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.
VIC GRUNTS
MAN GULPS
DISGUSTED GROANING
MAN WRETCHES
VOMITING AND GROANING
MACHINE GUN FIRE
LOUD SPLASH
Mm. Mm-hmm.
MEN GULPING
MUSIC: "Bad Love" by Night Beats
HATE 'EM: 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. - DIAL ERROR TONE
Shit. - He's probably got no signal
in the back of that metal box.
Well, I just hope it's not a metal coffin.
VIC GROANS
Well, I haven't seen you for a while.
MOBILE PHONE RINGS.
Albert. - Mum?
What's going on?
Listen, it's all kicked off, Mum, alright?
We got rumbled. - And?
Norman got shot, Mum.
MUSIC: "Another Man" by Bakermat - 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.
ALBERT: 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.
LILY: We're on our way. Albert?
Yeah?
Where's your father?
TERI: 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.
CHIEF SUPT JONES: 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.
WINDRUSH CHUCKLES
One minute, girls.
MUSIC: "Rise up Brother" by Lafayette
♪ 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.
CHARLIE SIGHS 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.
WINDRUSH CHUCKLES
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.
PHONE PAD CLICKS - Bullion.
ERROR MESSAGE CHIMES - 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.
PHONE PAD CLICKS - Vic Hill.
ERROR MESSAGE CHIMES - 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.
EFFORT GRUNTS - Jesus Christ!
GRUNTS - 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.
WINDRUSH CHUCKLES
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. WINDRUSH LAUGHS
And don't forget it.
Respec'.
You have to earn my respect.
FIGHTING GRUNTING
Come on then! Is that it? - I'm gonna mark that.
Time for cut up your arse for that.
Now we're even.
HE LAUGHS You want this? You want this?
HATE 'EM SHOUTS
IMPACT GRUNTING
WINDRUSH LAUGHS
EFFORT GRUNTING
Where machete gone?
WINDRUSH YELLS
Come now.
Where him gone?
HATE 'EM YELLS
WINDRUSH SCREAMS
FIGHTING GRUNTING
WINDRUSH YELLS - HATE 'EM GRUNTS
HATE 'EM YELLING: Is that it?
Get here!
WINDRUSH YELLS
HATE 'EM YELLS
Oh, shit!
HATE 'EM YELLS I'm gonna kill ya!
GRUNTING AND HEAVY BREATHING
Oh, my God!
Last chance to crack it.
Get the ball. Go on, Scooter!
Surely not.
PHONE PAD CLICKS
PHONE BUZZES - Yeah! I got it.
Yeah? - Yeah, it worked.
Yeah? - Yeah.
ALBERT: 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.
WINDRUSH GRUNTS AND PANTS - MOBILE PHONE RINGS
WINDRUSH RAMBLES INDISTINCTLY
HATE 'EM YELLS
WINDRUSH GROANING
IMPACT GRUNT - HATE 'EM SCREAMS
WINDRUSH MUTTERS - HATE 'EM SHOUTS
BOTH BREATHE HEAVILY
HE COUGHS AND GROANS
HATE 'EM GROANS
Hey, w-wait. Wait.
HATE 'EM: One last smoke.
Respec'.
HE BLOWS Fuck your respect!
EFFORT GRUNT
SOUND MUFFLED Hate 'Em?
SOUND RESUMES - Hate 'Em?
HATE 'EM GROANS - You alright, love?
HE CHUCKLES 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. - LILY LAUGHS
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.
CHIEF SUPT JONES: Your little agendas. Oh, well
Jeez. - RECORDED GUNSHOT
Yeah, alright. I'm not even sure Fink deserved to go out like that.
Can you upload that? - Uh, yeah. I can try.
MOBILE PHONE RINGS
Mum, what you got? - LILY: 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.
ALBERT SHOUTING: Yes! Dad!
ALBERT SHOUTING: Dad's alright.
MOBILE PHONE CHIMES
ALBERT EXHALES DEEPLY
INDISTINCT CHATTER IN FRENCH
I see you boys know what you gotta do.
DOG WHINES
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.
MAN GRUNTS
MEN SPEAK INDISTINCT FRENCH
INDISTINCT FRENCH CHATTER
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.
PETRU SCOFFS
Now, uh, this is, uh, English humour?
I prefer to call it English pragmatism.
INDISTINCT FRENCH CHATTER
Right, here goes nothing, Dad.
MUSIC: "Help Me" by Livingstones ♪ 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.
HE CHUCKLES "Ze gold."
Ooh la la.
Open the door, Dwyer.
Heads, I win. Tails, you lose.
Here's
Victor.
VIC CHUCKLES
Don't move.
Well, you lot really do need a new catch phrase.
Alright, alright, alright.
VIC GRUNTS
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.
GUN COCKS
Good night, Victor.
VICTOR WHISTLES
What now?
INDISTINCT FRENCH CHATTER
What is this, Dwyer?
DOG BARKS
INDISTINCT FRENCH CHATTER
What the fuck is this?
No! - GUNSHOT
Fuck! Boss...
Boss! - Fuck!
WOUNDED MAN YELLS
VIC LAUGHS
It's a bomb-dog. It's brilliant.
VIC LAUGHS
ALBERT WHISTLES
Now who the hell is this?
It's my son, Albert.
GUNS CLICK - 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!
HE GROWLS
Oh, get up, Hill.
Oh, alright.
VIC CHUCKLES
VIC GROANS
Au revoir.
VIC LAUGHS
Trust me? - All the way, son.
There'll be no rock big enough for you to hide under.
ALBERT CHUCKLES
Oh, no, no. I think it's you that's gonna need the rock
Chief Superintendent Jones.
SIRENS BLARE
Albert?
T'es prêt?
GUNFIRE
INDISTINCT SHOUTING IN FRENCH
GUNFIRE
Dad, let's move.
ARMED POLICE SHOUTING
Armed police! Nobody move!
Armed police, stay there!
The money!
Shit!
Come on!
In the van, Charlie. - Fuck!
INDISTINCT SHOUTING
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!
VIC: How do you suggest we do that? - Charlie, dock fourteen.
We'll meet you there. Go! Go!
POLICE SHOUT: Police, stop! Stop, now!
GUNSHOTS - VIC YELLS
Round there, boy. Round there.
Shit!
Drive! Come on!
Right, they're getting away!
SIRENS BLARE
CHARLIE GIGGLES
MUSIC: ♪ Cos I'm on fire, you can't touch me now ♪
♪ Cos I'm on fire, you can't touch me now ♪
IMPACT GRUNTS
Shit, they're gaining on us, Charlie!
I said fast!
BOTH YELL
VIC: Wrong way there! Oh! VIC LAUGHS
Where'd you learn to drive like this?
Reverse! Reverse, Charlie! Come on! Quicker!
They do not give up!
Easy, Charlie!
BILLY AND CHARLIE SCREAM
Oh, shit!
Fuck, no!
CORSICAN GRUNTS
DWYER WHISTLES
IMPACT GRUNT
Well, what do we do now?
Oh, shit. - POLICE: Step out of the car
with your hands up! - We pray for a bloody miracle.
CHARLIE: What's that? - BILLY: Oh, sh--
BILLY AND CHARLIE LAUGHING
Oh, we're really flying now, Charlie! - GUNSHOTS
VIC LAUGHS
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? HE SCOFFS
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-- - GUNSHOT AND BODY THUDS
You really are an animal, Dwyer.
The gold is by the water, sir.
Sailor boy! - IMPACT GRUNT
LOUD SPLASH
What are you doing with my gold, Petru?
It is my gold now, you son of a--
GUNSHOT
POLICEMAN: Don't move! I'll shoot!
Drop your gun!
Well... Don't be silly, son. - Drop your guns!
You bastard, sir. POLICEMAN: Drop it!
GUNSHOTS - POLICEMAN GRUNTS
It's been excruciating, Dwyer.
BILLY LAUGHS
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.
EXCITED INDISTINCT CHATTER
Come on then! Move it!
LILY AND LOTTI LAUGH
CHATTER AND CHEERING
VIC: Come on, baby!
Ah, shit! - LILY SQUEALS EXCITEDLY
DOG BARKS
Scooter! Sc-- Scooter, come on!
Come to Uncle Hate 'Em, little Scooter. Good boy! There you go.
HE PANTS AND GROANS
POLICE SIRENS BLARE
The fat lady sings.
HE CHUCKLES
MUSIC: "Furnaces" by Ed Harcourt
ALL CHEER
Come on!
Whoo-hoo-hoo!
THEY LAUGH
♪ 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.
CHARLIE CHUCKLES
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.
BILLY: Whoo!
Told you I'd sort it, Lil.
Yeah, I never doubted you for a minute, Victor.
VIC CHUCKLES
♪ ...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?
CHEERING AND WHOOPING
We're going to Spain, baby!
Whoo!
LILY LAUGHS