

Where was he?

Well, you should've bloody well asked him!

Right.

There's seven of 'em, but one's
gonna be a bit of a handful.

A big bastard with a ring in his ear.

- Big Tiny.
- What, the gypo?

When they had him down
Wood Green Nick, he wouldn't

come out his cell, so they
sent this big Alsatian in.

Do you know he bust its jaw
and threw the bastard out?

Yeah, I saw the film, Dog Day Afternoon.

The code word is, uh...

Air Screw.
- What's that mean, Guvnor?

Right, it's wages, a lot of wages.

I'll know where in a minute.
(telephone rings)

Regan.
- It's Ronnie, you're late.

- How'd you get on last night?
- Terrific.

That's not funny.
- Anyway, listen, it's on.

10:30, the Fulham Works, like I said.

Yes, thanks, Ronnie.

Good luck.

(suspenseful music)

Right, that's the door.

That's where the wages
truck will come from.

Bill, Greg, there.

And remember, no guns unless they use 'em.

George.

In the course of the post
mortem examination, I discovered

a large quantity of a
thio-barbiturate in her blood stream.

There were also traces in the stomach,

as well as a quantity of alcohol.

Was the alcohol of any significance?

It would accelerate
the absorption process.

Alcohol has that effect.

How'd you feel?

Terrible.

In your opinion then, the
mixture of the barbiturate

and alcohol was a fatal dose.
- Certainly.

And the bottle found by the
bedside contained traces

of this barbiturate,
identical with that discovered

in blood analysis and the stomach.

[Coroner] And so the fatal
dose was administered orally?

- In my opinion, sir, yes.
- Self-administered?

- Undoubtedly, sir.
- Thank you.

That's not possible.

(suspenseful music)

Here it comes.

Here we go.
(tyres screech)

Right, now!
(dramatic music)

(tyres screech)

Kick him!

Alright, Tinkerbell, you're nicked.

My verdict, therefore,
is that Janice Wyatt took

her own life whilst the balance
of her mind was disturbed.

That's all bollocks.

Oh, dear, oh, lor...

Sorry, I've only got one left.
- I only want one.

You got a light?

No.

Blast it.

You were puttin' 'em together quite well,

for someone who's over the hill.

"I could've been a contender."

Only, I needed the money.

Well done, Jack.

From what I heard, you could've
done with more men, though.

So could the entire force, Guvnor.

One of these days, you're
going to run into someone

who won't fall down when
you punch him on the nose.

I'll check your guns in five minutes.

Miserable sod.

- Guv?
- Yeah.

Do you feel like taking any calls yet?

No.

Shall I tell the geezer
who's been trying to get a hold

of you for the last two hours
to stop wasting his time?

- Who is it?
- Bloke called Brent.

- How many of us?
- Eight.

- Eight.
- Eight?

- Four in each cup.
- Oh, really?

(telephone rings)

- Yeah.
- This is Ronnie Brent.

- Hello, Ronnie.
- Jack.

Oh, you're back, you been busy?

I've been nickin' a dog-lover
with a ring in his ear.

[Ronnie] I was right then, how'd it go?

- Nice one, Ronnie.
- I'm glad to hear that.

'Cause I need a favour, I've
gotta see you right away.

- Oh, not now.
- Now, Holland Park.

- Look, Ronnie...
- Usual place, now.

(lively background chatter)

- So you've got one too then?
- Yeah, go on then. (chuckles)

- Jack.
- Hello, Ron.

What's up?
- Somebody's done my bird in.

- Your old lady?
- Nah, nah.

I had this bird, see, regular.

Oh, Ron, let's get this straight.

Does my firm know about this?
- They said it was suicide.

An overdose, bollocks.
- Who said?

Shit-bag of a coroner.

She never topped herself, Jack.

She was a great girl, full of life.

Yeah, yeah, listen, what makes
you think she was murdered?

They found her body at the flat, right?

At the time she's supposed
to have done it, two o'clock,

I was there, waitin' for her.

- In the flat?
- Yeah.

We were supposed to go down
to the coast for the weekend.

I went round to pick her
up, she wasn't there.

I had a key, let myself
in, I even had a drink!

- And?
- I waited till five o'clock!

She never showed, not a sign.

[Jack] Well, did you tell
the local lot all this?

- No, no.
- Well, why not?

Look, Jack, me and Janice, it was good.

Go on.

Well, she asked me to keep shtoom.

- About what?
- About me going with her.

It was her job, see.
- Her job?

Yeah, she had a good number
going as a personal assistant.

She did a lot of work with
foreign toffs, ambassadors,

wogs in the oil game, you know.

Bread was good, well, she thought...

And she thought being
seen with a known villain

was bad business?
- Yeah, well...

Well, it doesn't matter now, does it?

It does to me!

- How old was she, Ronnie?
- 23?

24?

What's that to do with it?

Look, Ron, the pathologist
got it wrong, it's happened

before, estimating time
of death's very difficult.

Oh, leave off, Jack.

Someone did her in to
get at you, is that it?

That's what I want you to suss out.

I can't do anything,
not after the inquest.

You owe me, Jack.

Ron, coroners don't say
suicide when they mean murder.

Talk to some of your
mates who were involved.

You never know!

- Alright, what was her name?
- Wyatt, Janice Wyatt.

- What'd he want?
- Love and affection.

(guests laugh)

No, listen, so Lomax was so drunk,

he asks the Sheik's bodyguard,
has he been circumcised.

I don't want you to print that, Antoine.

Of course not.

The whole of this lunch
is strictly off the record.

Can we have some more brandy, please?

Bianca, we kept your seat warm.

Okay listen, everybody, okay?

I want you to meet Bianca
Hamilton, a member of my staff.

Bianca, this is Hazel of The Post.

That's Antoine of Le Figaro.
- Hello.

- Erik, eh...
- Elferink.

Elferink of Die Telegraph.

And this is Mr. Peterson
of Trans World Oil.

And I think you, (chuckles) you
already know Angela and Sue.

- Hi.
- Hi.

Elliott, I'm sorry I'm so late.

That's okay, how'd it go?

I've never been to an
inquest before, it's all so,

matter of fact, I mean,

I couldn't believe it was
Janice they were talking about.

Okay, okay, can we see a menu, please?

[Bianca] No, no, I don't
want anything to eat.

Alright, sure.

So, just try to relax, huh?

Mr. Peterson has been asking after you.

I told Sue she'd have to handle it,

but I didn't have time to
fill her in on his background,

so could you do that
for me this afternoon?

Yeah, sure.

Because I'm up to my ears
with Charlie Baker, you know,

this goddamn Oil Conference.
- Baker?

Oh, there's a name to conjure with.

In fact, I have to meet
with him in 30 minutes.

He knows about Janice, by the way.

Oh?

How did he take it?

Oh, the way he takes
most things these days.

[Bianca] I thought he was on the waggon?

Oh, yeah.

Didn't we all.

(marching percussion music)

Well, that's settled then, Nigel.

I'll leave the Tribune people to you.

Right, sir, I'll
telephone you afterwards.

[Servant] Excuse, sir, Mr.
McQueen is in the drawing room.

- Chadwick?
- Not yet, sir.

Ah, what a way to run a country.

The Chancellor's gaga, the
Foreign Secretary's in Greenland,

and the Prime Minister's a
clockwork model of King Canute.

What, Grainger?

Just be grateful.

He's your leading opponent
in Cabinet, isn't he?

According to Moscow and Pravda, yes.

Just what has he got
against the nation's

longterm economic interest?

- Anno domini, old boy.
- Ah-hah.

Our Mr. Grainger's too old to survive

another bout in opposition.

So, let the gravy train roll, huh?

Mm, all over again.

Short-lived boom based on cheap oil.

Standard of living rockets.

The electorate who can't
see further than next week's

pay packet, return him
in triumph to Number 10.

It's a nine-day wonder.

A week is a long time in politics.

Yes and in the long run,
we're all dead. (chuckles)

You wanted me to get
here before Chadwick?

Yes.

Look, I've read a report in the press.

The inquest, you know, Janice's inquest.

Oh, Janice.

Janice who?

(siren wails)

- What a shame.
- Yeah.

What exactly did she do for a living?

Social Secretary for a
Public Relations outfit

in the West End, you know, type a letter,

tea at the zoo, dinner for
two, that kind of thing?

- Was she on the game?
- Well, try proving it.

She certainly knew a lot
of influential people.

There was a bit of follow up.
- What, Special Branch?

Yeah, just routine, but they were happy.

So was I, Jack.
- Dave, off the record.

Were you under pressure to
wrap this one up quickly?

- What's your game, Jack?
- Nothing.

It's just that we think
there might a connection

with something we're into.

Look, there was never any
suggestion of foul play.

The post mortem was totally
consistent with suicide.

- Are you certain about that?
- Well, it's all here!

You've read it.

Yeah.

Yeah, alright.

[Dave] You still tilting
at Windmills, Jack?

Thanks, Dave!

(men laugh)

And this is after his
memoirs were published?

That's why they were published.

[Chadwick] Right then, let's
get on with it, shall we?

No interview today, Frank, not today.

Then what the hell have
you brought me here for?

Charles has had a long, heavy day.

He's committed to a TV
show at 10, you know.

Why don't you call us in the morning?

I'm sure we can fix something...

Oh, come on, you've gotta be joking.

I've got a Thursday deadline,
it's my Conference Supplement!

I'm aware of that, we'll talk tomorrow.

It's alright, Frank, I'm not
going to let you down, am I?

I hope you don't, Charles.

I'll give you a call first
thing in the morning.

We'd rather you called
me, it's what I'm paid for.

Oh, he pays you, does he? (chuckles)

Seems like the other way round to me.

Frank, please.

I'll give you your interview.

Yes, you will.

Earn your money, will
ya, make sure he's sober.

(door slams)

Uncouth bore.

That uncouth bore pulls
more weight in the party

than the General Secretary of the T.U.C.

What the hell are you up to, Elliott?

He has a circulation of 20,000.

(telephone rings)

I've lined you up with
Time Life International.

I don't care if you've
got the paperback rights

to the Second Coming, it's
more than my political future's

worth to alienate Frank Chadwick.

Listen, Charles.
(telephone rings)

I know exactly what your
political future is worth.

(telephone rings)

Look, when a body's,
when a body's been lying,

the blood goes into pools
in the lowest parts.

I got that from a mate who's a doctor.

It was all checked out,
she hadn't been moved.

Listen, Jack, she
didn't die in the flat!

I keep telling you, I was there!

Alright, let's say someone
did her in to get at you.

Why take all the trouble of
makin' it look like a suicide?

Exactly!

(Jack sighs)

Alright, Ronnie, I'll
tell you what I'll do.

I'll go straight back to the
Yard and I'll make an entry

in my diary which says that you
told me you were in her flat

at the time she died.
- I'd deny it.

Ronnie.

Was she really your girl?
- Are you calling me a liar?

No, but, I think you've
been taken for a ride.

And you weren't the only
one, she was screwin' around.

I wouldn't lie to you, Ron, she was...

- I don't wanna know.
- Alright, that's it, then.

Bloody right that's it, then.

It was one of them, wasn't
it, one of them did it?

- They've all been cleared.
- Who were they?

Got any names?
- No.

- I want their names!
- Forget it, Ronnie!

You're only makin' trouble for yourself.

You can't bring her back, leave it alone!

No, Jack, you leave it alone.

But they couldn't prove it.

Ronnie was doing three years
in Parkhurst. (chuckles)

Was that when Mr. Regan
nicked him for doing

the silver vaults down in Victoria?

Yeah, he's kept well
out of his way since then,

and made a few bob, legit, of course.

Well, yeah, of course.

Like this place.
- Yeah, right.

Mr. Regan, lovely fella.

[George] You told him, then?

Oh, well, he'd have
found out sooner or later.

[George] How'd he take it?

Fell about laughing, didn't he?

- It's the way you tell 'em.
- Yeah, silly old sod.

Makin' a fool of himself.

I reckon he's going
through the change of life.

You don't know Ronnie,
he may be over the hill,

but he can still mix it when he wants to.

(bell tolls)

Miss Hamilton?

Yes?

Mr. Brent's here, to have a word.

- Sorry, I'm late.
- It's urgent, miss.

It won't take a minute.

[Bianca] Look, I can't
go far, I'm late as it is.

[Driver] Now look, the car's over there.

- Get in.
- Look, Ronnie.

Why can't you leave me alone?
- Get in!

You've been avoiding me.

Look, I'm sorry I hung
up on you, Ronnie, but I...

She was seeing someone else, wasn't she?

- What are you on about?
- She had others.

Who were they?

Come on, you worked with
her, you shared a flat.

I wanna know, and don't
lie, I want it straight.

Look, you're being
ridiculous, now let me out.

Not until you tell me
the names of the blokes

she was going with.
- There were no other blokes.

I've got it from Scotland Yard.

Scotland Yard!

Listen!
(Bianca gasps)

To you, I may be just a rubbishy
villain but I'm not stupid.

I've got a mate in the Sweeney.

He's reopening inquiries
into Janice's death.

Ronnie, take me back, now!

(background chatter)

Hey you know why they have
so much food at their weddings?

It's to keep the flies off the bride.

(guests laugh)

And how do you recognise
one in the car wash?

He's the one on the motor cycle.

(laughs) Oh, Elliott, honestly.

(background chatter)

I'm telling you, he's bent.
(Baker laughs)

A slight exaggeration.

Now, look.

Are you Energy Secretary or aren't you?

You mustn't misjudge Elliott,
he means well, you know?

Ah, speak of the devil, here he is now.

Well, talking of the devil, gentlemen?

No, talking about you,
McQueen, your country's

got everything to gain
from cheap oil, hasn't it?

And your Yankee oil conglomerates.

Well, I hope you're not questioning

my professional integrity, Mr. Chadwick.

I think he is, Elliott,
but knowing Frank,

he's more concerned about
his Thursday deadline.

Right.

I'm concerned about bloody
foreigners knowing too much

about affairs of state, I'm
concerned about so-called Public

Relations Officers who are nowt
but glorified bloody pimps.

Oh, you're looking exceptionally lovely

this evening, my dear.
- Thank you.

Bianca, I want you to
meet Francis Chadwick.

Editor of the New Democrat.

Yes, I think we've met
once before actually.

How do you do, Mr. Chadwick?
- Yes, we have.

- You wanted a word?
- Whenever it's convenient.

There's no time like the present.

Excuse us?
- Please.

Charles, you don't have a drink.

Oh, I ask you, how can
he have women like that

hanging out of him and not be bloody bent?

Let me point out your new assignment.

He's another OPIC Delegate.
- Good evening, sir.

- Oh, good evening, thank you.
- Thank you.

That's him the shades on, got it?

Say, are you sure you wanna
go back to work so soon?

Because I can give him to Angela.

- No, no, no, I'm fine.
- Okay.

[Bianca] Listen, there is
one thing, it's the flat.

[McQueen] Well, I'm gonna
find a new flatmate for you.

[Bianca] Couldn't I move out until then?

You can move into the
company's hotel suite anytime.

It's paid for.

- Okay.
- Lonely, huh?

No, it's just one of
Janice's boyfriends, he just

won't stop pestering me, he's
never off the bloody phone.

- Oh, what's he want?
- McQueen.

- Take it easy, Joe.
- He just keeps raving on.

He's got this thing about
Janice being murdered.

He's off his head.
- (chuckles) Come on.

Eh, what's his name?

Ronnie Brent.

Between you and me, he's
some sort of a crook.

- Brent, huh?
- Mm, owns the Phoenix.

You know, that's where all
the underworld characters

are supposed to go, Janice loved all that.

He's quite harmless, just a
bit of a nuisance, that's all.

I think I did meet him once, yeah.

Used car salesman?

Hm, well he does all sorts of things.

It's all a bit Freudian, really.

He's old enough to be her father.

Yeah, keep talking.

I have to make a call.

Well, he stopped me in the
street this evening, I mean,

it's getting a bit much.
- Oh, yes, that's shocking.

[Bianca] His latest
thing is Scotland Yard.

Scotland Yard?

Yes, he's got this friend
who's gonna take another look

into Janice's death or something.

I know it's silly, but, well, you know...

Yeah.

Still, now you're moving into
the company's hotel suite.

That's your problem solved, right?

- Yes, I suppose it is.
- Mm-hm.

Look, I think it's time you
introduced yourself to your

new guardian, I'm told
he's yet another, uh,

backgammon player.

And if this Mr. Brent or anyone
gives you any more trouble,

you just come to me, okay?

- Okay.
- Hey, nice party, Elliott.

Sorry we can't stay.

Okay, well I'll be talking to you.

Thanks, Elliott.

Good luck with the new, um...

"Backgammon."

Oh, boy.

Johnson.

We have a new priority item.

Is Ronnie Brent here?
(Ronnie chuckles)

Are you Ronnie Brent?
- I'm Brent.

Look, our guvnor sent us down
to warn you about something.

What?

- I'll show you.
- Who is your guvnor?

- The chief at Blythe Road!
- I thought he was away, sick?

Look, I don't wanna
wave this thing about.

Can we go somewhere?
- Yeah, alright.

We're supposed to show
this to all you boys.

Kev!

Well?

Bet you've never seen
one of these before.

I'm running a car business,
not a bleedin' revolution.

(officers chuckle)

The word is out that
someone's tryin' to knock these

out on the Manor, this is
an American sub-machine gun.

The Ingram fires 1,000 rounds

of nine millimetre ammunition
per minute, goodnight.

(gun fires rapidly)

(guns fires rapidly)
(Ronnie screams)

(officers chuckle)

They're right, you know.

Dull, it isn't.

(officer chuckles)

Alright, Sarah, Johnson
and Johnson should be looking

for me later on, I'll be with
the Venezuelans till, um,

till the small hours.

Now.

Tonight.

Tonight, Angela is going
to join you because

you're working on the
Libyan connection, together.

By special request.

You better get some rest,
it's gonna be a long night.

(bell rings)

(horn honks)

- Which one's Ronnie Brent?
- This one, I think.

Open it.

Jesus.

What'd they do him with, six-inch nails?

Who the bloody hell might you be, then?

- DI Regan, Squad.
- DS Carter.

Oh, Harrison, DI F. Division.

What's the Sweeney's interest?
- The late Mr. Brent.

What's the full S.P.?
- Looks like a gang war.

Brent versus the Morrises or the Tilcocks.

Stan Morris?

Leave it out, he couldn't
organise a piss up in a brewery.

He'd never get this off.

Not without the Magnificent Seven.

- Nor could the Tilcocks.
- What's going on, Ernie?

Oh, uh, DI Regan, Flying Squad, sir.

And DS Carter.
- I see.

We had an interest in Brent, Guvnor.

I spoke to your commander a
few minutes ago, I'm surprised

he didn't have the courtesy
to inform me of your interest.

Well, it wasn't official, Guvnor.

Ronnie Brent was one of my informants.

I hope you have others, Mr. Regal.

Regan, sir.

I take it we can be of
no further use to you?

Oh, there is one thing, sir.

This, uh, gangland stuff.

Oh, I did mention our preliminary ideas

on it being, uh, inter-gang rivalry, sir.

That's a load of
rubbish, with respect, sir.

Ronnie Brent's rivals would
never have laid this on.

No, I think he was involved
in something much bigger.

No London team would do this.
- Highly inventive.

Evidence?

Now, will you and your sergeant
go back to your strip club,

or wherever it is you
masquerade as police officers?

Ernie.

Supercilious old sod.

Just a moment, sir.

Detective Sergeant Burton, Special Branch.

Oh, yeah?

I was interested in what you just said

to the Superintendent.
- Were you, Sunbeam?

[Burton] If a rival gang didn't do it,

who do you think did?
- The Dagenham Girl Pipers.

I shall have to report this
serious lack of cooperation.

Sir!

Now listen, Little Lord
Spymaster, you may be

Special Branch, but that
doesn't make you God Almighty.

I am a DI and you're a sergeant, right?

For your information, if you
wanna talk to a senior officer,

you go through your guvnor, got it?

Now, sod off.

(bell rings)

(suspenseful music)

- It's so awful.
- Oh, I know, it's appalling.

To die like that.

Ronnie was rather sweet,
really, in his own way.

You were right about him
being a gangster, though.

Johnson and Johnson are on
your private line, Mr. McQueen.

Excuse me.

Yes.

Hello to you, Mr. Johnson.

That could well be the item
we were told about yesterday.

Listen, why do you think we get

such a free hand on the Sweeney?

I'll tell you.

You'll tell me, I'm
bleeding sure you'll tell me.

They need us Death-or-Glory
boys to take on the violent

criminals, the blaggers, Big
Tiny, that wages truck, right?

All over the papers.

"The Forces of Law and Order

"Continue to Combat Major Crime."

Major Crime.

How much was on that wages truck?

- 20 grand.
- 20 grand.

A good accountant can make
that in, what, half an hour.

Fiddling some toff's income
tax, it's all out of proportion.

Look, hey, listen,
what's all this gotta do

with Ronnie Brent getting his
head blown off down in Fulham?

Everything!

(George chuckles)

Well, you take that silly old sod

of a Chief Super out there today.

Ronnie's a villain, therefore,

whoever killer him must
be another villain.

We must have scapegoats,
as long as we've got them,

and silly bleeders like
us to chase after 'em,

no one's gonna notice the
real criminals out there,

busy skinnin' us all alive.

Do you know what, Jack?

You're full of shit.

I thought it was about time you made

an intellectual
contribution to this debate.

Bollocks.

You know what, you're just pissed off,

'cause they didn't go down on
their hands and knees to you

down at Fulham, aren't ya, eh, eh?

Meaning?

Well, when he didn't
say, "Oh, it's Jack Regan!

"Mastermind of the Sweeney!

"Please come and help
us solve our problem!"

Got right up your nose, didn't it, eh?

And you've bored the arse
off me all night long,

trying to prove otherwise.

You don't have to stay, you know.

Too bleeding right, I don't.

I'm off.

Sod it.

Do you know what, Doreen?

George saved my life the other night.

And now I've left him for you.

Alright, Jack?

Sod it.

[Reporter] It's down one
and three-quarters at 283

and a half, and zinc down
two and three-quarters

at 441 and a half.

(siren wails)

Oh, shit.

(suspenseful music)

- Been drinking, have we?
- I'm in the same job as you.

DI Regan, Flying Squad.
- Been drinking, have we, sir?

Look, why have you pulled me?

You rear light's not working.

Come and have a look.

(glass smashes)

You bastard.

Just pump that up with
one blow, would you?

- I'm gonna have you!
- Start breathing.

You're under arrest.
(officer laughs)

Come on.

(Jack grunts and groans)

Gone a funny colour.

[Officer] No, he doesn't
look too well, does he?

I think he needs some air.
(officer laughs)

Right!

Okay, let's get him back
in his car, come on.

I think you'll find your
car's been serviced.

[Officer] Yeah, you should
give it a road test. (laughs)

(tyres screech)
(tense electronic music)

(tyres screech)

[Man] Blimey, he's legless, look at him!

Get an ambulance, quick, quick!

Detective Inspector Regan.

In view of your impending
prosecution for dangerous

and drunken driving offences,
the disciplinary inquiry

is being carried out by a
senior officer from A. 10

acting under instructions
from the Deputy Commissioner.

In consequence, you are
suspended as from now,

10:35, 27th April.

You will surrender pocket
book, warrant card, whistle,

truncheon, key to your desk and locker.

You will be escorted from the building.

Whilst under suspension, you may report

to your senior officer, but
you are not allowed contact

with any other officer or any
representative of the media.

You are entitled to be
present whilst your locker

and desk are being searched.

I'd like to make a statement, sir.

I have reason to believe
that there is a high-level

conspiracy which is
responsible for several so-far

unexplained deaths and of which
I myself have been a victim.

Is that it?

- Yeah.
- I see, thank you.

That'll be all.

Come.

Please would you be so
good as to make a note

of that statement in your diary, sir?

You too, Guvnor.

'Cause it's already in mine.

How is he this morning?

Depends when he had his first drink.

Ah, gentlemen.

Nigel, can you file this?

The PM's already made sure

that this question will never be asked.

Right, sir.

I was saying to Nigel,
there's a big readership in the

Canadian West with this
Athabaska Tar Sands thing on the

boil, I think they oughta be
acquainted with your views.

I take your point, Elliott,
but the Rocky Mountains

are a long way from
Whitehall, you talk to them.

Charles.

You really do have to stop
being so damn parochial.

[Charles] Elliott, with a
Cabinet as divided as ours is,

I can't afford not to be,
which reminds me, Chadwick.

- In hand.
- When?

[McQueen] At a guess,
I'd say about next Tuesday?

Do you know what you're saying?

Yes, Chadwick gets no interview
until after the OPIC vote.

Elliott, explain that.

Janice Wyatt.

Janice?

Covering up the death of
even the commonest prostitute

is still a crime.
- Janice, prostitute?

I don't understand what the
hell you're talking about.

She was working for me.

We never billed you, till now.

I had nothing to do with her death.

Unfortunately, it has
everything to do with you.

You asked for it to be covered up.

Greater men have fallen for less.

Oh, yeah.

Nobody died at Watergate.

- What do you want?
- From you?

Not a great deal.

See, we're in the process of
persuading a number of clients

to take a particular point of view.

Now, I've gone to the trouble

of setting out the argument for you.

It helps to explain your
about-turn in Cabinet this morning.

About-turn?

You're out of your mind.

A lowering of oil price can
only be in the best interests

of Britain and the world.

- A lowering of oil price?
- Exactly!

Nation before self, this
could be a rallying cry

as you go towards your political goal.

Even if I could sway
the Cabinet, and OPIC too,

what would you have achieved?

No price increase for just one year.

A year is a long time
in the oil business.

Billions of dollars.

Who are you?

I'm your press agent.

[Charles] Who are you working for?

I work for you, Charles.

(upbeat rock music)

Jack.

- You alright, George?
- Yeah.

Listen, I want you to
get onto Dave Chapman,

that DI who handled
the Janice Wyatt death.

I'm sorry, Guv, I can't do it.

George, I'm not asking,
mate, I'm pleading.

Have you gone bananas?

Your chances are slim enough as they are.

This is my only chance.

Yeah, well I can't get involved.

You're a marked man.
- Thanks a lot.

What, I've gotta get
slung out and all, have I?

Do you remember where she worked?

Yeah, it's Medium something, wasn't it?

Media, yeah, Media Limited.

No, no, Incorporated, Media Incorporated.

- Where?
- Yellow Pages, init?

Let your fingers do the walking.

At least keep me posted on
the Brent murder inquiry, eh?

I'm sorry, Guvnor, no way.

Oh, bloody hell!

Have a drink?
- Up yours.

Then get yourself two
gross of Alka Seltzer.

Stop fishing, James.

Now you know I only advise
on personal publicity.

Well, if there was a surprise
in Cabinet this morning,

it was not leaked to me.

(phone bleeps)
Hang on, yeah?

[Sarah] Sorry to interrupt, Mr. McQueen,

but I've got Johnson
and Johnson on line two.

Fine.
(phone bleeps)

Sorry, James, when you
gotta go, you gotta go.

Yeah, and the same to you, old boy.

(moody jazz music)

Completely isolated?

Very good.

Keep monitoring.

(lively rock music)

(moody jazz music)

- Yes?
- Detective Inspector Regan.

I'd like to speak to your boss.

You mean Mr. McQueen?

He never sees anyone
without an appointment.

- Is he in?
- I'm afraid not.

It is urgent.

Oh, in that case,
I'll try to contact him.

You did say Regan?
- Yes.

(background chatter)

Yes, sir?

I'm looking for a Mr. McQueen.

Oh yes, follow me, please.

Over there, sir.

Thank you.

Mr. McQueen?
- Yes.

Oh, Inspector...
- Regan, Mr. McQueen.

Regan, do sit down, Inspector Regan.

Thank you.

- Ernest, drink?
- Uh, no, thank you, sir.

Inspector, do you have any ID?

I'm with Criminal
Intelligence and not obliged

to carry a warrant card, this
is an undercover operation.

Oh, I see, sounds very exciting.

A man named Ronald
Brent has been murdered.

You may have seen it in the papers.

Now, Brent was what we
call a target criminal,

in other words, we were
keeping close tabs on him.

Not close enough, evidently.

(Jack chuckles)

Our inquiries suggest that
Brent was having an affair

with one of your employees, Janice Wyatt.

Yes.

Ah, Janice, gee, that's tragic.

Tragic.
- I was coming to that.

Before he died, Brent
made certain allegations,

about Janice Wyatt's death,
inferring that she didn't

take her own life, that she was murdered.

My god.

Now what sort of girl was she?

Well, she kept herself
to herself, you know.

She was a loner, really.

Both parents dead, no
relatives, at least nobody

showed at the funeral.
- Call for you, sir.

Oh, thank you.

You'll excuse me?

Hello?

Oh, Johnson.

You really do have to look
into that monitoring system,

I mean, the document showed
up here, would you believe?

Yes, here, right now.

I'll get it sent over, yeah.

I'll be talking to you, bye.

I'm sorry.

Janice Wyatt, surely she
must've had some friends?

I mean, what about the
people she worked with?

Oh, you mean Bianca?

Bianca Hamilton?

[Jack] Yeah.

Yeah, Miss Hamilton, tell me about her.

- You know they shared a flat?
- Yeah, yeah, we knew that.

Could I, uh, talk to her?
- Oh, yeah, sure.

Well, right at this moment,
Miss Hamilton is, uh,

showing a Gulf Sheikh
round Windsor Castle,

and then she's accompanying
someone to an Embassy function.

Oh, but that's later, yeah.

Now, she's staying at a hotel right now.

My company retains an apartment.

Would you like to meet with her there?

- Yeah, please.
- Fine.

I'll, uh, just tell her to expect you.

And if there's any snag,
why you just call my office.

Thanks, Mr. McQueen,
you've been most helpful.

Any time, Inspector.

Oh, and if you, you know,
dig up anything about Janice,

I'd be most grateful for a call.

Oh, yeah, sure, yeah.

Bye.
- Thanks.

(typewriters clack)

Right, ask Harry to sub
this down to 500 less if he

wouldn't mind and I wanna see
Arthur as soon as he comes in.

And keep ringing Elliott McQueen

till you do get through, alright?

Little bastard.

Harry!

Oh, you're there, get in that chair.

Sylvia, forget the call.

I'm going to see Mr.
Bloody McQueen in person.

- Frank!
- What?

- The classifieds!
- Oh, piss off.

(moody jazz music)

You got a light, mate?

Who are you, then, Special Branch?

You sussed me.

If you don't lose me,
I'll buy you a drink.

Sure you've got time?

All yours.

(moody jazz music)

Oh, why me again?

Because he's an animal, that's why.

Oh, alright, alright, just this once.

But only him, not all
his perverted brothers.

I've still got the bloody bruises.

(knocks)

I'll have to go, Elliott, bye.

Miss Hamilton?

- Yes?
- Detective Inspector Regan.

Mr. McQueen sent me to see ya.

He never said anything to me.

Look, don't muck me about,
love, call Mr. McQueen.

Get stuffed!

(door slams)

(suspenseful music)

(frantic knocks)

Get out of the way!
(Bianca yelps)

[Bianca] Get out of
here, what're you doing?

Get out!

Get out of here, what're you doing?

Get out of here! (screams)
(knocks)

(gun fires rapidly)
(screams)

Come on!

(Bianca screams)

Run!

(dramatic music)

[Johnson] Down, come on!

- Come on!
- In the car, right side.

Shut up, lady!

How far to the next stop?
- Help me, please!

Just shut up one minute, will you?

- Please!
- Please be quiet!

(bell dings)

(tyres screech)

(horns honk)

Get the door open!

Let's move!
(horns honk)

Back off, back off!

(tyres screech)
(horns honk)

(tyres screech)

Oi, oi!

We need protection, get
on your radio quick.

- Just a minute.
- I'm Flying Squad.

Well, in that case...
(gun fires)

- Oh, god!
- Move!

(dramatic music)

I'm a policeman.

Take me to the nearest police station now.

Now, come on, mate, it's a
matter of life and death!

You chicken-livered shit-head!

Jesus.

I'm sure Mr. McQueen won't be too long.

Oh, sod this, who the
hell does he think he is?

Oh, (chuckles) sure.

You bet ya. (laughs)

No, of course not, I look forward...

What the bloody hell
do you mean by that?

Right, it's okay, I
look forward to that.

I haven't been in
Hyannisport for a long time.

In fact, it was before Bobby died.

Yes, I look forward.

And the same to you.

Well, there aren't too
many of us left now, right?

(chuckles)

Okay, goodbye, Ted.

Frank, why don't you take a
seat, what can I do for you?

You can get out of my
bloody way for a start.

That's what you can do for me.

Frank, there's no need
for all this, what's wrong?

You're wrong, the nasty
little game you're up to,

that's wrong, but I'm warning you...

"Game," Frank, have
you had a liquid lunch?

Now, you shut up and
you get this straight.

For five years, I've had a
very good working relationship

with Charles Baker, until he employed you,

the day after he joined the Cabinet.

Now nobody can get anywhere near him.

All the press ever get is an
official Ministry handout,

or the brushoff from you
whenever we want an exclusive.

What are you asking for, Frank?

I'm asking to do my job, now,
Baker as good as promised me

to give me an exclusive
on this oil conference.

You tell me I can have it next week,

when the bloody conference is over!

Okay, okay!

We'll see.

Charles has a very heavy schedule.

It didn't stop him giving an exclusive

to an American paper.

That was arranged months ago.

Balls!

(dramatic music)

- Oh, bastard's been smashed.
- What's it all about?

I don't know, I'm tryin' to think.

- I'm going to the police.
- No!

If those two guys are Special Branch,

it's the police who are tryin' to kill us!

Baker is getting ready
to stand on his head.

You're going to have to explain that.

Oh, no, McQueen, you explain
it, you see, I've heard

that Baker's been telling
all his Arab friends that

what the world really needs
is a low oil price after all.

He's been saying one thing in
private and another in public.

Well, you know.

And that's why you
wouldn't let me at him, eh?

Baker's getting ready to
sell our oil on the cheap,

and bring the government
down in the process.

He's been got at.

That's a very, very serious charge

against a minister of the crown.

Now, if you dare to print anything that...

I won't hurt Charles Baker.

I'm getting out my special file.

The article I'm gonna write is about you.

- Sarah.
- Yes, Mr. McQueen?

Would you get me Johnson and Johnson?

Second number.

Up here.

Up the stairs, come on.

This way, this way.

(knocks)

(door thuds)

Get up, get up, for god's sake.

You wanna watch it mate,
there's a copper livin' in there.

- Keep watch over there.
- Oh, god.

Do it!

Yeah, no, look, okay.

Check out the guys he works with.

Those cops are as thick as thieves, right.

Yeah, so trace him through his sergeant.

Those two items have
gotta be accounted for.

Hey, come on, get in.

Why does he never open
the bloody curtains?

No, leave 'em!

Right, you've got some explaining to do.

- I've got some...
- And before witnesses!

You're goddamn limit!

You want explanations from me?
- Jesus Christ.

I want some bloody explan...

The phone's tapped, the
whole place could be bugged.

(water sprays)

Now, everything you
know about Janice Wyatt.

- Who the hell are you?
- Quiet, Sweeney.

Not your stinking
name, who you work for!

Scotland Yard, the Flying
Squad, it's called the Sweeney.

Look, listen.

You have now a terminal,
repeat, terminal assignment.

Yeah, you wanna take it down?

The New Democrat.

Yeah, it's a magazine.

One three five.

Wolston Street.

S-W-one.

Baker?

She was his mistress?

Mistress?

What books do you read?

Baker, McQueen.

Now, you work in McQueen's office.

- I don't work in his office.
- Where do you work, then?

Oh, god, what are you,
a detective or a vicar?

What do you think I do, letters?

Take shorthand?
- Aren't you a secretary?

Social secretary!

Now, what does that mean?

[Bianca] What do you
think a social secretary

does for a living?

I don't wanna think
anything, you tell me!

(Bianca screams)

I'm a whore, that's what I am!

I whore for McQueen, I
whore for his clients!

I whore for the banks, oil
companies, politicians!

The whole lousy country, and
that probably includes you!

(sobs)

People like me and Janice
are laid on, to entertain,

anyone rich and powerful enough to matter!

How do you rate, Sweeney,
can you afford 1,000 a night?

That's what they pay to screw me!

(sobs)

I'm sorry.

I'm a copper, I meet a lot of tarts.

You didn't seem like one to me.

Top line out, whole paragraph
out, bottom paragraph out.

Easy when you know how, okay,
come to me anytime, Sylvia?

Let's go on, "Recent
international scandals involving

"the bribery of men
prominent in public life."

That's where we're up to, let's try again.

Have shown, all too clearly,

the lengths, the ruthless lengths,

to which multi-national
companies will go to achieve

their avaricious aims in our own country.

(knocks)

Clean your windows, Guv?

What now?

It's the contract.

I'll be off in a minute.
- Alright, get on with it.

Bash that out, be back in five minutes.

(suspenseful music)

Oh, shall need to
fetch the steps in here.

(device bleeps)

(explosion booms)
(journalists scream)

[Man] For Christ's sake, get out!

And get a bloody ambulance!

[Reporter] The evening
rush hour well underway.

More traffic news in a quarter of an hour.

The time now, exactly 5:30.

You're listening to LDC,
broadcasting to the world's

third-largest audience for radio news.

I barricaded the door.

I can't find any bugs,
but the phone is tapped.

[Bianca] How do you
know there are any bugs?

I don't for sure.

[Reporter] And Britain holds the key

to the new world oil price.

Do you know what I think?

I think you're a paranoid old
bugger yourself. (giggles)

(Jack chuckles)
(Bianca giggles)

Okay, Sarah, it's noon there.

Must make my progress call.

Four zero seven.

Five eight two.

Nine three six.

Five.

Okay.

McQueen.

Hello, sir.

Now, as of now, the
conference is 40% secure.

I'm waiting on information
from the Latin-Americans,

but they should be no problem.

Now, we have the North-Africans already.

So, it's gonna be close,
but with the British vote,

I think we're gonna be
home and dry by tomorrow.

[Reporter] The conference and
Britain may hold the casting

vote on whether the world
oil price rises or falls.

In this afternoon's long
session, reported as tense,

it became clear that the
conference is almost equally

divided between those wishing
to ease the burden on the

industrial powers by allowing
the world oil price to fall,

and those wishing to create
a fund to help poor nations

by making the rich pay more for their oil.

The Department of Energy and
Natural Resources is refusing

to comment on Britain's
position amidst speculation

that the Cabinet is still
undecided which way to vote.

Mr. Charles Baker, the
Secretary of State for Energy,

spent two hours...
- Uh, no, no.

We persuaded the editor, Mr.
Chadwick, to our point of view.

(chuckles) Yeah, sure.

No, one thing, this policeman, Regan?

No, no, he's no threat to us,
but uh, we're tryin' to set up

an interview with him and
if we do, we're gonna, uh,

persuade him towards our
point of view as well.

(chuckles) Yeah, right, he's no problem.

(chuckles) Sure.

[Reporter] Several fire
appliances were on the scene,

and the injured were taken
to Kingsway Hospital.

It's not known what caused the explosion,

but a London Fire Brigade
spokesman said that

evidence points strongly
to a fractured gas main.

Scotland Yard says that the
policeman who was shot dead

in Kensington this afternoon
was killed by a high-velocity

bullet from a military rifle
of foreign manufacture.

A search is underway for the gunman,

who was seen escaping in a red mini.

Anybody who saw a red mini containing...

(suspenseful music)

[George] Hey!

Sweeney?

What's that?

(door clunks)

- Jesus.
- That bloke did that.

What bloke? Oi, oi!

- George!
- What bloke?

Well, when was this, then?
- Oh, it was just when...

[Jack] George, George,
get up here quick!

Now, you listen to me, I've been...

No, it's alright, it's
alright, he's a policeman.

Oi!

Bloody hell, Guvnor, this
is a bit flaming strong!

What the bleeding hell's goin' on here?

(grunts)

- Sit down.
- You what?

Shut up and sit down.
(water sprays)

We can talk in here, they
won't have bugged this room.

Guvnor, I think you've gone diddlo.

(suspenseful music)

Frank Chadwick.

Sweeney, Sweeney!

Chadwick's been killed!

Listen.

Janice Wyatt sleeps with
the oil minister, she dies.

Ronnie Brent starts
shouting about it, he dies.

I talk to Brent, I get suspended.

I talk to Bianca, we
both nearly get killed,

and that copper gets it,
now this editor gets it.

What's the connection?

- Everyone's known to McQueen.
- Thank you.

You've earned yourself a merit badge.

Yeah, alright, Guvnor, but why?

She knows, whoever McQueen's working for

wants something in a hurry, right?

Something very big, worth any risk.

Now what's the biggest thing
going on in London right now?

You know what I think?

Charles Baker himself will be next.

The oil vote is tomorrow.
- No.

I mean, what's the point in killing Baker?

Someone else will take his
place and vote the same way.

Has McQueen got anything on Baker?

Me and Janice, I suppose.

You've slept with him, too?

Oh, Christ, don't start that again.

Yes, often, separately and together.

Sometimes with an audience and sometimes...

- Now, shut up!
- Guvnor!

[Bianca] The action replay
brought the house down.

- You know what you are?
- Jack!

Look, they've got this
placed bugged already, right?

How long before they pay us a visit?

We stick around here much longer,

we're not gonna make
senior citizen, are we?

Now, come on, I've got the car outside.

I'll get you a sweater.

Get dressed.

And don't move till I call.

(suspenseful music)

(car starts)

(horn honks)

Right, now!

(gun fires rapidly)
(Bianca groans)

(Johnson groans)

[Johnson] You stupid git!

We've lost them.

I should've come out last, George.

Then they would've got you.

(typewriters clack)

Don't put too much weight on it.

Lean on me.

Oi.

It's alright, Skip, he's under arrest.

Oh, no he's not, he suspended,
he shouldn't be in here.

Oh, shut your face.

Oh.

Nice.

Yes, I appreciate that,
and thank you, Carter.

What I want to know is, who
discovered this conspiracy,

you or DI Regan?

Well, uh, mostly Mr. Regan, sir.

Ah, Regan, if there is anything
in your claim about this,

this someone trying to
damage our interests

at the oil conference...
- There's no if about it, sir.

Then Special Branch,

or the Secret Service will know about it.

With respect, if Special
Branch and the Secret Service are

so bloody clever, why haven't
they done anything about it?

Regan, it isn't up to you
to question their methods.

Question!

Five people are dead!

Including a well-known
journalist, a police officer,

and a young woman, now,
what more do you need?

I mean, what's the matter with everybody?

What, is the whole country asleep?

Are you deaf as well as stupid?

- Jack, now Jack, now please...
- Thank you, Mr. Matthews.

I'm quite capable of dealing with this.

Well, yes, of course, sir, I was...

However, I will inform the
Assistant Commissioner Crime,

but if this turns out to
be a last desperate attempt

on your part to save your pension, Regan...

Pension, dear god in heaven.

It's a miracle I'm still alive, sir!

I want to speak to
the Assistant Commiss...

The Commissioner himself.

Just a moment, sir.

They're on their way.

He's told him we're here.

That hurt?

A bit.

Mr. Regan, I'm the PPS,
I'd like a word with you.

If you'll come with me, please.

I'm Regan.

I'm Commander Maynon, sir,
the senior officer here.

Yes, I'm sure.

Can you manage?

Oh, yeah, no problem at all, sir.

Right, then this way, Mr. Regan.

[Jack] Thank you.

Who was that man?

Oh, that's the Parliamentary
Private Secretary

to the Secretary of State for Energy, sir.

Going back to the Yard.

Okay.

Sorry to bring you all this way.

Oh, it's nothing really, you know.

Just a very small fracture.

- Please have a seat.
- Oh, thank you.

I wanted to talk to you in private.

It's a delicate matter.

The Secretary of State has resigned.

You saw him just now on
his way to Number 10.

But no announcement will be
made until after the vote

at the Oil Conference tomorrow afternoon.

I'm sure you understand.

I see, yeah.

You, Mr. Regan, now have
information normally within

the province of the Secret
Service or Special Branch.

Now, I know as a serving officer
you're used to confidences,

and in any case, you've signed
the Official Secrets Act,

but I want to impress on you
the importance of maintaining

the strictest silence
about this entire affair.

You appreciate what's at stake.

The cooperation of our oil partners,

and national credibility and so on.

Can I ask a question, sir?

My sergeant's phone was
tapped, who did that?

Special Branch?

For your ears only.

Yes, they've been watching
you around the clock.

They knew I was set up.

They were gonna let McQueen's
maniacs kill me out there.

Ah, you'd have to ask them about that.

Who is McQueen, I mean,
who does he work for?

In the past, us, and now,

well, it seems someone's
made him a better offer.

[Jack] Multi-national oil companies?

(PPS chuckles)

No comment.

Oil companies.

Now, you're reinstated,
did you know that?

All's well that ends well.

Can you find your own way out?

There's just one more thing, sir.

What's gonna happen to McQueen?

I mean, he is gonna stand trial?

Well, the Prime Minister
thinks the sooner he's out

of the country, the better,
could be embarrassing.

First Class at the
British taxpayer's expense.

Bloody marvellous.
- Hardly.

Between us, the Secret Service
is shipping him out, freight,

via Tilbury.

When?

11 o'clock tomorrow, morning tide.

You mean he's not under arrest?

People like McQueen are
above arrest, Inspector.

And if his people thought
we were going to arrest him,

he might not live very long, and that,

on British soil, would be embarrassing.

He should be locked
up in the bloody tower.

That's exactly where MI5
have got him, the Tower Hotel.

Well, goodnight, sir.

And thanks.

Kinetic.

Chemical.

Electrical, potential.

Radiant and heat, they're
all forms of energy, see?

Amazing what they teach
you at school, init?

No, Maynon's gone.

- I'm reinstated.
- Ah, well done, Jack.

Listen, George, I'm just going up

to see a man about a warrant.
- Warrant?

First thing in the morning,
I want you and the team,

eight up in three cars,
pick me up at 7:30.

- Now what's all this about?
- We're gonna arrest McQueen.

- Oh you can't arrest McQueen.
- That's what they all say.

Goodnight, George.

Do you know what energy is?

The capacity to do work.

Can I use your phone, please?

- Guv, Tom here.
- Yes, Tom.

There's a boat just
come under the bridge

and he's entering the lock
on this side of the hotel.

- What sort of boat?
- Not very big.

But it looks fast, could be
the one we're waiting for.

[Jack] Right, tell George to meet me

opposite the side entrance.

I'm on my way round.
- Got it.

- Gerry?
- Yeah, I'm listening, Guv.

- Keep watching the front.
- Right, Guv.

- They're all in position.
- Right.

Are you sure they're
gonna use the river?

Well, wouldn't you?

Small boat down to Tilbury.

Smuggle him onto something bigger.

That's why they've brought him here, init?

You don't think McQueen's people

are gonna try and spring him?

What, his own people?

Well, they want him out of
the country, don't they?

What, in case he talks, you mean?

Oh dear, they're gonna
love you, aren't they?

[Tom] Guv, it's Tom.

That boat's not going
anywhere, just waiting.

[Jack] Thanks, Tom, I see it, yeah.

Keep your eye on it.
- Right, Guv.

[George] You see that road sweeper?

Not working very hard, is he?

Hold up, I think here's James Bond.

Wouldn't you say they're
Secret Service men?

Yeah, that's them.

There'll be one other inside,
at least, with McQueen.

[George] I reckon that
road sweeper's one as well.

No.

No, he's not a government man.
- How can you tell?

That's just the sort of...
- Here's McQueen.

(suspenseful music)

Detective Sergeant Carter, Flying Squad.

We've got a warrant for McQueen's arrest.

Mr. McQueen is about
to leave the country

under government sponsorship.

Have you got a warrant
or a Custody Order

from the High Court?
- Who are you?

- DI Regan.
- Don't be silly, chum.

Look, you know who we are,
we work for the government.

Yeah and we're the Sweeney
and this man is under arrest.

[Agent] On what charge?

Pimping.

You wanna get rid of this clown?

Elliott Wainwright McQueen.

I have here a warrant for your arrest

under Section 30 of the
Sexual Offences Act, 1956.

For knowingly exercising
control, direction,

or influence over diverse prostitutes

in a way which shows you
were aiding, abetting,

or compelling their
prostitution with others.

This man's mad, get me onto the boat.

That's enough, come on, out of the way.

It's an offence to
obstruct a police officer

in the execution of his duty!
- Come on, Jesus!

Get me away from here.

That's just what we're gonna do.

Step aside, Sunshine,
the war's over, you lost.

Chapman Street Nick, I think, eh, George?

Look, if you take him,
I'll have to phone my office.

That's gonna mean trouble
for you, real trouble.

You do know what you're doing, do you?

[Jack] Oh, yeah, don't you
worry about me, Sunshine.

- In the car.
- No, we'll take our car.

- What's the point of that?
- We'll take our car!

(suspenseful music)

Move.

Uh, what's this charade
supposed to prove, Regan?

I'll tell you what it's
gonna prove, McQueen.

It's gonna prove that
even you are expendable.

(tense music)

- Hey, McQueen!
- Johnson, no!

(gun fires)

(dark abrasive tones)

They didn't kill him, you did!

(ominous tones)

(upbeat funk music)