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Michael Clarke.

This is an initiation. Not yours.

Mine.

PC Plod in the driver's seat is one of ours.

Corrupt little pig.

Today, we go from hooligans to fucking gang members,

and the price of that ticket is two dead cops.

You... and our friend in the driver's seat.

I've seen you at our games, beating on my boys.

You look like you're enjoying yourself.

"Hooligan in uniform," I believe the papers called you.

Well, now it's time to give a bit back.

Oh, don't take it personally, mate.

Don't worry, I'll let your wife know that you were crying

as your head hit the fucking concrete.

She's dead.

(banging)

(shouting)

Mate, they paid me off! They paid me off!

- I'm sorry! - You fool!

I'm fucking sorry!

- Sorry. - They were gonna kill you too.

(driver groans)

Oi, mate, stay still. It'll make it easier.

Your pig mate will be dead soon too.

- The ultimate irony, innit? - What?

You lot, for you to feel like real men.

You spend most of your time acting like complete cunts.

- Outnumbered. - That's what they said.

- (man screams) - This your boy, is it?

(bone snaps)

(man screams)

(sirens approach)

- Don't let that stop you, boys. - It's the fucking pigs!

Clarke.

I'm Chief Inspector Hawkins.

What am I doing in here?

It's for your own protection,

but there's no need for that now. Come with me.

By my count, it was eight against one.

Low-level hooligans looking for their sacrificial lamb;

in this case, you.

Where's Harris?

He's in hospital with the others.

We'll file charges.

Seven police officers in as many months killed by hooligans.

What starts on the terraces ends up as organized criminality

and they all want a piece of it.

Think it a badge of honor.

Yet here you are, Mr. Clarke, a survivor.

Took me a while to dig up your files.

Been on compassionate leave.

Your wife... Think yourself a bit of a hero, do you?

Thrill-seeking?

You know what I think, Clarke? It takes one to know one.

Hooligan in uniform, wasn't that what the papers called you?

Itching for a fight?

I need people like you, Clarke.

My superiors have doubted my idea,

think you don't have the temperament for it,

but I won't have you waste your talents, piss your life away.

- For what? - Undercover.

This is the long game, Clarke.

I need officers to infiltrate and gather evidence.

When I've shown you these files, you'll need to decide.

Technically, I cannot ask you to endanger yourself or order you

to undertake what I'm asking. You must volunteer.

Terence Turner, aka Uno or Numero Uno, the number one.

I believe he's the head of a criminal organization

responsible for football violence,

organized bare-knuckle fights, illegal gambling,

drug import and export, human trafficking and murder.

You name it, if it's illegal

and they can make money out of it, they probably will.

This guy is the catch.

That's the last time we saw Terence Turner.

He put 17 people in hospital, drew a lot of heat.

There was a warrant out for his arrest but then,

like a ghost, he was gone.

We think he left England,

began to build a criminal empire overseas, but now he's back

and we haven't been able to touch him thus far.

He's got police on his payroll,

and they hemorrhage information left, right and center.

So you can understand my need for secrecy in this case.

Those low-level thugs you encountered today

would have been new members of his gang were it not for you.

I've figured out various ways to infiltrate his organization,

but until the time is right,

everything must look completely on the level

and today, you put a fair few men in hospital.

You'll be expelled from the force

and sent to prison for GBH.

No cover story?

It's too dangerous. This has got to look real.

Now's your chance, Clarke, to do something important,

something that matters... make her proud.

I'll call on you when the time's right.

(indistinct) ...of grievous bodily harm with intent

which carries a maximum penalty of life imprisonment,

for which you have pleaded guilty.

You have no previous convictions.

Due to your excellent record of service to the police force,

you have been convicted following trial

to serving four years in prison. (voice becomes clearer)

Is there anything you would like to state for the record?

Can I go?

(screams)

(woman cries)

Get it done.

I'll let your brother deal with this one.

It's his mess.

(she sighs)

Fine.

(lock clanks)

(taps phone keys)

- (phone rings) - (indistinct voice)

(whispers) Sir, it's Baker.

Does he look like the marrying type?

"Will you marry me?

I'd love you to come and meet my mother."

Not one of my best lines but it worked on her.

As for my mother, well, you can say hello to her in passing.

She's up there somewhere.

Put her out of her misery.

No!

No!

(gunshot)

MAN: Where are you?

(whispers) I'm at 101 container yard on the docks.

I've just heard gunshots.

I've just checked, there's an abandoned unit.

Number 37. Make your way there.

I'll be there in 20 minutes.

You can do this.

OK.

This is Chief Inspector Hawkins.

I need to speak to Ingham about a prisoner transfer immediately.

(man answers indistinctly)

It's your lucky day, mate. You're being transferred.

Well, I say lucky day, it's more like

out of the frying pan and into the fire, really.

(door unlocks)

Up you get.

(distant alarm)

Stay down.

I'm sorry, sir.

There's nothing to be sorry about, Baker.

The other young lady has already been identified.

Tatiana Gorecki, shot twice through the chest.

Oh, fuck.

(vomits)

Effects of the adrenaline wearing off.

- What are we gonna do? - We've come too far to stop now.

I'll drop you at my house,

then I'll pick up Clarke. We need to brief him ASAP.

Who's Clarke?

I'll tell you about him on the way. Keep your head down.

HAWKINS: Key's in the back door. I won't be long.

Clean yourself up.

Thank you, gentlemen, I'll take it from here.

So, what's your plan to get me in?

Mark Griffith, he's the number two.

Always looking to recruit fresh blood, new talent.

People with the right kind of attitude, the right skill set.

Do you know him? Have you heard of him?

I know the name. I've never seen him, though.

We need hard evidence to bring these bastards to justice.

Tell me more about this Griffith.

He runs a bare-knuckle boxing match every two weeks.

That's where he recruits. You need to gain his trust.

And how exactly am I meant to do that?

Says here in your file you speak some Polish. Is that right?

(speaks Polish)

You've been inside long enough, Clarke.

No one will doubt the credibility of your story now.

MICHAEL: So who am I looking at now?

James Goodall, takes the bets at all the boxing matches.

Slippery character.

We installed some cameras to watch his movements.

Griffith trusts him with the money.

Turns out Goodall doesn't trust banks.

Swap the real money for this fake,

then prove yourself a man of acute perception

in front of the right people.

So, you want me to give it some front

and hope they're impressed? What if that doesn't work?

You'll be dead.

So, when do you want me to do this?

Fight's tomorrow, so right now.

Keep your phone on you.

we can use it as a microphone and tracker,

so get as close as you can to the people involved.

We'll know where you are even when you don't.

You're on your own from here on.

So what's new?

Only report back when you have hard evidence.

Something that thus far we've found difficult to acquire.

We want the man at the top, nothing less, do you understand?

(shouting)

What the fuck are you doing? What the fuck?

- He's ripped me off. - He's lying.

Check his pockets.

I never seen that cunt before. Don't fucking listen to him.

- What the fuck? - Shut up!

MICHAEL: So... Check it.

You see the thing is, I don't know who you are.

I'm trying to do you a fucking favor.

You're fucking wasting my time. These look fine to me.

Yeah? Then you're a cunt too, then.

It doesn't matter if you win or fucking lose,

he's taking real money and swapping it for fake.

You sure about that, are you?

Check the water markings.

Those water-markings make a pound sign.

That note hasn't got a pound sign.

- MAN: I've never seen him... - Shut up!

Fucking hell, he's right and all. You're in the shit, son!

- MAN: He's lying. - It's alright, let him go.

- MAN: Please, I swear! - Let him go.

- (man screams) - What's your name?

Word gets about, mate.

Michael Clarke, that's who I am and you lot are fucking mugs.

Alright. Let him go.

(knocking at door)

(knocking at door)

(banging on door)

Here we go.

- Michael Clarke. - Who's asking?

Do you know who I am?

Jehovah's Witnesses?

(chuckles)

Funny cunt, ain't he?

This your wife?

Yeah.

- Sorry to hear. - Really?

I wouldn't wish that on anyone.

What, marriage?

Well, it's good to see you kept your sense of humor. Tragic.

- Like his dress sense, eh? - MAN 2: Hmm.

Come on, I'll sort you out. I'm buying.

Come on, mate, get up.

So, not a cop anymore?

No, but I'm guessing you already knew that.

So, what are you doing now, then?

Other than being an ex-con who likes a row.

You could say that.

- I might have something for you. - Oh, yeah, like what?

Not strictly legal.

Don't know if you've heard but I don't strictly give a fuck.

Well, I gathered that.

I was talking to a few boys from my old firm.

You like a ruck on the terraces, don't you?

What was it? "Hooligan in a uniform."

Look, I could use a bloke like you, know what I mean?

Someone who's no stranger to crime, so to speak.

I've got no love for the pigs, mate, not anymore.

Except for these ones, of course.

Your wife was Polish, wasn't she?

- Yeah. - Speak a bit?

A bit.

You still wear the band?

You gonna sit here and flirt all morning

or are you gonna tell me what the fuck you want?

Earn a crust, live on a little bit more

than that Job Seeker's Allowance you're getting at the moment.

I've checked your postbox.

You don't look like a bloke who's got any savings

or a future.

You ain't even got that shit pension

and a thank-you and a fuck-off from the Met now, have you?

Hmm?

All you've got is a parole board

up your arse for the next three years.

I'm offering you a job. Cash in hand, though.

- "No income tax, no VAT." - "No money back, no guarantee."

Come on! What are you gonna be doing?

Security?

You do that for a week, you'll get bored.

Drink your tea and I'll show you.

You sound like my mother.

Oh, funny you should say that, that's how I got your address.

(muffled shouting)

Right, now you're gonna tell us

what you've done with our shipment.

- Gavin. Michael Clarke. - Charmed.

MAN: Let me out! I didn't trust those other guys you sent along.

I didn't feel right about it.

Well, that wasn't your call to make, was it?

Plus you fob us off with pony currency.

There's a lot of that about at the moment,

and you're putting ideas in the girls' heads,

ideas above their station.

Now, you know how Uno is about that, OK?

He likes everything in its place.

MAN: I'm sorry, I wanted to show those girls a good time.

Well, not with our drugs, you don't.

We need to keep our ventures separate.

Can't go getting delusions of grandeur, mate,

especially not for a fucking woman.

- (gunshots) - MAN: Stop! Please! Please!

Now, tell us where you stashed the weed

and we'll forget all former transgressions.

It's in the back of the white Jag in the lock-up in Bow.

- The yard? - Yeah.

So, what was the plan?

Were you gonna sell it on, make a profit?

Honestly, I didn't think that far ahead, I swear.

You didn't have a plan and you didn't think we'd find out?

You gave up the info pretty quickly. You know what they say.

Loose lips sink ships.

(gunshot, screaming)

Alright, into the drink.

- (sobs) - Speaking of drink.

- How much is there? - A lot.

Successful night, then, I'd say.

So... Uno?

Yeah, my old man, he'll be well happy.

Check it. If it's real, it's yours.

Cause for celebration. Let's go and see my sister.

(thudding music)

WOMAN: New recruit?

Well, he hopes. Dad might not like him.

Got any new girls for me yet?

Still working on it.

(groans)

Michael Clarke. Meet my sister, Karolina.

- Nice to meet you. - (groans) Fuck!

(indistinct)

Uno's downstairs. He's with some new girl,

but it didn't work out, so I'd knock first.

It's such a pity, she was nice.

- They always struggle. - (knocking at door)

I don't like it when they look at me.

You heard me say it, didn't you? "Don't look at me."

Get somebody to dispose of her, will you?

Yes, come in.

- How did Drake go? - GRIFFITH: Yeah, dealt with.

Yeah. This is Michael Clarke, think he could be useful for us.

And of what use could you be to us, Mr. Clarke?

Whatever you need.

You're eager to please.

So what do you know about our operation?

Not much, really. I'm still trying to work it out.

Do you wanna keep it that way or do you want to join the club?

Lots of members' benefits.

Choose your answer carefully because when you're in...

...you're in.

Now, with Mr. Drake gone, we have an opening,

so the timing would seem somewhat serendipitous.

Now, if you'll excuse me...

...I'm going home.

My evening didn't turn out as planned.

A word, Mr. Griffith.

He's a good man.

- Is he? - He's got brains.

Oh, yeah?

Good. Sure?

Yeah, pretty much.

So, I'm gonna take your word for it, am I?

You're gonna vouch for him, are you?

Yeah, yeah.

So, what's he do?

Well, he was a copper. But he's been thrown out for GBH.

- A copper? - Yeah.

Are you out of your tiny fucking mind?

Do you remember that "hooligan in a uniform"? Well, that's him.

So, how the fuck can we trust him, then?

I'll sort it. I'll look after him.

You better, 'cause if you don't,

I'll cut your balls off and feed them to you

like I did to that nice young Romanian gentleman.

- Do you remember that one? - Yeah, I remember.

Yeah, keep that one in mind. Ta-ra.

Right, then, give us your phone. Phone.

Stop fucking about. Jesus.

Here you go.

Right, then, I'll give you a bell tomorrow,

make sure you're available, alright? Oh.

And this used to be Drake's.

But he won't be needing it anymore, will he?

See you tomorrow.

You boys don't give up, do you?

Nice and calm.

Welcome back, Mr. Clarke.

Mr. Griffith is reputed to have a good sense for people,

but I like to see for myself.

Judge a person's true colors with my own eyes.

Are you a policeman?

(gasps)

See, perhaps you're operating under the assumption

that you've got nothing to lose.

And therefore being brash and courageous

would suit such a circumstance.

But no.

Most people,

even those who think they have nothing...

...always have some little thing they're holding on to.

Unless they truly are insane.

You strike me as being of sound mind, Mr. Clarke...

...so allow me to elucidate the point.

Your wife died. This much we know.

Terrible, tragic accident,

perhaps putting you into a downward spiral.

That much I would understand.

Pain will change a man, but do you have nothing to lose?

What about your mother, your sister?

Two very good reasons to live... and much to lose.

Especially if splayed out in front of you

with their skin taken off.

So, I ask you again, because I need to be sure I can trust you,

are you a policeman?

I'm not, I swear.

On your mother's life?

I swear.

Welcome aboard, Mr. Clarke.

Let him down.

I've told some of my new recruits

that their hooligan credentials would be in serious question

if they didn't take advantage of this opportunity.

This way, we can see if you're worth holding on to.

MICHAEL: Fucking hell, how old are you boys?

Shouldn't you be at home doing your homework?

Good one, old man. See how funny you think you are

when I shove this bat up your arse. (groans)

Do yourself a favor and fuck off.

(coughs)

- So... - What are you doing here?

We need to know what you know now.

They're gonna kill my whole family for what I'm doing,

- so I'm off to a flying start. - What have you found?

They've got quite a set-up. Drugs, guns, protection.

They've got a lot of muscle as well.

They've got set-ups all over the place, they're everywhere.

What about the women?

Nothing like that yet. I've got a feeling it's coming.

I'm already completely fucked, I'm exhausted.

(phone)

Answer it.

- GRIFFITH: Clarke? - Yeah?

I need you with me tonight.

We're having trouble with these cunts.

I've got a job before the next shipment comes in,

then I'll grab you at ten.

Make sure you're ready, alright?

Yeah, no worries, mate, I'll be there.

OK.

Figure out a way to get what we need, Clarke,

or we'll all be out of our fucking jobs soon enough.

MICHAEL: What does he expect me to do?

Bring Terence Turner down in a few hours?

I think he's taken quite a lot of shit

for choosing you for this.

Now, we're setting up a new safe house.

We'll meet there next time. It's not safe for us to meet...

- Well, when I say "us," I mean... - I know what you mean.

You're not doing this on your own, you know.

I'm sorry I can't be there with you but I failed.

You didn't fail.

That depends on who you talk to.

I just wanted to help those women.

Yeah, well, fuck what anyone else thinks.

They weren't there, were they? They weren't in that situation.

Just be careful, if you can.

Did you go for your medical?

Yeah. Two fractured ribs and a bruised hip, had a few x-rays.

Gotta go back in a couple of days for some more.

You know, if you ever need me,

you got my number, you know where I am.

Clarke, I've been listening in all fucking night.

What about that?

(chuckles) It's a birth mark.

Oh, sorry! It's quite cute.

Fuck off.

Alright? Michael Clarke, Andy, Andy, Clarkey.

Come on, you can eat that in there. Go on.

MICHAEL: Who the fuck are you, then?

ANDY: I should ask you the same fucking question.

Gun for hire, mate, that's all you need to know.

Get paid, fuck off.

Fair enough, as long as you know what you're doing.

Yeah, simple enough. Give us your phone. I'll show you.

What? Why?

Give us your phone, you fucking fanny. I'll give it back to you.

Right...

- (phone rings) - That's fucking impressive.

'Ere, pass me that foil.

(ringing stops)

- Shit. - What?

We've lost the signal.

Blocks the signal. It's called a Faraday cage.

How's that work, then?

Well, the metal blocks the signal.

Apparently, those sneaky cunts have been escaping,

getting help from the outside, hiding fucking phones...

(whistles) ...up their arses and Uno's not very happy about it,

so we sorted him out some cable

so he can build his own Faraday cage, only much bigger,

so he can control the signals and keep his people in check.

So they can't use their phones.

Well, not while they're working in this room for Uno, no.

Imagine this room covered in foil,

only not foil, cable lattice. Works both ways, and all.

You want to keep info secure, you can do that too.

The boss man must be paranoid enough to make sure

no fucker wants to Facebook his bum-chum on the outside

or leave a trail full of digital breadcrumbs.

How much fucking cable are you gonna need for that?

That, my friend, is why they pay me the big bucks.

I had a measure-up yesterday. We need about six miles.

Six miles?

Fuck.

What has he got them doing in there, anyway?

You'll find out soon enough.

You know how to use one of these?

I think so.

I'll take that as a yes, then.

Oh... Can you monitor the police frequency?

Cut through all that fucking bollocks they speak, yeah?

- You got it, then? - Here you go. Hey, presto.

You alright? You good, yeah?

Go on. Do a scan, off you go.

Oi, you see anything, get back to me quick, alright?

Why couldn't we just buy it, Andy?

If you've got a spare 700 grand, then fair enough.

You want no questions asked, then this is the best method.

(radio crackles)

RADIO: Silent alarm activated at Longshore Industrial Park.

I need a unit there immediately.

MICHAEL: Fuck.

- How long's this gonna take? - As long as it takes.

All night, then. I got a good consignment on its way.

I thought you enjoyed getting your pick of the litter.

Yeah, more than this shit, anyway.

Now, if you don't want a bullet in the back of the head,

I suggest you stay still.

- Where's your partner? - Still in the car.

Don't do anything stupid.

There are some very serious people here

who would not think twice about putting a hole in you.

- Do you understand? - Yeah.

- You got a family? - Yes, I have.

- Well, think about them. - Please.

Listen, go back to your vehicle,

you speak to your partner, you give them the all-clear.

You radio in that all-clear. I'll be listening.

Then you drive away, do you understand me?

Tonight is your lucky night, mate.

I've got your badge number.

Don't turn around!

ANDY: I mean, half the time, it ain't bad.

- What are they doing? - I don't know.

They interfere every time, don't they?

- You a footie man? - Yes, mate.

- Well, what team? - I'm Luton Town, mate.

Fuck me! You are a glutton for punishment.

Drop me out at The Nag's Head. I'll walk from there.

Homely, innit? Rather them than me.

This room's already complete. We're doing more.

These sneaky bastards from Eastern Europe

have no end of inventive ways to escape.

Or at the very least, send word out.

We can't have that, can we?

- Control. - That's it.

Control the signals, control the workforce.

Stop them calling for help.

Security will be like a fucking sieve otherwise.

Can't get the staff.

All they gotta do is pack up a load of drugs.

Can't be that fucking hard, can it?

Get ideas, though, don't they? Give them an inch.

Fucking rats! They're only here a couple of days,

but, fuck me, do they stink the place up.

Takes the clean-up crew a whole fucking day

to clean the stink off the walls.

Just in time for the next lot to arrive.

GRIFFITH: Oi, come on.

Do not try to run or they will kill you.

Welcome to England.

Wake up. You, up. Now! Up!

- (screaming) - Shut up!

Out.

(dogs bark)

Come on!

Get the fuck out now!

(indistinct speech)

Boys, good to see you. About time you showed up.

I've been waiting long enough.

Uno's not a patient man, and time is money.

I trust you picked the best ones, Gav?

GAVIN: Certainly did.

You lot are mine now.

Do as I say and everything will be OK.

(whispers)

Did I ask you to fucking speak Polish?

You're in England now.

En-ger-land.

Yes?

Yes?

Come on.

Good choice, Gav. This one's fucking hot.

Right, onto the next.

Maybe she ain't cut out for this.

Can't you give her another job?

KAROLINA: Who the fuck asked you?

(chokes)

(choking)

(gasps)

GAVIN: I can see you've got this under control.

Yes. You can go now. Cheers for the support.

Be good, yeah? Let me know when these lot are ready.

I'll be back to test a few later.

Will do.

Right, let's go to the old lounge.

Trip down memory lane for you, old man.

Fuck off.

To me, firstly.

I'm off tomorrow.

Nice little recruit.

Some fresh meat, new girls.

None of this back-of-the-truck shit like earlier.

Good earners.

Here's to the fucking morons who come of their own free will.

Free will?

You don't know, do you?

What?

My niche, my little sideline.

He gets women to think they're in love with them

and then he invites them to meet the family,

which, of course, is us. And the special ones...

That's how they make their money.

Rich Americans, rich Arabs,

anyone with enough to buy and sell human beings.

"Will you marry me?

I'd love you to come and meet my mother.

She'd really like you."

Seen enough get away, though.

Two... that got away, actually. Only two.

One of them didn't really get away, did she?

Tatiana.

Who was the other one?

Oh, yeah.

Now, she was outrageous.

Here, let me show you.

See, imagine they were sitting over there at that bar there.

She'll be sitting there, yeah,

looking all lonely, looking for someone, looking for me.

Soon as they smile, I got 'em.

I just give them some compliments, reassurance.

Maybe a bit of chemical help, sometimes, you know...

Slip them something, make them more... suggestible.

I didn't think she'd give me any trouble so I shipped her off.

But then back in that same town, different bar...

...I bumped into another young lady.

Girl with a... cute little birthmark just under her jaw.

Looked a bit lonely, you know, bit out of place...

Begging for it, in other words.

Spoke a bit of English, been studying it,

wanted to move over here.

But by that point, I was on a roll.

It was a bit of a no-brainer.

I mean, at the end of the day, a mouth's a mouth.

Am I right, gents?

I got her down to the port,

loaded her into the container, gave the custom boys a nod.

Maybe it was the sight of the other unconscious girl in there

that put her off.

Maybe she didn't much like

my English welcome when we got to port.

Maybe I miscalculated the dose of the drugs,

got there too late.

Even so, I had them both to myself for a few hours

before handing them over to sis.

I thought I'd have some fun.

(women weeping)

No sloppy seconds for me.

(tuts)

These girls were gonna get fucked so hard.

GAVIN: Fuck!

Alright, alright! Get the fuck out of it. Go on, fuck off!

Who the fuck do you think you are?

Do you know who I am?

I'm the fucking boss's son

and I'm gonna fucking kill you!

Oi, Clarkey!

I'll talk to the boss,

say you drank too much and leave it at that.

Probably best to take tomorrow off, though, right?

I shouldn't have done that.

Well, he's a horrible little prick, ain't he?

Now go straight home. Don't do anything stupid, alright?

Fucking hell! Fuck!

This is Malina.

I don't want to know her fucking name.

Good choice, though.

Go on, you can fuck off now.

I'll let you know when we're done.

Yes, sir.

Well, let's see you, then.

It's shit being me.

You ready to get fucked, little lady?

Nice and agreeable, huh?

Did Karolina tell you what to do?

Tell you what would happen if you didn't?

Huh?

Y-Yes.

Good girl.

I take it you slipped your phone in his pocket or something?

Yeah.

I haven't quite figured out how I'm gonna get it back yet.

Nice move, though.

At least we'll know where he'll be at certain times.

It's more than we knew before.

What's this?

This is where you've been the past few days,

where and when we lost your signal,

so we know where to look for your corpse.

It's like you said. Their operation is sprawling,

different locales all over the place.

It's very difficult to keep track.

(Malina sobs)

GAVIN: Stop crying. Stop fucking crying.

Stop crying...

Tell me why we don't just go and arrest him right now.

We do that, we blow your cover,

we lose a chance at getting to Terence Turner

and really making a difference.

I'll call in a uniform, domestic disturbance.

I'll get them to report back ASAP.

They'll get there faster than we would. Are you OK?

You miss her.

Every day.

We don't have to if you don't want...

MICHAEL: It's OK.

I take it you heard what happened,

me at the cup game.

It's alright, it's all over the papers, I know.

That was the night she went into labor.

And I was there and not with her.

By the time I got to the hospital...

They said there was nothing I could do,

it wasn't my fault, and I don't blame them.

'Cause I could quite easily have been one of them

if it wasn't for her.

She hated it.

I think...

Maybe I...

I think I'm making her proud.

Now you get to make a difference.

She would have liked you.

Someone who gives a shit.

(phone rings)

Hello.

Hello, Mr. Turner, it's Matthew from front desk.

Sorry to disturb you. I have a police officer here who'd like

to speak to you about a disturbance in your apartment.

It's three in the fucking morning.

I know, sir, I do apologize.

He just wants to know if you're alright.

Yeah, I'm fine.

He's being very insistent. Can I send him up, please, sir?

Yes, just give me a minute, alright?

Oi!

Go and hide in the bathroom.

I hear a squeak from you, I'll kill you, alright?

OK.

Ah, good evening. Mr. Turner?

- How can I help? - Officer Barrington.

I would like to come and look around, if that's OK with you.

Thank you very much.

That's a bit nasty.

Mind if I ask what this is about?

There's been some reports of a lady screaming.

Screaming?

Um, it's probably me. I'm so sorry.

We'll shut the windows.

OFFICER: That's a very good idea.

(no sound)

GAVIN: Anything else we can help you with?

OFFICER: No, I don't think so. I think I've seen enough.

Karolina told me to do as I'm told.

Shut up.

BAKER: Sounds like she's OK, for now.

I'll get them to keep a car there until the morning.

We know about Gavin Turner. His time will come.

Anything that leads us to Terence is...

A priority.

- I just wanna kill him. - No.

That'd be the easy way out for him. Too quick.

He had me in that container, you know.

Tatiana, she... she managed to break free and she ran.

Without even thinking about it,

he ran after her to save himself embarrassment.

I managed to escape.

She's dead.

There were two other officers before me, you know.

Both missing, presumed dead.

Hawkins had seen my file,

and saw that I could speak some Polish,

so that was it. That was all the qualification I needed.

That and my basic training.

I wasn't prepared.

Nothing can prepare you for that.

(clears throat)

(buzzes)

Fuck.

(phone rings)

Yeah.

Uno's called us to the Polish unit.

Alright.

Be there in an hour.

(phone rings)

MAN: Yes, boss.

Can you tell me where Clarke lives?

Yeah, I can get the address.

Send it to me. I need to pick him up.

Yes, boss.

HAWKINS: Good sleep?

Where's Baker?

HAWKINS: She's gone for another medical check-up.

- What time is it? - Time you got cleaned up.

Did Baker mention the new operation?

Nothing to do with me.

Personally, I don't think it'll work.

We're all being reassigned.

Reassigned?

What do you mean, reassigned?

Whatever the powers-that-be are planning,

it's bigger than you and I

and if Uno gets wind of what we're doing,

he'll be gone overnight.

Disappear without trace.

It's happened before. They relocate, regroup.

And we have to start all over again,

and you'll be in a box in the ground.

There's another undercover agent providing intel.

According to his superiors, he's in deep,

so we just sit this one out, I'm afraid.

And what am I supposed to do now?

You don't have to like it.

So that's it, we're just gonna give up and walk away?

I'll drop you back to your flat.

Uniformed officers will be along to arrest you

to keep up appearances.

Then you'll be held in police custody,

at least for a few weeks, whilst arrests are made.

Assuming all goes well.

I wanna see Baker.

I'll let her know where you'll be held.

You and I are not finished, little lady.

Think you're a clever cunt?

I'll deal with you later. Don't go anywhere, yeah?

Sneaky cunt.

Who the fuck are you, then?

GRIFFITH: Whoa, living dangerously!

Where you been? I've been calling.

Oh... Fucking battery died.

- You seen Gavin? - Nah, you?

Well, no, I wouldn't ask you otherwise, would I?

We've been summoned.

The boss man was impressed with those girls,

but some of the new workers need a bit of discipline.

Well, the cage is open, and there's no calls going out,

but we found three of them with phones, so...

We're gonna have to make an example of one of them.

You know, make sure the others don't have any bright ideas.

So, you up for that?

- Yeah? Well, come, let's go. - What, now?

Yeah, now, and if you're lucky, I'll let you pull the trigger.

Gentlemen.

I recently acquired this car lot from my Polish friends.

Seems they thought they could steal

some of their own back from us.

Provide a cheap source of labor for the place.

They were wrong.

Nothing escapes me.

You know why? Attention to detail.

It is the number-one rule in running a successful business.

Do you... know that man there?

No, I don't.

(turns water jet on, Hawkins screams)

(turns water jet off, screaming stops)

GRIFFITH: Get the fuck off me! The fuck off me!

Alright, alright, just fucking leave me. Fuck off!

Now, I like to think I'm a fair man.

Proportional response is perhaps a better way of looking at it.

That man there was a pig...

Clarke is a pig.

I do hate to say it, but you've lost your touch, Griffith.

Now, I do like to see a man fight for his life,

so which one of you would like to step up to the challenge?

Hmm?

Fight and win, then perhaps fight among yourselves.

An opportunity to kill each other.

Fight and lose, and I will make your death agony for months.

This man here, one of your own fighters.

He's gonna be my champion.

So, decide.

Which one of you goes first?

I'll go first.

- You won't beat him. - You wanna fucking bet?

- Let me fight him. - Just fuck off.

I know him, and when I've fucked him up,

I'm gonna come back for you.

Get the fuck off me! Get the fuck off me!

Whoo!

Put the old dog out of his misery.

I think I'll leave you to Gavin.

He's got more... creative ways to deal with you.

(gunshot)

That fighter right there.

Undercover pig.

This is DI Baker 1493.

Gunshots reported on Eastern Way Industrial Area.

Send immediate back-up and deployment of SCO19.

Officer en route. Approach the area with extreme caution.

You're in the shit now, mate.

(grunts)

Hello.

(gunshot, Baker groans)

You're one of them too, are you?

I told you I'd fuck you.

Cover her up.

(Baker gasps)

Oh, my God.

(panicked gasps)

Fuck!

OK...

(groans)

(winces)

(gasps)

KAROLINA: Long night ahead of you, Clarkey.

I've been practicing.

There, all broken.

Relax, Clarke. Look.

Just in case she doesn't do it for you.

Question is, Clarke, which drug is gonna wear off first?

The Diazepam or the Viagra?

(groans)

We keep this one for special occasions.

Just in case clients prove troublesome.

She has something very special she can give you.

My three favorite letters.

S, T and D.

Oh, and not the curable kind, either.

Thank you, my darling.

I see you've met my daughter. Beautiful, isn't she?

She's a lethal combination

of her mother's arse and my brains. (laughs)

Oh, Michael, Michael, Michael, let's have a look at you.

BAKER: Where is he?

- What? - Clarke?

How the fuck did that happen?

Tell me where he is.

(Gavin mutters)

(screams) Fucking bitch!

That's just one.

(gunshot)

Get up. Get up!

(screams)

Who's fucked now?

You're a copper. You're not gonna kill me.

Where is he?

They're at the construction site.

Where he drugged me.

You're a clever fucking cunt.

(Gavin groans)

He'll be long gone now. Buried in concrete.

Propping up our next fucking enterprise.

What the fuck is the matter with you?

GAVIN: I think they call it narcissism.

(Gavin groans)

I think I may drug you up some more.

Sell you to the Russians.

There we go.

You know why, Michael?

Because you have been a very naughty boy. Yes, you have.

I'm building a new base of operations here.

In fact, that's why we are about to go upstairs

to the concrete pour.

Oh, yes, tying up the loose ends.

All those dead bodies submerged in concrete,

swallowed up by the grey ooze.

All the history of my past transgressions

wiped out like that.

I like to think the bones of my enemies

are truly propping up my new business enterprise.

See what I'm doing, Michael?

I'm turning a negative into a positive.

Can you see?

Look at her, Michael.

Take a look at her. Oof! God knows where she's been.

Oh, come on, turn that frown upside down, Mr. Clarke.

Enjoy yourself.

(distant voices)

(yells)

No!

Die!

(chokes)

KAROLINA: Die!

Die!

(gunshot)

- What the fuck was that? - I've got no idea.

(Baker gasps)

Stay there, stay down.

(gunshot echoes)

Sir, I've gotta get you to safety.

I'm surrounded by guards, for fuck's sake.

I'm safe enough. Here, get us a cup of tea.

Go on.

(gunshot)

Hurry the fuck up.

(groans)

(gunshot)

(gunshot, man groans)

Come on, for fuck's sake.

- (gun clicks) - Terence Turner.

Michael Clarke, I presume.

I don't suppose I could interest you in a bribe?

I do have rather a lot of money.

Stop talking.

I've got just one last question for you.

How are you gonna claim self-defense

if you shoot an unarmed man?

Luckily for me, there's a nearby concrete pour

that will hide any unlawful transgression.

I think that's how you put it.

True.

You do know if it wasn't me, it would have been somebody else?

That works both ways.

Yeah?

(gunshot)

Clarke. Clarke.

- You OK? - Yeah, great, you?

- Clarke. - (gasps)

BAKER: It's alright. We're gonna take you to somewhere safe.

MICHAEL: Jesus...

You!

You know who I am?

Michael Clarke.

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