All language subtitles for Hustle - 01x03 - Picture perfect.DVDRip.English.orig.Addic7ed.com

Good morning, my little furry friend.

Morning. Can I help you?

Morning. West London Dept. Of Sanitation.

You're probably aware
of the rodent infestation along this block?

- What are you talking about?
- Rats.

They can be discreet.

But they can damage your stock
as well as spreading nasty diseases.

We don't have any rats!
Let me see some ID, please.

We'll be fumigating till about 12:00.
I'd keep out of the way till then.

And keep this to yourselves.

Discretion is always the best policy
where business reputations are concerned.

Thank you.

All right, she'll be here any minute.

- Better make yourself scarce.
- Yeah.

- Good morning, Miss Gates.
- Morning.

- Is this it, then?
- Yeah.

Come in.

I'll come right to the point, Mr. Pomeroy.

You're a chancer. A beautiful chancer.

But nevertheless, you're a furniture mover.

What could you possibly know
about fine art?

Are you really going to pay £500,000 for it?

Yes, I am.

Okay, no, I'm not.

My ceiling's actually £250,000...

but I'm looking for a partner
who can match me.

You know, if this is genuine,
it could be worth several million.

I don't doubt that.

Right. So, we will view the painting
at my gallery together.

If I am satisfied,
then I will consider going 50-50 with you.

That's incredibly generous, Miss Gates.

I do warn you, I take some convincing.

Bye.

Yes, we're on.

No, I'm staying put in Belgravia.

Nurse, for the love of God, get rid of this!

Unbelievable.

- Does that woman ever shut up?
- Tell me about it.

What you got, Ernie?

- Not much.
- What's that? Nothing.

Full house. Winner takes all, mate.

Listen. You might want to consider
watching that tell of yours.

A tell is a little giveaway sign.
Lets me know what you're thinking.

Like when you've got a good hand,
you start clapping...

and roaring with laughter. Think about it.

- See you.
- Good luck.

Nurse!

I don't care what he thinks it's worth,
go to £100,000 and no more.

Right, I'm taking a walk.
Send the car for me.

Is that...

Rachel's lawyer. She wants a settlement.

- How much?
- I guess that's in the envelope.

Gonna pay?

Don't rush me.
I haven't even decided to open it yet.

Come on, what's the matter?

I don't know.

Something just doesn't feel right.

Mickey, there's a man outside
looking for us. Me and Ash.

Except he's Harry and I'm Gordon.

- When he comes in here, tell him I'm dead.
- And I'm in China.

Look, I don't know
who you're talking about, mate.

- Do you expect me to believe that?
- I'm sorry.

Excuse me.
You're looking for Harry and Gordon.

I knew I had the right place.
I think I deserve a word with them.

I'm sorry, but they're...

Don't tell me. Out of the country.

Marrakesh. For the trade fair.

Well, when they get back,
tell them "well done" from me.

They did me good. Very clever.

If they want to see
how clever they've been, here's my card.

It was while you were inside.

Yeah, we was bored of the small fish.

We made one call from here.
One ruddy call.

And Naveen gets an itemized phone bill
and he traces you.

That's Chapter One, boys.

No, it was sweet, Mickey.
The rag trade, but international.

The Rolex, the Jag.
Worked the whole thing up.

I looked like Rockefeller.

I roped in the mark, Naveen.

Has a T-shirt factory.

- You did that?
- Yeah.

We planned on £20,000,
but he wanted in for £50,000.

If we'd known he was in trouble,
we would have left him alone.

But he was acting the big man.

You took money from a desperate man.

Is that what we are? Muggers?

We thought he could afford to be fleeced.

We ripped him off in good faith.

This explains a lot
of what I've been feeling recently.

I think we're under a jinx.

Come on.

Why do we have codes, Ash?

Because it's a decent thing.

No, the decent thing is not to grift at all.

And we have a code
because bad behavior makes bad luck.

There's no jinx, mate.

Cut.

Maybe we did pick the wrong mark.

But it felt so good
to be the inside man again, Mickey.

You know, to feel that glow.

Receivers. You can practically smell them.

Rachel says I dragged her life
into the gutter.

I don't see it that way.

But taking a desperate man
for his last penny.

You always say
we have to live by our decision.

And can you live with this one?

One bag. And that's that.

It's all right, I'm a friend of the sculptor's.

Yeah. Impressive piece.

Impressive use of the blobs there.

I wonder what compelled him.

I think if you look
at the artist's earlier works...

it becomes obvious.

Earlier work? This is the only one.

He was 19 when he died.

I was thinking more of his childhood stuff.

You know, some of his early pieces
that he did in crayon.

Teasing.

What's it worth? £20,000.
I'll think about it anyway.

Of course, the Gates Gallery
is usually viewed by appointment.

- Are you one of her inner circle?
- No.

I just think that art is for everyone.

Not when everyone includes all
the poor struggling dealers and buyers...

- that she's ripped off over the years.
- How true.

Meredith Gates likes to keep mere mortals
at a safe distance.

Dali's sketches go for inflated prices
to satisfy vanity-driven eccentrics...

with no real art appreciation.

At least that's what I told him
before I paid him a third of their real value.

I've been hoping to write an article on her,
maybe even an exposé.

Just look at her.

The only reason she's opened
to the proles...

is because she wants maximum publicity
for her new Mondrians.

- God, you're not a friend of hers, are you?
- No.

I am after a Mondrian myself.

They're just for show.

Bea Watson, art journalist.

Daniel Pomeroy, collector.

You're not really after a Mondrian,
are you?

I mean,
Meredith would kill for another one.

That piece in the middle
she bought for £250,000.

Right. This is Piet Mondrian.

Born in Holland, 1872.

These are a few of his paintings.

Quite nice,
but they don't blow your bollocks off.

Suddenly in 1909...

in comes the hippy shit.

Few years later, this.

Pay attention at the back.
This is for your benefit.

Most people reckon
that Mondrian got all fired up...

after seeing an exhibition by Picasso...

and that's when he started
boshing out the psychedelic trees.

But there's a mystery involved.

Some claim that Mondrian was
playing around with abstract art...

before Picasso even had a sniff.

But because he was
such an unassuming bloke...

he kept it to himself...

and only went public after Picasso.

And do we know
what that would mean, class?

Mondrian could've invented
a new type of art...

but Picasso took all the glory.

Give that man an A-plus.

All right, so you've been to an art gallery
and read a book.

What's all this got to do with six figures?

Well, suppose the mystery was solved.

Supposing a painting was discovered
that was dated, say, 1902 or 1903...

- before Picasso invented...
- Cubism.

Before Picasso invented Cubism.

And say this painting was a Mondrian...

it would turn art history on its head.

Exactly. And it's not like
we gotta give them the Mona Lisa.

We've got the mark, okay?
Meredith Gates.

We've got the bait: Mondrian.

We fake the right painting,
and all we gotta tell her...

is how many noughts to put on the check.

Let's take a walk.

Have you heard of Icarus?

'Course I have.
He's a Bond villain, ain't he?

Icarus flew too close to the sun
and got burnt.

Well, Mickey, guys like me don't get burnt.

We get tanned.

And what if we're jinxed?

You talking about the grifter's jinx?

Albert getting strapped by that gangster,
then you picking up an extra bullet.

You know, we're not accountants, are we?

Shit happens.

No, it's a bad vibe.
I can feel it, and it's right on our heads.

I've told you before, boys,
Lara Croft is never gonna reply.

No, this is a website for art dealers
and antique buffs to swap stories.

I'm running an e-mail conversation
with meself.

In Dutch.

So what are your two fictional Dutchmen
talking about?

Mickey said no.

I know. We got two art dealers
gossiping about this new painting.

One guy says to the other one,
"Keep this to yourself."

Now if that don't create a buzz,
nothing will, will it?

So you wanna draw Meredith Gates
into this?

If word gets to her that there's
this mysterious new Mondrian out there...

then suddenly it'll be a lot better for us.

Marks are so much softer when they think
they're the ones doing the running.

And you think this will persuade Mickey
to go along with it?

There's no jinx.

When we pull this one off he'll see that.

He'll need a lot of persuading.

I know he will.

That's why I'm working on it.

Mr. Hook.

- Sorry to keep you waiting.
- Not at all.

And this must be...

Jeremiah Hook. Bea Watson, art journalist.

I'm not entirely sure
why I'm here, Mr. Hook.

Don't tell me you're here
under false pretenses.

- There you go. I took the liberty.
- Yes, you did.

I can't stay long.

I've got a piece to deliver to Art World
magazine and I can't upset the editor.

Okay, let's cut straight to the chase.

Mr. Hook is
an international antiques dealer.

He's recently come into possession
of a small oil.

What sort of oil?

Well, it was signed by Piet Mondrian,
dated 1902.

There's a buzz about a new work
on the Internet.

Can I see it?

Do you have it here in town?

What you could do for us, Bea,
is authenticate it.

And in return I'd give you exclusive rights.

To what?

I may buy this painting.

It is small but it is significant.

I certainly could interest
a few gallery publications.

But I'm sorry,
I wouldn't describe an early Mondrian...

as all that significant to the wider world.

I have to go.

So do I. Forget we had this meeting.

There's no story here.
I'm sorry to have wasted your time.

What do you mean, there's no story here?

- Just that.
- Actually...

- there is a story.
- Actually, there isn't a story.

It's more than just a regular landscape,
isn't it?

Of course not. 1902? No.

All right, Mr. Hook.

If you change your mind...

Sorry. I really have to go.

- Bye.
- Bye-bye.

Hello.

How did you know I'd turn up?

Because I scented the invite.

Did you have to go and gut the whole plan
like a kipper?

Did you not just see what happened there?

Waiter.

She wasn't interested until she thought
that I wasn't interested.

Now she's intrigued.

Sorry, we can't drink this. It's sour.

Remember, Tip Jones is the best forger
in the business...

but I trust him about as far
as I can throw a horsebox.

He plays mind games.
He'll have you chasing your own tail.

He's got a brain like a steel trap.

There we go.

Well, you hear about people
reacting badly to anesthetic, don't you?

Hernia op.

Bloody tragic.

I'm Mickey Stone.

- We're out of here.
- Wait.

What for?

If we stay any longer,
he's gonna sing I'm a Little Teapot...

and he's gonna poop in his hand.

The show is over, Tip.

We're here on serious business.

If you do this job right,
you're in for £100,000.

So stop playing silly buggers.

£150,000. Take it or leave it.

...belonged to the Venus de Milo.

Going out to Texas next week.

So this gallery owner's
trying to get me on a forgery rap.

Forgery? Moi?

I don't forge, I clone.

Anyhow, the whole trial's redundant
if I can't stand.

Hence the performance.

So what do you think
of this Mondrian scam?

Pre-Picasso. Very cute.

Total cobblers, of course.
You wouldn't fool Saatchi's pet gerbil.

But I thought you were good.

Forgeries are generally sold
to wealthy idiots.

Movie stars, Japanese fishing barons
who never bother...

to get them checked out.

You want to flog a fake Mondrian
to Meredith Gates...

a leading Mondrian collector.

Okay. What do you need?

A dozen Italian horsehair brushes,
sizes 4 to 9.

Reconstituted canvas circa the period.

Not that that will get us
around the carbon-dating.

Yes, and an original.

Come on. We can get you a print.

I got pictures in books.

I need to smell, caress, taste.

I need a real Mondrian sitting beside me.

After all, you're talking about
originating a new piece.

This has to be perfect.

Hold on. Calm down.

Can you hold on to that, please?

- Sit there.
- That was a shambles.

Now get me Miss Gates.
I need to speak with her at once.

What? She's in Bristol.

Well, get her on the phone.

A man walks into your gallery
and lifts a valuable painting off the wall.

Why wasn't it bolted down?
Where's your laser protection?

I've seen garden centers
with better security.

- There's the cameras...
- What's the downtime on the Mondrians?

Those paintings must be out of shot
for, what, 30 seconds?

Only 20, as it goes.

Who are you?

Debonair Security Assessments.
As you may be aware...

there's been some recent theft attempts
on London galleries.

The Arts Council asked us to check
what measures you have in place...

for insurance purposes.

We have the X-ray machines,
and all the frames are tagged.

You don't tag the canvases?

No. Miss Gates' instructions.
No one tampers with the paintings.

Look, I think I'd better call Miss Gates.

Yeah, recall her from Bristol early.

She won't be annoyed, will she?

Just tell me one thing.

We did all right, didn't we?

Gents, it is not often
that a Debonair assessor is impressed...

but this one just learnt the meaning
of the word "humility."

Here's the period canvas you asked for.

This is for you.

It won't pass close scrutiny
but it should do the job for the swap.

Good. I'll be back with the original.

One, please.

Rest of my party are on the coach.

- Party?
- Mondrian Appreciation Society.

All right.

I don't know if it's the economy of form
or the elegance of his asymmetry...

but he sets me alight. Is that crazy?

What's this?

That is the visitors' record.
Sign it, if you like.

I'll sign it. I'll sign right now.

To you, free.

Thank you. That is so kind of you.

We handle these Mondrians all the time.

It's another day at the office, really.

Stop it.

I like that crazy Dutch Neo-Plasticist.

You're right.

They're kind of late, don't you think?

- Where are the loos? I'm peeing my pants.
- Right this way.

- Behind you. Straight through.
- Thanks.

See you.

Wait. Where are you off to?

What do you mean?

What about your coach party?

Wouldn't be the same.

I like things a little more one-to-one.

Know what I mean? Bye.

For future reference, it's a good idea
when transporting a painting like this...

to use a muslin bag. Non-abrasive.

You gotta help me rearrange this place.
Tables there. Chairs in a row.

Mondrian believed in order. So must I.

It really does it for you, doesn't it? Art.

Doesn't it for you?

Listen, mate. My mum had a painting.

Got it out of The Mail on Sunday. Massive.

- A lot of dogs playing snooker.
- Brushes?

- These need to be distressed in vinegar.
- Already done.

And here are the oils you asked for.
High lead content as requested.

Got them off the Net.
Different suppliers for each tube.

You asked for five tins of pilchards. Why?

It's a beach scene,
so I took a trip to Brighton.

Here's your pot of seawater.

And here, I thought
if he was painting on a beach...

the sand would have gotten caught
on the sticky canvas.

In 11 days...

an original Mondrian from 1902
will be in your possession.

It will, for a brief time,
fool the greatest art experts in the world...

and it will dethrone Picasso
as the father of modern art.

Or it will be spotted immediately
and we'll all go to prison for several years.

- May I take these matches?
- Yeah, sure.

Hi. Sorry.

I'm so glad you called.

I'm sorry about the other day.
I was a bit hasty.

You can't be too careful.

Tell me,
was this piece uncovered in Amersfoort?

Let's get some drinks.

Come on. Amersfoort.

Excuse me. Could I have a cranberry juice
and a Sea Breeze for the lady?

A town in central Holland,
Mondrian's birthplace.

Yes, it would have been nice
if it had been uncovered...

in Mondrian's hometown. But alas, not.

Do you have a photo?

No, I carry nothing with me.

But I cannot stress
the explosive significance of this find.

I've been thinking about that.

Could this be a piece
from the Spanish expedition?

Why do you say that?

Hang fire. We're on to it.

Albert.

The Great Spanish Exhibition of 1921.

The Great Spanish Exhibition of 1921.

No, I'm talking about
Mondrian's trip to Spain.

- Of course.
- Expedition.

What a deaf cretin.

Hurry up. He's sitting there like a lemon.

Hold on.

Mr. Hook, you're leaving me dangling.

You think that this piece heralds
from the trip Mondrian took to Spain...

with his best friend Simon Maris in 1901.

"As you know, no writing..."

...or painting remains from that trip.

"Possible, though,
that he might have met Picasso."

Do you think he may have
met Picasso out there?

I knew it!

You've uncovered an abstract Mondrian
that predates Cubism.

I have a small painting
that needs verification.

I would like an expert journalist
on hand to assist.

The wider world will have to be convinced.

And they will be. In an exclusive.

Why me?

Why pick a fledgling writer?

You're not a cynic.

You have no axe to grind.

And you strike me
as being open to adventure.

Just you wait.
You wait until you can see it and touch it.

- When?
- Very soon.

You do believe me, don't you?

Actually, I do.

Nobody does it better.

- Makes me feel sad for the rest.
- Yeah, right.

Sorry, Stacie.

You already knew about
Meredith Gates' interest, didn't you?

Did I?

I know Mr. Pomeroy is keen to buy it.

He's seeing Miss Gates today.
Now, in fact. He told me.

Well, he may be looking
for a buying partner.

He's dancing with a scorpion there.

I have to go.

Your bill, sir.

My friends are picking up the tab.

So you went to see Meredith Gates
behind my back?

All I did was froth her up a bit, you know.

I told her I was gonna buy the painting
for £500,000.

You know, just take a gamble on it.
She got all agitated.

I'm telling you, Mickey...

when we're ready
to show Meredith this painting...

she's gonna be so jazzed about it...

she's gonna snap it up
for £500,000 minimum...

just to swipe it from under my nose.

Seems this meeting has been
all for the good.

Yes, definitely. Very good.

There is
a teensy-weensy problem, though.

Meredith thinks I run
an import-export company in West Ken.

And she's coming over tomorrow at 11:00
with her decision.

Good morning, my little furry friend.

Rats.

- Good morning, Miss Gates.
- Morning.

Are you really going to pay £500,000 for it?

My ceiling's actually £250,000...

but I'm looking for a partner
who can match me.

You know, if this is genuine,
it could be worth several million.

Despite appearances,
Mr. Hook is not a wealthy man.

And if it does turn out
to be worth millions...

I think it's only right that he gets a cut.

Mr. Hook will only get what we give him.

If he wants any more,
he can burn up his £500,000...

chasing me through the courts.

Right. So, we will view the painting
at my gallery together.

If I am satisfied,
then I will consider going 50-50 with you.

That's incredibly generous, Miss Gates.

So you'll arrange this meeting
with Mr. Hook?

Sure. I've also invited a journalist,
Bea Watson.

I thought if this thing's genuine,
we should bang the drum.

Only if it's good news.

Bye.

Yes, we're on.

We are so far from the jackpot.

Any time you wanna give me
some encouragement, just feel free.

This is not a club.

You're not earning a scouting badge
for Grifting Grade 4.

We are taking a person down
for a lot of money.

And we have so many hoops
to jump through...

not least of which
is a painting we haven't seen yet...

painted by a man we can't trust.
And we are also art thieves.

- Cool.
- It is not cool, Danny!

We're not crooks. We're miners.

We mine people's greed.
And these people can be dangerous.

All I'm saying is that
given our current form...

I'm not about to start
letting off champagne corks.

Then why do it if you don't believe in it?

Because we need the money.

- What do you need the money for?
- You'll see.

Will I like it?

Come on, we've got a lot of work to do.

The painting will be ready
in just one week.

- All right, how am I looking?
- Beautiful.

Okay, so how about a good-luck kiss?

Let's go.

Where's Meredith?

I hope you don't mind me
bringing my godchildren along.

They're on their way
to a sixth birthday party.

The theme is Renaissance.

Off you go and play.

They grow up so fast, don't they?

Cheeky little fellows, aren't they?

Where's the painting?

Mr. Hook is bringing it even as we speak.

Come on.

Pilchards!
What is this thing with pilchards?

- Hello.
- Good, you found the key.

- Where's the painting?
- Silver case, top of the cupboard.

Excuse me.

What the hell is going on?

Mr. Pomeroy's assistant. Oh, Mr. Hook.

I've got the case, but it's locked.

There's no way to open it
without a detonator.

That's no problem. Hang on a minute.

Hello.

We need a code to get into the case.

Yeah? You can relax on that.
I've got that right here.

- Text it to me.
- Absolutely.

Right.

Albert, we're running late. Where are you?

In position. Don't worry about us,
just do your job, son.

Right.

You did bring your half?

Yeah, ma'am. Banker's draft for £250,000...

right here.

Two minutes, I'm leaving.

That's it. I'm leaving.
Come along, my cherubs.

Sorry.

Sorry to have kept
you good people waiting.

Traffic was awful.

Is this it?

- Excited?
- Yes, indeed.

This case is security-coded
and I have the code...

here on my phone.

Signed Piet Mondrian, 1902.

It's in a style
he wasn't supposed to employ until...

Years later.

There's quite a bit of dust
embedded in the top layer.

Picture has a smell.

Fishy. Rank. Decay.

Bears many of the hallmarks
that Mondrian used later on...

but it's interesting.
There's a hesitancy about it.

Almost like an artist trying
something very new and scaring himself.

My God.

Well, if it's not a fake...

then "My God," indeed.

This is only an initial assessment,
of course...

but it would appear that this work
bears the traits of a Mondrian...

painted at the turn of the century.

But this picture was painted
on a fine-quality canvas.

Mondrian wouldn't have wasted
a top canvas on experimental work...

that was unlikely to sell.

He may have done.

The man was meticulous
and he was frugal.

Most of his work was done on cardboard.

Perhaps it was a commission.

A commission?

Nobody would have paid
for something like this back then.

Anyway, if it was a commission,
we'd have records.

It would seem, Mr. Hook,
that the circus is over.

What if he was hired
to paint something traditional...

so he splashed out on a good canvas,
but the commission fell through...

so he reused it?

- The canvas.
- Yeah.

I like the sound of that.

Follow me.

If what you say is correct, Miss Watson,
then there should be another painting...

hidden underneath here somewhere.

Nothing.

As far as I'm concerned, you can burn it.

Wait. If I adjust the resolution...

A pentimento!

A hidden landscape underneath. You see?

When the commission fell through,
Mondrian must have been furious.

He vented his frustration
in something radical.

A beach scene like no other, ever.

Mr. Hook...

I will give you £500,000 right now, in cash.

Sorry. What about my half?

In cash, Mr. Hook.

I might get five times that at auction.

If it's genuine.

You still don't think so?

Put it this way.
I'm persuaded to take a risk.

But only if I have sole possession.

I've a banker's draft here for £250,000!

Mr. Hook, do we have a deal?

Don't you dare.

Deal.

I've played a blinder, I'm telling you.

Even when Meredith discovers it's a fake...

she's not gonna want to do anything
about it.

There's no way she'd want her name
splashed all over the papers.

So, minus Tip's fee and other expenses,
we're looking at...

£60,000 each.

That dream beach-house of mine
is starting to look a lot closer.

I can't believe you went
for all that bad karma shit, Mickey.

A man creates his own luck
in this world, son.

£150,000.

Ta very much,
but I'll take the lot, if you don't mind.

What?

Right now a friend of mine
is waiting to call the police.

They will tell the cops a Mondrian
has been stolen from the Gates Gallery.

They will give them your names.

The cops will arrest you.
They will find said painting.

You will go to prison.

And what is more, your identities
will be blown by the national press.

That will make it very hard for you
to pull off any more cons...

in sophisticated society.

But there is salvation.

Give me the half mil,
the call is never made.

Do you ever shut up, Tip?

You've got all these fine things
around you.

You've got all your clever talk
and all your yap.

But you know what you are?
You're just a tosser.

Caravaggio was a vicious queen.

Michelangelo shagged little boys.

Bacon was an alcoholic.

And Gauguin married a 13-year-old girl.
Welcome to the art world.

Just like your world, Danny. We are
merely cockroaches with good tailors.

So who is this friend of yours
that's gonna call the cops then, Tip?

I don't think you need to know.

Easy.

You can learn a lot from Mickey.
He knows how to behave.

I certainly do.

Ten seconds, I reckon.

Ten seconds. Until what?

I called them earlier...

and I think I just heard
a car pull up outside.

- 3, 2, 1...
- What is this?

D.S. Martins, Fraud Squad.

Yes, come in, officer.

You remember me, don't you, Mr. Jones?

We've had a call from a neighbor.

He says he saw you walking in the park,
Mr. Jones.

Now, what with our investigation
under suspension on medical grounds...

we felt it best to pop down here
and have a little chat.

We'll be off then.

Bye-bye, Mr. Jones. Nice to see you.

Lot of money here, sir.

Yes. Nothing to do with us.

- You knew he was gonna turn.
- I was pretty sure.

- We could have lost the lot.
- I told you, flying close to the sun.

But Tip can still turn us in
with that painting.

What's she doing here?

Very clever. Give them back.

Danny, this is the person
who calls the cops...

and tells them
where to find a stolen Mondrian.

Forgers often use students
to fence their forgeries.

She's a grifter?

I'm a serious arts writer, thank you.

Where did you meet Tip?

At college.
That's where they usually recruit.

Everyone at college knew Tip.

After you visited him, Tip called me...

and we sort of came up with this.

Great. So what happens now?

How about you keep your money...

and I'll hang on to the Mondrian.

No, the Mondrian has to go back.
That's the way we work.

Well, it's not the way I work.

Well, if you can live with that...

What are you doing here?

- How'd it go, boys?
- Not bad.

Don't! You all right?

Don't worry, it was my fault.
I stepped out in front of you.

I didn't even see you.

Can't bend me leg. I landed awkward.

It never happened to me before.

Look at that, I can move it.
Don't worry, love, I'll be fine.

Yeah, it was nice working the flop again.

So how did you know she was lying?

At the cocktail bar.

You do believe me, don't you?

She revealed a tell.

Actually, I do.

I double-checked it.

Excited?

The throat-slash. A classic tell.

Yes, indeed.

Usually associated with feelings of guilt.

So you double-guessed the double-cross.

I just took out some insurance.

Well, take away the expenses...

we've still got over £300,000 in the pot.

£200,000.
£100,000 is going somewhere else.

Where?

No, no way. You can't.

I'm sorry. But if we don't,
this man loses everything because of us.

And that'll jinx us forever.

You don't believe all this crap,
do you, Ash?

We gotta do it, Danny.

- Stace?
- Let it go, Danny.

Look, £100,000 pays Naveen back
and makes amends.

Danny, we're not thieves.

Danny, come on.

This was my grift, all right?

You should've told me.

You're right. I'm sorry.

Okay, Danny,
you decide what happens next.

Danny, come on.

Only please make sure
whatever decision you make...

you can live with.

Because what's done is done.

As you know, the receivers are in.

...so sorry, everyone.

Bollocks. It's only money, isn't it?

Anyway, I've got a great new idea.

Right, clear your minds, picture this:

We've got half of a cow,
a small Shetland pony...

- and some embalming...
- Tell me later.

I'm glad this silly matter is settled.
Come on, I'm buying. My round.

That envelope from Rachel's lawyer.

Did you ever open it?

Yeah. I've decided to pay her off.

- Jinx lifted?
- Well...

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