Original subtitles

I love him! Can't you understand?

You're not gonna see your husband in this house for the next 15 years

unless you help us locate that money and get the rest of the gang.

You co-operate with us and we may be able to bring his parole forward.

Are you trying to tell me you'll help?

Mrs Whittle, your husband's going to spend

the last good years of his life in prison

while Myles and Ward and the rest of the gang are outside laughing!

Not only that, your old man is still controlling that money they stole.

And he's giving it away to the rest of his gang.

Money that you'll never be able to spend!

Look, all you've gotta do is find out where the money's now hidden.

Your husband will never know you told us.

Or does he love his fellow thieves more than you?

More even than the kids?

I'd do it...if only he'd let me.

He's not gonna tell you to tip us off, is he?!

Look, love, we understand his code of honour.

We're not asking him to shop his mates,

we're asking you to do it for him.

For his own sake.

For his sake? I thought you said you loved him!

You were a bit hard on her, guv.

She knew he was a villain.

She was quite happy to share the jollies as long as he was free.

Don't give me crap about suffering wives, you'll have me in tears!

But she's too scared of Whittle ever to open her mouth.

As long as we knew where that money was, all we had to do was sit back

and wait for Myles and Ward to collect it.

Now it's been nicked from under our noses, we're back to square one.

But terrorising her isn't gonna help, is it?

Look, she needs money. What happens if she goes to the press?

Stuff the press.

'Doreen Whittle talks to Sandy Williams.'

Who the bleedin' hell does this Sandy Williams think he is?

Scotch-Welsh git.

When did that rag come out?

Yesterday.

But today you're a star.

George...tell C11 to subscribe to The Beano in future.

It makes heavier reading. 'Ere, guv'nor.

This must have been at the printers weeks ago. So?

Well, there's a reference here

about the money being taken from Mrs Whittle's house to Reading.

This was written before even we knew that.

You stay here, George.

Find out all you can on Mr Sandy Williams.

Sandy Williams, please. Who are you?

Detective Inspector Regan. Flying Squad.

I want to ask you some questions about an article in this magazine.

I'm not Sandy. Well, is he here?

Yes. HE is.

This is Sandy.

Of course, we all hate suffering. I, personally, cannot bear it.

You see this one here? I think this is possibly one of Sandy's best.

We couldn't use it in the magazine because of printing difficulties.

That bit there around the eye would have come out all smudgy and black.

Now, look at that face.

You, of course, inspector, would know far more about this

than either Sandy or myself.

But apparently, these women can survive quite adequately

for several years before they suddenly crack...

Here, for example, you can almost see the crack

looming from behind the eyes...

Yes. Justin's right. There was a strange expression she had.

I could never quite capture it.

But it was there, all right.

'The ex-husband is Roman Mathieson, the press baron.'

She was married to him?

Bloody hell.

Scotch all right? Yeah, fine.

The beauty of a deep freeze is the ice gets cold enough to crackle

when the scotch is poured over it.

When did you write the article, Miss Williams?

It's this month's issue.

When did you write the article?

A bit before. I can hardly remember exactly when.

I can find out exactly when, I want to know roughly. Now.

What difference does it make? It makes this difference, Miss Williams.

That issue went to the printers containing information that nobody,

not even the police, knew about at the time.

Nobody, that is, except you and the villains.

Then if you know that, why bother to ask me when I wrote it?

All right. How did you know?

I forget. Now, don't start being clever with me, Miss Williams.

I don't think you realise

what deep water you and your literary sidekick are in.

I could arrest you right now

for conspiring to pervert the course of justice.

If you're going to raise your voice, Inspector,

would you mind calling me by my first name?

Something tells me that prison would not appeal to you, Miss Williams.

Where did you get your information?

I don't know I am drinking scotch. I'm a Bloody Mary girl really.

Where did you get your information?

Come on, Inspector.

Name my sources? So you have sources. You weren't guessing?

I thought this was going to be so exciting.

Are all police enquiries so boring?

The other half?

No. Thanks.

I mean...I've heard of the machinery of justice,

but, God... Try having a conversation with a machine.

Try having a drink with a machine.

Miss Williams... Sandy.

I'm going to have to take you in for questioning.

Out of the kindness of my mechanical heart,

I'll give you ten minutes to get dressed.

I'll be waiting in the car outside.

Sandy Williams is a lady.

Yeah, I know.

We need mink handcuffs and a bottle of Alka-Seltzer, I'm bringing her in.

Did you get anything on her?

No details.

Except a bleedin' big problem.

Her ex-husband owns a chunk of Fleet Street.

And she's still dancing on his lungs.

Go back to the Yard. Get everything on her.

I'll see you later.

I'm sorry, I'm not ready - Look...

Yes?

Let's keep this as pleasant as possible.

Why don't I take you out to dinner tonight instead?

You mean I'm no longer under arrest?

I'm bailing you out.

I'll try and loosen your tongue with champagne.

Champagne won't loosen my tongue.

How about a Bloody Mary? With limes, not lemons.

That's all the background on her so far.

It's not much. Jack Regan here, is Bill down there?

Listen, guv'nor. What happens if we need her as a prosecution witness

and the defence find out she went out with you? In the line of duty.

Yeah, well, there's another thing that worries me.

It's not as if she's just a member of the public, she's a journalist.

Now you've given her something to write about.

She could do a big story on you.

Now what's to stop her?

Bill? Listen, would you do us a favour?

I want you to get me some limes.

You could even be walking into a trap.

Limes! Little green things, eaten at half time on the Equator.

Sandy?

Sandy?

Sandy, what are you playing -

God, I felt ridiculous lying here.

Where are you taking me for dinner?

Who told you about that stolen money being moved?

Can we go in your police car?

No.

Did you really smash that mirror as part of the whole effect?

You make excellent Bloody Marys.

You're a nutter.

No, I'm not. I'm starving.

Where are you taking me for dinner?

Sandy! Eric!

Welcome to Le Valbon.

I thought you were in Los Angeles?

I was but the police were after me. I'm on the run.

It's great to see you.

You said you'd write. I did, I sent you a postcard.

I don't believe you.

Have we missed all the flamenco?

No, they're on again later. Terrific.

Er, Eric - Jack, Jack - Eric.

Hi. Hello.

Would you like a seat next to Fred? Lovely.

Hello, Fred.

- Isn't he sweet? - Yeah, knockout

Have fun.

Nice to see you again, Sandy.

A very old friend.

I bet.

You were saying?

When you came, when you finally came...

I thought, 'What kind of a detective?

He's never gonna follow the clues!'

Clues? Door unlatched...

You couldn't find the red carpet.

Telephone off the hook?

You didn't want us to be disturbed.

Books scattered all over the stairs?

You hate reading. You prefer other forms of amusement.

And when you finally reached the bedroom...

..I thought, 'What if he doesn't touch me

and calls for an ambulance instead?'

You'd have got someone in a uniform.

And there was another clue. The untouched drink.

Except I sipped just a little bit too much from it.

Why all that?

How else do you get a detective into your bedroom?

Perhaps I should have left a note saying...'Look under the bed'.

I think that fish fancies me.

Let us leave. I haven't seen any flamenco yet.

I haven't danced any flamenco yet.

I tell you, George. It's just as well we didn't arrest her.

There's no prison in the country that could hold her.

I don't often say this but that girl Sandy is something special.

Yeah, well I hope you can handle her. She's my kinda girl, son.

How was last night?

From a legal point of view, we both committed a breach of the peace.

We were drunk and disorderly,

used offensive language to three pedestrians,

littered the Queen's highway to the extent of one empty champagne bottle,

and damaged a dustbin while reversing to park.

From a human point of view, we had a bloody good night, Your Worship.

Find out a lot about her? Yeah.

Listen, guv'nor. Someone's been ferrying information

from Geoff Whittle in jail to Myles and Ward outside.

She's our number one suspect.

Sunday papers. Orange juice.

And there's some coffee when you're ready.

And the croissant have just come out of the oven

so they're nice and soft. And warm.

Sandy, you're a monster.

You think I'm a monster?

When did you write the article, Miss Williams?'

'It's this month's issue.'

'When did you write the article?'

You're a media monster, that's what you are.

'I want to know roughly, now.' 'What difference does it make?'

'It makes this difference, Miss Williams...'

'That issue went to the printers

containing information not even the police knew about.

Nobody, except you and the villain.'

'Why bother to ask me when I wrote it?'

You... What a butch policeman.

It's throwing it down outside, where are you going?

A little assignment. Nothing I can't tell you about. Later.

I'll be back in a couple of hours.

Is there any chance you might still be in bed?

I certainly won't be under it.

'Something tells me

that prison would not appeal to you, Miss Williams.'

'Turning into Old Brompton Road, over.'

OK, following now. Over.

So she's visiting Mrs Whittle again.

Yeah.

Geoff Whittle only has one visitor a fortnight, right? His wife.

She's the only way he can get messages to the outside world.

If Whittle's still controlling the whereabouts of the money

why would he let his wife take visits from her?

Well, if he knows about them, no reason at all.

Unless, of course, she's part of the operation.

So she's a photographer.

Yeah. You said she was special, guv.

She must think she's Jacques Cousteau filming in this weather.

Who the hell's that?

How do I know?

Follow him, I'll stay with her. OK, guv.

I was hoping you'd still be in bed.

Hello?

Yes.

It's for you, Inspector.

Regan. Guv'nor, can I talk?

Yeah, well he was one of Whittle's firm.

We traced him all the way back to Myles and Ward.

No, no question.

Hello.

Guv'nor, we've located the money again.

I've been trying to contact you.

Where is it now? It's been taken back to Mrs Whittle's flat.

How do we know? Same tip as before, out of the Scrubs.

I've set up observation again.

And another thing, guv'nor.

Whittle had a lady visitor yesterday.

Guess who.

Sandy Williams.

I've been in touch with the editor.

They're prepared to defend journalistic silence in the courts.

Did anyone interrogate this Sandy Williams? Yeah.

And she refused to co-operate? Correct.

Who did it? Is it logged?

I did and it isn't. Yet.

Look, let's not beat about the bush, Jack.

She may be a well known journalist, and we all know how the press feel

when one of their own comes under fire,

but if she is involved in any way with this Whittle affair,

we won't use kid gloves on her.

And that goes for anyone who's involved with her.

You follow me?

Now, about this money back at Mrs Whittle's place.

We can't have that taken from under our noses again.

I think we should pick it up

and deal with Myles and Ward in some other way.

It's been paid out by the insurance. It's dead money.

Even if we do lose it, all it can do is add to inflation.

Its value to us is as bait.

All right. But be very careful, Jack.

If that's the bait...every fish it hooks will have to be reeled in.

Guv'nor, tips are coming in from very funny places.

The latest one is Myles and Ward are gonna move it tomorrow night.

Well, we're standing by, aren't we?

Listen, when we nail them this thing's gonna blow wide open, right?

Now you've got to clear yourself in advance!

Nick her now, it's the only thing you can do.

You followed me? Yes.

You didn't trust me. Wasn't I right?!

I'm allowed to do my job.

You were breaking the law! You were passing on information!

Myles and Ward are criminals!

They're not, they haven't been tried yet. They're still innocent.

They've both got records as long as your arm.

Sandy, what did you tell them?

What did you pass on?

I...I saw my guv'nor this afternoon.

He knows about us.

He as good as told me he's giving me breathing space.

Sandy, if you don't come clean with me now

I've got no alternative but to arrest you.

And when we nail Myles and Ward, you'll go too, for a long stretch.

And your only defence in court

will implicate me and my career's finished.

What about my career? Your career?

I make more money than you.

You don't have to be a policeman all your life.

Why does it have to be my career instead of yours?

I could work for both of us. But your career's not at stake!

Not if you come clean with me now.

Look, I have to have some sort of code as a journalist.

If I broke it I couldn't work with myself again. Code? Yes!

What's the matter, don't you bloody policemen have any personal code?

That seems to be it then.

Cop meets journalist. The end.

I'll tell you everything I know.

On one condition. No conditions, Sandy.

We know the money's in Mrs Whittle's place. Or we're assuming it is.

We've had several whispers that it's due to be moved.

The hardest and latest information we've got is this.

Myles and Ward won't be seen dead anywhere near that place,

so the money's gonna be taken from the Whittles' place as rubbish

in a normal dustcart to the normal rubbish dump.

Where's it's gonna be dumped to be picked up later.

The cue for the transfer is gonna be the end of the dustmen's strike.

Which will be early in the morning.

The word is that that strike's gonna be called off tonight.

So just in case it is and a bit of overtime is called for,

we'll be there as from the moment the strike is officially ended.

When Myles and Ward come by with their mouths watering

we'll nick 'em red handed.

Right, any questions before the briefing detail?

Yeah.

Anybody got any deodorant?

I'm bloody frozen. How are you?

I'm all right.

Doesn't half pen and ink down here.

Check in with the others.

Jim? It's George, are you all right?

I'd rather be tucked up in bed. Sorry, dearie, I can't help you.

That's the one.

Good girl.

This is just rubbish!

Like her!

We know the money was kept at your house. That's ridiculous.

Would I have turned up if I knew it was a hoax?

Those visits to Mrs Whittle.

You were transferring it in small amounts, weren't you?

No.

Miss Williams, we have every one of your visits logged

by our surveillance team.

Grow up, I've told you everything I know.

Mrs Whittle's flat was completely searched six weeks ago

and it was clean. Empty.

You start making regular visits

and eventually all the money's transferred there.

So you need an alibi because you forgot to search the rubbish.

Naughty boys. You lie in court and you'll get seven years for perjury.

Believe me, I'm not lying. Why should I lie?

Look, we had a tail on Myles and Ward and a watch on the money,

now all we had to do was get the two together, right?

If you say so.

All they needed was a nice little scheme so we were out of the way

just long enough for them to disappear with it

in the other direction.

You were their decoy. You fed us false information.

You even came along to make sure we ate it.

You really believe what you're saying?

How old are you, Miss Williams?

26. You'll be a lot older when you get out, sweetheart.

And not half as tasty.

Get stuffed!

I don't know, guv. This could be a tough one.

I know I was the one who first suspected her,

but I'm beginning to get my doubts now.

She could be clean.

Try Whittle.

How come you were the trusted go-between

for Myles and Mrs Whittle?

I was nothing of the sort.

What was it again you said to that bloke by the Embankment?

I told you already.

I forget, tell me again.

I told him that Mrs Whittle didn't want to see them.

It was probably a code that I didn't understand

meaning the money was still in the same place.

Nah. You'll have to do better than that for the judge, love.

Can't I have a coffee too?

I must say though...

you don't look the type.

Still, he always had taste.

A lot of them go soft when they come up against a bit of class.

Can I speak to a solicitor, please?

I know I have a right.

You're Whittle's girl, aren't you?

What? You're Whittle's girlfriend.

He set you up in that house before he went inside, didn't he?

You're round the twist! The only time I ever saw him was behind bars!

So you visited him?

Yes. You must have used a false name then.

No, I didn't.

Well, I might have used my married name, I sometimes do.

And that is when you and Geoff Whittle schemed the whole thing.

No! That is when I went to see him

to try to get an article about him for a magazine.

Sit down, Miss Williams.

I'm sorry, sorry... Sorry for shouting.

Let me talk to Jack.

Jack who?

Detective Inspector Regan.

He's not here, love.

What do you want to speak to him for, anyway?

We've got loads of other inspectors.

So what do we do? Hold her or let her go?

Look, guv'nor, we've got nothing.

There's no proof the money was ever at Mrs Whittle's.

There's no proof it was taken away

while we were watching that bleedin' dustcart.

And there's no proof she was trying to set us up.

We blew it.

We both blew it.

Look, we lost out.

Whittle made us look idiots, it's one case we really messed up.

But while we hang onto her, it's going to stick in our throats.

And she's press, guv.

This could all go twice as rotten.

Do you want to talk to her?

Throw her out.

Take a seat, Jack. I'll stand.

You were a bit unfortunate. A bit of bad info.

Once again we lose the money from under our noses.

Look, guv, I've been up to my back teeth in garbage all night.

I'm a bit tired. What did you want to see me about?

Yes, you look tired, Jack. This case has made a lot of us tired.

You came unstuck, Jack. You ran into something you couldn't handle.

As of this moment, you're off the case.

Take a holiday, Jack.

The Whittle gang, there was no Whittle gang!

Geoff Whittle's been doing porridge for two years.

Don't believe all that press rubbish just because you like reading it.

Listen, mate...

If you knew one bleedin' thing about anything

you would know that we have wiped out major crime in this country.

And, in fact, we've been so successful

we've ended up giving ourselves nothing to do!

All the big villains are inside!

In fact, we're gonna have to invent some villains

to give ourselves something to do!

See that bird he come in with the other night?

You what?! The bird you come in here the other night with.

The photographer. She downed a pint in five seconds flat.

Journalist...

A vulture!

A trendy crime-sniffer.

Now that all the boys are inside, her kind are gonna be out of work.

In fact, they're so hard up, they're hanging round the wives, families.

Guv'nor? There's a call for you. On one of the hotlines.

I'll take it here.

Regan? Hello? Inspector Regan?

Jack. I have to tell you something.

Can you get over here quickly? Where are you?

I'll be right round.

I think there's something going on.

Get another car.

Sandy, are you all right?

Well?

You called?

Sandy...I've got two cars outside and men round the back.

What was the urgency? I just desperately wanted you.

False alarm.

Guv'nor!

Hello, George. What are you having?

Erm, half a bitter. Half a bitter.

Are you all right, George, how's the wife? She all right? Terrific.

Hey, this is the bloke I was telling you about.

I'm going to recommend him for a promotion.

He's got what it takes to be a DI. Self-control.

Excuse me.

Myles?

Oi, Myles!

Yeah? I want a word with you.

Cor, terrible smell in here all of a sudden!

That bird Sandy. Did you set her up?

Can't think where it comes from.

Somebody let a dog in here somewhere?

This isn't business. I just wanna know, did you set her up?

Smells something like...filth.

Had your bins emptied lately, have you?

He's funny, he is, isn't he?

Just tell me, Myles.

What is it you want me to say, young man?

Something nice or something nasty?

The thing about filth is...

..you touch it...

or if you once let it touch you...you can't get it off.

Nice girl, that Sandy.

Till she got the filth on her. Yeah...

Like that!

I don't want any aggro! Did you set her up?

We didn't know who he was.

He just came in here and attacked us.

Me and my friend.

Course we set her up!

What happened to you?

I had a drink with Myles and Ward, didn't I?

She's clean, guv.

They told me, they just used her.

All she knew was to hang around that dump

if she wanted a good photograph.

She's clean.

Let's use your car.

It's all right, we're the - Hold it, oi! It's all right.

Sandy?

She not here. She gone.

Gone? Nay York, erm...

New York.

Job! Job! Job in New York.

Understand?

'In a way, I...I hope you miss this clue as well.

But...then in another way, I hope you don't.

I think I do love you, Jack.

But for some reason, I could never really say it to your face.

I'm leaving...

not because I - I know you don't really love me

but because given the jobs we do, it could never really work out.

I don't think you can love unless you put your love before your work.

I was prepared to do that for you...

but would you have done it for me?'

She all right?

She's fine.

'I don't think you can love unless you put your love before your work.

I was prepared to do that for you...

but would you have done it for me?'

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