Your son lost my gold
to Bob Fink.
Actually, Fink doesn't have it.
He's dead. - Got a safe house on Rivington Street.
Take it to Elm Lodge. It's a bit close to home, sir.
I don't intend to let this out of my sight.
You said 30 hours to this exchange, right?
So that gives us enough time to track him down, right?
We've got three phases.
Phase one is intel.
Phase two...
is the takedown.
Phase three is the getaway.
Where's my dad? - He's in the back of Jones's van.
Mm. Mm-hmm.
I'm coming to get ya, Vic. Hang on in there, mate!
♪ I can't take much more of this now ♪
♪ Loving you is ahead of me they say ♪
♪ It's a bad love ♪
♪ Bad, bad love. ♪
♪ Baby I can't see a change ♪
♪ In my life I'd do the same ♪
♪ It's a bad love ♪
♪ Bad, bad love ♪ - Come on, come on!
You piece of shit thing!
Come on, Dad, pick up.
Come on, Dad, don't do this to me. Pick up.
Pick up.
Shit. - He's probably got no signal
in the back of that metal box.
Well, I just hope it's not a metal coffin.
Well, I haven't seen you for a while.
Albert. - Mum?
What's going on?
Listen, it's all kicked off, Mum, alright?
We got rumbled. - And?
Norman got shot, Mum.
He's gone.
♪ Another man gone under ♪
♪ Under God we run ♪
♪ Another man has gone ♪ - God bless him.
Did you get the info on the exchange?
Yeah, we did. It's Liverpool docks.
The buyer's name is Petru.
He's coming in from some place called Ajaccio.
He's gotta leave before the morning tide. We're following
Jones in the van now.
We're on our way. Albert?
Yeah?
Where's your father?
I'll give it to them, they got some bollocks
coming after us like that.
This Vic Hill, he's harder to kill than a cockroach.
Ain't no killing me.
He's a relentless bastard, I'll give him that.
He almost took us down.
Your boys fell asleep on the job, Dwyer.
Well, at least all that spilt claret will give your wife an excuse
to redecorate Elm Lodge, again.
Leave the irony to the ironic, Dwyer.
You're engaged solely for your more...
basic instincts.
If the cockroach wants to take over the chicken
it must hire fox as a henchman.
One minute, girls.
♪ I know you live above the law ♪
♪ I believe I'm not too like a ghost ♪
♪ You're a lonesome guy looking for the gold ♪
That's badass. - Right. Move it.
Or it's perms all round.
♪ Cos you'll need to live alone, alone ♪
So who's a good boy, Scooter.
Go on, have that.
Al, just wondering.
What exactly are we gonna do when we get to the docks?
Disruption, extraction, escape.
Yeah, and what do each of those
phases entail exactly? - Well, that's the bit
I'm still working on, Charlie.
We getting anywhere, girls?
The Liverpool docks are massive.
Twelve kilometres long, four million square feet
of warehouses. - We need to narrow it down.
Where did Albert say it was departing from?
Ajaccio, a port city on the west coast of Corsica.
And the buyer's name was Petru.
Petru. A Christian name, common in Finland, Romania
and Corsica. - Corsica?
Well, now we know where it's coming in from
all we need to find out is what time, and where it's docking.
Three hours till Liverpool.
Doesn't this tin can go any faster? - Look, I'm thrashing her
like a nag on Derby Day, Charlie, alright?
You're welcome to get out and push!
Sit. Paw.
And spin around for me.
Down. Who's a good boy?
Sit. Jesus.
This dog can do anything.
I swear he must be police trained or something.
Scooter, away.
Told you. Ah.
Who's a good boy? Who's a good boy?
Well, that could come in useful.
Oh shit. Phone's died.
Oh, no worries.
As if by magic, I have another one.
Jesus, Charlie.
How many phones have you got? - Oh, no. This is our old pal Bob Fink's.
What you stealing a dead man's phone for?
It's a step too far, isn't it?
It's linked to his CCTV cameras in his flat.
Thought I could use it as evidence when I sue the arse out of
the Metropolitan Police for being kidnapped and beaten by one of their detectives.
OK, wait a minute, that phone is linked to the CCTV
in Fink's flat?
The same flat that Jones shot
and murdered him in? - Well...
Well, now that you mention it, yeah.
Well, turn it on then, let's have a gander.
Oh, shit.
Time to get clever, chaps.
Well, we've got three cracks at this before it locks us out.
Seven letters.
Bullion.
Try bullion. - Yeah.
As good a guess as any.
Bullion.
Nope. Access denied. Two left.
I found a website with all the boats coming in and out of Liverpool.
It says where they're from, and where and when they're docking.
Any sign of our Corsican friends?
Oh, there's hundreds of boats. This is gonna take ages to go through.
Say the boys actually do boost the money.
How are we gonna escape, Lily? It's not like the Flying Squad are gonna
let us rock off into the sunset without a fight.
We'll improvise as opportunities present themselves
and if option A doesn't work
then there's still 25 other letters of the alphabet, right, Lotti?
Right, Lily.
Oh, right. So he had a proper obsession with my old man, didn't he?
Try his name. - Worth a shot.
Vic Hill.
Hmm.
Obviously not that obsessed. Access denied.
One left.
You know, if this all goes to plan
I'll be beating the shit out of you on a paradise beach for the rest of our days.
You're becoming needy, Dwyer. It doesn't suit you.
You're a world class prick...
Sir. - Thank you.
Jesus Christ!
Shit!
It's Vic Hill's pet Neanderthal.
I'm beginning to believe that their obsession
with my gold is bordering on the demented.
I'll put one between his eyes. - No.
Let me deal with it.
Nice to see you again.
What did you say your name was?
Them call me Windrush.
Oh, yeah. - I know you.
Hate 'Em All Henry.
And don't forget it.
Respec'.
You have to earn my respect.
Come on then! Is that it? - I'm gonna mark that.
Time for cut up your arse for that.
Now we're even.
You want this? You want this?
Where machete gone?
Come now.
Where him gone?
Is that it?
Get here!
Oh, shit!
I'm gonna kill ya!
Oh, my God!
Last chance to crack it.
Get the ball. Go on, Scooter!
Surely not.
Yeah! I got it.
Yeah? - Yeah, it worked.
Yeah? - Yeah.
Well done.
Scooter. Put that down before you blow us all up.
Please. Put that down.
Billy, what is going on back there?
Good boy, good boy. Scooter.
Good boy. Good boy.
He only went and copped a hold of one of these.
Alright!
Billy, how many of those pineapples we got back there?
Hmm. I'd say about half a dozen.
Hey, w-wait. Wait.
One last smoke.
Respec'.
Fuck your respect!
Hate 'Em?
You alright, love?
I could murder a bacon sandwich, Mrs H.
Come on, love. Let's get you up, eh?
Hang in there, big fella.
I've got one. The Panizzi.
Boat coming in from Corsica. Registered to a Peter Shryer.
Peter. Petru. It's the same name.
Yes! - Just in different countries.
Does it tell you where it's scheduled to dock?
Uh, pier nine, dock four, in an hour.
Right. Hold on to your tits, girls.
I've got into the CCTV footage.
Your little agendas. Oh, well
Jeez.
Yeah, alright. I'm not even sure Fink deserved to go out like that.
Can you upload that? - Uh, yeah. I can try.
- Mum, what you got? - Pier nine, dock four.
The Corsicans dock in an hour, Albert.
OK. Here's the deal.
Text my old man. Get him to send me a smoke signal or something, please.
Quickly.
Yes! Dad!
Dad's alright.
I see you boys know what you gotta do.
And you, you're with us now, aren't you?
Right, well, let's do this. Good luck.
Corsicans.
Thank you for stating the obvious, Dwyer.
Regardes autour.
Chief Superintendent Jones.
Petru.
I see you've brought back-up.
We're all gangsters, non?
Even if we hide behind uniforms.
The gold?
It is in the van?
It's close by.
But first we'll examine the money.
Make sure the ink is dry.
Now, uh, this is, uh, English humour?
I prefer to call it English pragmatism.
Right, here goes nothing, Dad.
♪ Help me brothers ♪
♪ Help me friend ♪
♪ Hell's been goin' down and I think they've got him ♪
♪ Help me ♪
♪ Help me out of here ♪
Now.
The gold.
"Ze gold."
Ooh la la.
Open the door, Dwyer.
Heads, I win. Tails, you lose.
Here's
Victor.
Don't move.
Well, you lot really do need a new catch phrase.
Alright, alright, alright.
No need for hostility.
I come in peace.
You really are a monumental pain in the arse.
What the hell is this, Jones? Who's this man?
This man...
is a floater in the toilet of life.
Soon to be flushed.
I bet you a pile of dodgy metal it all ends in claret.
Good night, Victor.
What now?
What is this, Dwyer?
What the fuck is this?
No!
Fuck! Boss...
Boss! - Fuck!
It's a bomb-dog. It's brilliant.
Now who the hell is this?
It's my son, Albert.
Ah-ah-ah-ah.
One more move out of any of you, and it's Christmas come early.
Comprende?
Now...
I've just come for me dad.
Bollocks to the gold. You can keep that.
It's all a bluff.
They want it all.
Either I leave with my old man, right now...
Or we all go up.
No one's going anywhere.
Let him go, you fucking idiot.
There's enough grenades on this mutt to take out all of us.
Go on.
Put it down!
Oh, get up, Hill.
Oh, alright.
Au revoir.
Trust me? - All the way, son.
There'll be no rock big enough for you to hide under.
Oh, no, no. I think it's you that's gonna need the rock
Chief Superintendent Jones.
Albert?
T'es prêt?
Dad, let's move.
Armed police! Nobody move!
Armed police, stay there!
The money!
Shit!
Come on!
In the van, Charlie. - Fuck!
Oh, for God's-- - Start her up, Charlie.
Oh, God, no! The van won't start!
Out! To the cop car, come on!
Oh, come on, Charlie!
Go! Go, go, go, go, go!
Oh, come on, Charlie! Just throw it in there!
Grab that gun!
Get in! - There's no room, Charlie!
- How do you suggest we do that? - Charlie, dock fourteen.
We'll meet you there. Go! Go!
Police, stop! Stop, now!
Round there, boy. Round there.
Shit!
Drive! Come on!
Right, they're getting away!
♪ Cos I'm on fire, you can't touch me now ♪
Shit, they're gaining on us, Charlie!
I said fast!
Wrong way there! Oh!
Where'd you learn to drive like this?
Reverse! Reverse, Charlie! Come on! Quicker!
They do not give up!
Easy, Charlie!
Oh, shit!
Fuck, no!
Well, what do we do now?
- Oh, shit. - Step out of the car
with your hands up! - We pray for a bloody miracle.
- What's that? - Oh, sh--
Oh, we're really flying now, Charlie!
This is the life!
Hands above your head!
We've been planning this take-down for months, you idiot.
Chief Superintendent Jones
I'm arresting you on suspicion of the murder of DI Robert Fink.
DI Fink was murdered?
What are you talking about?
There's a video been sent anonymously to us, sir.
CCTV footage of Fink's brains painting the walls.
You giving the order.
But all these... grudges, these...
seedy little agendas.
Oh, well.
You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence
if you do not mention when--
You really are an animal, Dwyer.
The gold is by the water, sir.
Sailor boy!
What are you doing with my gold, Petru?
It is my gold now, you son of a--
Don't move! I'll shoot!
Drop your gun!
Well... Don't be silly, son. - Drop your guns!
- You bastard, sir. - Drop it!
It's been excruciating, Dwyer.
Mum. Dock fourteen, right now!
We'll be there in a tic.
Oi, son.
You don't happen to have another one of those grenades handy, do ya?
Well, as it happens.
If I can't have you, nobody can. Ha-ha.
Chop, chop. Chop, chop, boys. Come on.
Come on then! Move it!
Come on, baby!
Ah, shit!
Scooter! Sc-- Scooter, come on!
Come to Uncle Hate 'Em, little Scooter. Good boy! There you go.
The fat lady sings.
Come on!
Whoo-hoo-hoo!
♪ No matter how much coal ♪
♪ You shovel in the mouth of your child... ♪ - Chloe Koen.
I'm gonna kiss you.
Please do, Mr Cavendish-Scott.
♪ ...these furnaces still want more ♪
Ho-ho-ho!
It's about time, son. About time.
Hey. Now you can afford to take me on a proper date.
You'd be lucky.
Now you're in trouble, son. Now you're in trouble.
Whoo!
Told you I'd sort it, Lil.
Yeah, I never doubted you for a minute, Victor.
♪ ...and this is junkyard love ♪
♪ On the scrapheap of lust ♪
♪ Keep the furnace burning ♪
♪ Lest we turn into rust ♪
♪ This is junkyard love ♪
♪ On the scrapheap of lust ♪
♪ Keep the furnace burning ♪
♪ Lest we turn into rust... ♪
Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.
There's still one more thing we need to sort out.
Who knows the way to Spain?
We're going to Spain, baby!
Whoo!