When I was born...
the world was a far simpler place.
It was all just...
cops and robbers.
Fuckin' get down! Get down now!
And you! Stay down! Stay down!
But it wasn't for me.
Then came the Summer of Love.
Hashish and LSD arrived on the scene.
There were villains locked away for 12 years
for robbing a bank of 10 grand,
doing time with drippy hippies who were doing 12 months
for smuggling 2 million quid's worth of puff.
I mean, work it out, mate.
We're in the wrong fucking game.
Drugs changed everything.
Always remember
that one day all this drug monkey-business will be legal.
They won't leave it to people like me.
Not when they finally figure out
how much money there is to be made.
Not millions. Fucking billions.
Recreational Drugs plc. Giving people what they want.
Good times today, stupor tomorrow.
But this is now.
So until prohibition ends, make hay while the sun shines.
I'm not a gangster.
I'm a businessman
whose commodity happens to be cocaine.
I mean, ten years ago,
a bit of charlie was for pop stars
or a celebrity's birthday bash.
It was demonized by Daily Mail readers
getting drunk in naff wine bars.
Now they're my biggest clients.
This is Clarkie.
Double first at Cambridge in Industrial Chemistry.
Well, he's gotta pay off his student loan somehow.
Today, I only deal in kilos.
And depending on which tariff you use,
that'll cost you either 28 grand
or 15 years in prison...
which is more time than a rapist.
C'est la vie.
It is vital that we work to a few golden rules:
Always work in a small team.
Keep a very low profile.
Only deal with people who come recommended.
I mean, it's like selling anything:
washing machines, handmade shoes, blowjobs.
As long as you don't take the piss,
people will always come back for more.
I mean, that's not to say
that we don't weave that special kind of magic
that makes two kilos into three,
but never be too greedy.
Know and respect your enemy.
It is only very, very stupid people
who think the law is stupid.
Fuckin' love you. I know.
And avoid like the fucking plague
loud, attention-seeking wannabe gangsters
in it for the glory, to be a face, to be a name.
Hello, Slavo.
Yeah, this is Duke.
Everything's sweet.
When can we meet?
They don't mean to fuck up.
They just do.
You know, forgive me for stating the obvious,
but stay away from the end-user.
They are guaranteed to bring you trouble.
As do guns.
I hate guns. And violence.
But...as some Roman general once said,
"If you seek peace, plan for war."
Morty and his assistant Terry, they watch my back.
Morty learnt to be cautious the hard way.
He did ten years inside.
He's my bridge to the criminal world,
and he ensures that the traffic is one-way.
Look, there's Amsterdam, and there's Oofdorfe. Dorfe.
Hey, I've no fuckin' clue.
None of 'em speak English.
Get in the car. Get in the car.
I'm sure it's that way.
Here you are, move up.
I bet you it's that way.
We've already been that way.
Yeah, but we're gonna go that way again.
Give us the map.
Say "please."
Gimme the map, I'm not saying please.
Oh, don't start, the pair of you.
For fuck's sake, it's like being out with a pair of kids.
All day you've been moaning.
It can't be that difficult. Oh, it's not me.
How many fucking greenhouses can there be?
Morty.
Hello.
Terence.
Thanks, mate.
Clarkie.
Very, very important:
Pay your supplier prompt.
In our case, that's Mr. Jimmy Price.
He's the top of the pyramid.
Pay him.
In full, on time, without fail, no short counts.
You get no second chances.
Jimmy calls the shots.
Where the fuck is Gene?
I don't know, mate. Ask me one on sport.
What time does your watch tell?
Probably the same as yours.
Well, he's never late.
Will you two shut the fuck up?
Patience.
Gene here is Jimmy's right-hand man.
Been with him since way back.
All the drugs and cash go through Gene.
Jimmy trusts him with his life.
Mm-hmm.
Oh, by the way...
Jimmy would like to see you tomorrow for a spot of lunch.
Wait a minute.
Is--? Is there a problem?
Why does everybody assume there's a problem,
just because Jimmy wants to have a word?
Maybe he's grateful.
He fuckin' should be.
See you at Stoke Park at 1.
All right.
This is just so beautiful.
Right, we need to get in and out of here sharpish.
Paul and the tide ain't gonna wait.
Everyone likes to walk through a door marked "Private."
Therefore, have a good reason to be affluent.
I own a share in a very successful letting agency.
It gives me an honest income.
Looks good on the self-assessment.
Whereas years ago,
scallywags were trying desperately hard
to get money out of banks.
Now your problem is,
how to get your ill-gotten gains into the bank.
Well, that's a job for Mr. Singh.
He does my laundry.
And in a week's time, it will be ready for collection
in the form of a nice, clean check for a round million.
The business is on the up and up.
But I've always said, have a plan and stick to it.
Quit while you're ahead.
So barring any fuck-ups, I'm leaving it all behind.
No. No, we got the parcel.
Yeah, better than expected, actually.
But it's just that things have gone
a little bit slightly turbo this end.
Come on, boys. Lively, lively.
If we miss this tide,
we're not going anywhere till daylight.
Paul, you ain't being paid to moan, mate.
You're being paid to get my cargo home.
Come on, babe. You all right? Yeah.
Careful here, it's a bit wobbly.
Life is so fucking good,
I can taste it in my spit.
I'll treat tomorrow's lunch like the Last Supper,
feign interest in the old boy's nostalgic tales...
and then leave quietly forever.
Thank you.
This is pure class.
Please, follow me, gentlemen.
Mr. Price is in the Oval Room.
Your guests, Mr. Price.
Thanks, Angelo.
Welcome. Sit down.
How you gettin' on with that Paki accountant I put your way?
He still doing the business?
Raj is doing a very good job. He's--
Good, good.
Paying your bit of straight-goer's tax, eh?
Well, we all have to do our bit, don't we, Mr. Price?
Say hello from me next time you see him.
You hungry?
The grub here will make your bollocks tingle.
Let's eat.
Right.
All we gotta do now is test
the ol' snap-crackle-and-pop factor on these little babies.
Well, don't ask me. I ain't fucking touchin' 'em.
You are a miserable bastard, you really are.
Brian.
What?
Sit down, mate.
Got a little treat for ya.
Help yourself.
A little privacy, please, Angelo.
What do you want, son?
Excuse me?
In life.
What are you after?
A shot at the title?
A seat by the band?
Well, I don't know, Mr. Price.
That's a very expansive question.
Right, expansive. Good answer.
You know, years ago,
some people would've thought you were a homosexual,
usin' a word like "expansive."
You're not a homosexual, are you?
No.
Not behind with the rent?
No.
No, I didn't think you were.
No harm in it, I suppose.
Times change.
You know why people like you can't leave this business?
Because you make too much money for people like me.
Anyway, I'll get to the point.
I need a favor.
I need someone who's a bit cute, a bit of a smooth operator.
Not a two-a-penny loudmouth. Too many grasses around.
Well...
it'd be a pleasure, Mr. Price.
Jimmy.
You can call me Jimmy.
Now, this favor.
It's not for me, if the truth be told.
It's for a good friend of mine.
Like a blood brother. We were at school together.
Now he's a right wheeler-dealer.
Flinging up skyscrapers.
His wife's a proper blue blood.
I'll give you a clue.
Eddie Temple.
Does that name mean anything to you?
I know who you mean.
Now, Eddie's got a daughter,
Charlie, bless her.
The light of his life.
He worships the ground she walks on.
She's a proper beauty, Charlie.
Or to give her her correct moniker,
Charlie Spencer-Temple.
But she ain't behavin' like a lady.
She's hooked on the white powder
and loves a wrong one.
And this is where you come in, right?
You're gonna find her.
Find her?
She's gone missin'.
Well...you should get a private detective.
Oh, right!
What, some nosy ex-policeman,
still on the payroll at Scotland Yard?
Yeah, but-- She's done a runner
from a drug-rehabilitation unit in the West Country.
Right, rehab.
She got loved up in there
with some fuckin' lowlife crackhead called Kinky.
Well, I reckon they've licked it
back to London.
I-- I wouldn't even know where to begin.
Every now and then, we're asked to do somethin'
above and beyond the call of duty.
It's called sacrifice, son.
Ask Gene.
Ask Morty.
I'll do my best.
You do your best and find her.
Keep Mr. McGuire posted.
I've also got a little business more in your usual line.
Gene will fill you in on the details.
I hope everything was to your satisfaction, Mr. Price?
Fuckin' excellent, Angelo!
Thank you.
"Details, details.
"Things to do, things to get done.
"Don't bother me with details. Just tell me when they're done."
Who said that, son?
W-Winston Churchill?
Close.
No, I said it.
James Lionel Price.
Good boy.
I'll see you two at the yard tomorrow. Say, 4:00?
I'll tell you about that bit of business.
I've set up a meet for 5 with the Duke.
What's with him?
He's just had one of these.
These are super E's, mate. We're gonna make millions!
Hey, I don't care.
This is my boatyard, man.
Now, I want those pills
and that fuckin' idiot out of here now.
I can't afford to get nicked.
Paul, Paul. Calm down, mate. What's a matter with ya?
I got Gene comin' down with a buyer.
You'll be in your whack.
Here, chill. Have a pill.
Gene...
why are we doing business with the Duke?
Yeah, why are we dealing with this joker?
He's a fucking maniac, a relic, a throwback.
Belongs to the Dark Ages, Gene.
Will you just shut the fuck up?
We're dealing with the Duke
because he has one million Ecstasy pills
of very high levels of MDMA, okay?
One million?
Gene, that is a lot of pills. What's the tax on that?
Jimmy wants 50 percent netto.
Love a bit of cloak-and-dagger, this lot, don't they?
Oh, yeah.
Driving a bright-yellow Range Rover.
Very subtle.
Will you two calm down?
You'll feel better once you've got your money.
Yeah, but how much can you spend
in Parkhurst or the Scrubs, Gene?
Come on. Mm-hm.
Oh. Don't go gettin' Duke at it.
Jimmy doesn't want him fucked about, okay?
Who? Me?
Don't you fucking talk to me like I'm some kind of mug!
Easy. Don't you talk--
Duke...
don't take this personally.
It's business.
Now, you wanna know how much these pills are worth.
Yes! Fucking! Please!
Right. Now just because you pay a fiver a pop
down the local cattle market, don't...
Don't, for fuck's sake,
start thinking these pills are worth millions.
They're not.
We've gotta find someone to buy these pills.
And they've gotta split them up into parcels of, say, 100,000.
They've gotta find these people. It's hard work.
Oh! You'd give a fucking aspirin a headache, pal!
Then you've got currency fluctuations.
You've got police activity. You got adverse publicity.
You tell me, who has got the readies lying around
to pay for a million Es?
This is fucking bollocks!
Slasher, shut the fuck up!
Duke, we all want a good deal out of this.
Mate, mate, mate, mate, mate.
Mate, look.
That parcel of pills has got to be worth 5 million easy.
Five pound each. Yeah!
You are fucking joking!
It doesn't work like that!
Don't keep fuckin' saying that to me!
I've got some samples.
I'll stay in touch through Gene, okay?
You wouldn't be so fuckin' flash
if you didn't have him behind you, would ya, eh?
Yeah.
Well, he fuckin' has, ain't he?
Where the fuck did these monkeys get a million Es?
Don't worry about that. Can you place them?
Well, we know someone up north who can buy them.
Morty, set up a meeting with Trevor and Shanks in Liverpool.
What's really bothering me, of course,
is what color to get the Aston.
Uh...well, as you're driving it yourself,
probably green is a good idea.
Green? Yeah.
Well, that's a trifle dull, I thought.
What do you think, girls?
Black. Yeah, black.
Black. You can't have black.
Black's the color for a hearse or a taxi.
Don't be so conservative.
I think black's a splendid idea.
Oh, hello. Look who it is.
Sit down. Do join us.
Can we have a word?
Our dreary broker has arrived.
Hugo, follow me.
Don't go anywhere. We're coming back.
Drink some more champagne.
Especially you. I like it when you're drunk.
Yeah, you're the master of that.
What are you up to at the moment?
Oh, we're doing the number on these young American birds.
Who am I today?
You, my son, are in fact, the Earl of Oxford.
Heh. The Earl of Oxford.
Fuckin' hell.
So, what's this bit of business?
It's something a bit strange.
Can you find somebody for me really quickly?
Well, how quickly?
Twenty grand quickly.
Okay, you've got our attention.
What you got there?
Mmm, very nice.
I suppose this is the boyfriend?
It's a bit unusual for you, this, isn't it?
What's going on?
Doesn't matter. Can you do it?
Yeah.
Should be a doddle.
All the same, aren't they?
Fucking junkies and crackheads.
Chuck 'em a few quid, they'll cough.
Is there anything else?
No.
All right, well, we must get back to work, old boy.
Hey, look-- Oi.
All right, mate.
I'm the-- I'm the Duke's nephew.
Remember me? Sidney.
Sidney. Yes. Hello, mate. How are you?
I'm just off. You have a nice night.
How--? How you doin'? What you doin' here?
I hear you're doin' business with my uncle, the Duke.
Oh, great, why don't you tell the whole fuckin' room?
This is Tammy.
Who's your mate, Sidney?
He's a good mate of my uncle's, the Duke.
He was just going.
Yeah, well, stick around
and have a drink before you do, yeah?
Yeah. All right.
Yeah. I got VIP down here. Nice little booth.
Charisma, he's fucking got it.
I mean, I know he's my uncle and all that,
but you can't deny it, know what I mean?
Oi, if you want anything, all right,
just tell me, because I got 'em right straightened out in here.
If you want any running about here, I'm your man...
Line?
What?
I said, "Do you want a line?"
No, mate.
You knock yourself out.
Lovely, isn't she?
Isn't she a darling?
Isn't she.
Siddy, baby, I could do with a livener.
Ring me.
Sidney.
It's been great.
I'll see you, man. Thank you.
Thanks for the champagne.
All right.
You let me know when you're happy, Mr. Lucky.
Too warm down your way?
We're kept busy, Trevor.
Everyone wants a slice as well.
Same wherever you go.
Greedy people.
Yeah. It's all clear, Shanks.
You...lot...
would know all about that, wouldn't you?
What the fuck's that, Shanks?
Well, not you lot, but, uh...
that team down your end.
Like you don't know.
No offense, Shanks,
but what the fuck are you talkin' about?
You really do surprise me, do you know that?
Do you know something we don't?
Don't...
be givin' it...
the big fuckin'...
innocent, pal.
Because I am not a fucking prick.
I never said you were, Shanks.
Cool it, Shanks.
They really don't know.
Explain.
I was over in Amsterdam.
Last weekend, right?
The whole place is alight...
with a rumor
about how this hooligan outfit from down your end,
run by this, uh,
this joker.
He's called the Duke...
Gazza, go and find
them fuckin' pills.
All right. Come on.
Have a look in here.
Now, they skanked this outfit,
like a proper, nutty Serbian militia.
No, Mr. Duke,
you're the first person ever
to be foolish enough to steal from me.
Shut up.
But you're not the first to hold a gun to my head.
Shut up, or I'll be the last.
Fuck me.
And they got lucky
because he'd just knocked up a massive batch.
Fucking jackpot.
There's fucking millions of the fuckers in here.
Ooh. Ooh-hoo-hoo.
Stay there. Yes?
You watch them.
That looks very heavy for you...darling.
Fuck off.
Why don't you put it down?
Why don't you shut up? Look at you.
Little girl playing games with guns.
I ain't no fuckin' little girl. Why don't you shut up?!
You-- You are shaking.
Fuck off! Why don't you shut up?!
Look at your arm.
I said, fuck off, yeah?
Put it down.
I ain't listenin' to you!
Shut up! Sit down!
Fuck off! Sit down!
Baby, baby, baby, baby!
Baby. Come here. Come here.
Baby, calm down, calm down. Shh, shh, shh.
This will not be the end of this, Mr. Duke. Believe me.
Gazza...
go and load them pills.
But he got unlucky
because this lot are wanted for fucking war crimes!
Mass murder, ethnic cleansin'.
They're lunatics.
They're wanted by the United fuckin' Nations.
Think about that.
Let's get this clear.
Duke has absolutely
sweet fuck-all to do with us, understand?
Everyone in Amsterdam believes that he has.
Bandied your names about.
What?
Word on the straat
is they've unleashed their top boy.
His name is...
Now, his party piece, right...
is lopping people's heads off...
then fetching 'em back to his boss.
It's all about honor and respect
with these head-bangi'' nationalist outfits.
That's right, they can't have it gettin' about that anybody
has took liberties with them.
But we had absolutely nothing to do with the acquiring of....
said merchandise.
Okay, we accept that, okay?
But, uh...
with you lot up here...
puntin' this shipment, you tell me,
how does it look?
Bad.
You do know, don't you, that...
we're only talkin' pennies an article?
Stolen goods.
You won't want them, then.
Sit down, lad.
Let's not be too hasty.
Me and him need to have a little think.
Well, don't think too long.
because someone's gonna make a killing on these pills.
They already have.
That's the problem, kidder.
That prick Duke's made us look a bunch of fuckin' amateurs.
I told you he was trouble, didn't I?
But he ain't gonna drag me down with him.
Try Gene again.
What a fucki'' show-up!
He's not answerin', Mort.
Okay.
Try Jimmy at home.
You sure?
Will you fuckin' ring him?
Where are we goin', Morty?
Back to that boatyard.
Somebody's about to get a fuckin' slap.
Yes, Morty. About fucking time.
Paul?
What a way to go.
An iron burning a hole in your chest until your heart boils.
Paulie would've told him anything, then, wouldn't he?
You see...
that's what happens
when you do business with loons.
Clarkie.
Have a sniff about.
Make some phone calls, but really quietly.
Find out where the Duke's holed up.
We're gonna need an insurance policy.
What's the fuckin' idea
of phonin' me at home
and leaving messages, you little prick!
Jimmy, it was an emergency.
Don't fucking call me Jimmy, you little toerag!
And what's the idea of telling Duke those pills
ain't worth shit?
Oh, you don't know the problems you've caused.
And don't be leavin' it to that pair of ponces,
Cody and Tiptoes,
to be findin' that bitch Charlie.
I fucking told you to do it!
You listenin'?
Find a buyer for those pills.
The person charged with moving those pills
met with a very nasty end.
I don't give a fuck!
That was quick.
Well, I gotta tell you, the gaff is rotten in there.
Kinky's still here, isn't he?
Look, didn't Tiptoes tell you on the phone?
Tell me what?
Have you let him go?
No, I haven't.
He's in here.
Kinky.
I still want to be paid.
So if I've assessed the situation correctly,
which I think I have,
you three gearheads will be clucking very soon.
In fact, you look like you're clucking already.
You'll be climbing the fuckin' walls any minute, aren't you?
But I'm prepared to do you a favor.
You see, we can do this one of two ways.
We can do it the nice way.
Which I think you'll prefer.
Because the other way is,
is that my friend here takes you one by one
and puts your head through the fuckin' window!
Right, so...
was Charlie here with Kinky?
Yeah, she was here for a couple of days.
Kinky turned up with 5 grand.
Five grand. Who's givin' Kinky 5 grand?
We don't know.
Them two kept arguing.
She was saying, "Do you think it's that easy
taking the five grand, messing him about?"
But she was still canin' the rocks,
- and smokin' the gear. - Where is she now?
Brighton. She kept beggin' Kinky to go with her.
The other night, I hears this noise.
I'm like lookin' out there. And it's dark.
But I sees this geezer, like,
and he's creepin' around, all in black.
It's like something out of a fuckin' kung fu film.
Pay no attention to him. He's a fuckin' nutter.
You, son, shut the fuck up!
And you... You fucking tell him now.
What geezer?
I don't know.
I goofed out myself.
And the next morning,
she's gone, and fuckin' Kinky's dead.
What, you tryin' to tell me, that somebody's topped Kinky?
Kinky fuckin' overdosed. He always was a greedy fucker.
He didn't go over, man, I saw it with my very own eyes.
You smoke too much of that fucking crack!
Shut the fuck up! I told you!
You twat! Shut the fuck up!
Money, money! Get the fuckin' money!
Morty! Morty!
Oi, this is dodgy, mate.
That kid's talkin' about murder.
He's talkin' shit.
Now, just get to Brighton and finish the job.
I gotta talk to Tiptoes. It smells fishy.
I'll double your money.
All right. And I want ten G for finding Kinky.
That wasn't the fuckin' deal.
Yes or no?
Yes.
Hello.
Ambulance, please.
185 Kirby House, King's Cross.
There's a dead boy. The door's open.
My name...?
185 Kirby House.
I'm not happy.
This shit is out of control.
You sort it out, or I'll sort you out.
Morty...Kinky OD'd, that's all.
Charlie woke up, found him cold,
freaked out, fucked off down to Brighton.
Cody's gonna find her.
Look, I'm gonna freshen these teas up. They're cold.
Morty?
Is that you?
Where you been hiding, then, eh?
Fuckin' hell.
What you doing down this neck of the woods, eh?
Hello, Freddie.
Yeah.
So...
Mr. Mortimer, eh?
Here, Morty,
couldn't spare us a few quid, could ya?
For old times' sake, know what I mean?
You look well flushed, bruv.
Fuck me, he's loaded.
Here, couldn't make it five, could you...
mate?
Let's make it ten.
Yeah.
Ten's...
a nice...
round number.
What's the matter with ya?!
What's happening? Been away?
Yeah. Ten fucking years!
You want off? Or you need a red light?
Morty. Enough. He's had enough!
I'll tell you when he's fucking had enough!
What is this? What the fuck is this?
But let's forget about all that.
Let's have a cup of tea, Mr. Hurst.
What the fuck?
I'm sorry about that. I won't be around for a while.
It's me. Hey.
Yeah, come on up. I'll leave the door open.
Hey.
How's your day been so far?
Very fucki'' funny.
Have you eaten? I'll have a Chinky sent up.
No, I'm fine, thank you.
Gene, who the fuck is Freddie?
Freddie used to run with me, Morty and Jimmy
in this real kamikaze firm.
In those days,
we were headed up by this guy called Crazy Larry.
Yeah. Got shot, didn't he? Bit of a lunatic.
That's an understatement. They were a spun-out bunch.
Always doing loads of drugs.
Hey!
Not worried about keeping a low profile. I love you.
Turn over anyone who couldn't go screamin' to the law.
No fuckin' problem. Boys will be boys.
Until one of them, Kilburn Jerry...
...shoots himself stone-fuckin' dead.
Now this is a bit of a dilemma, because this desperate posse
can't call the law or an ambulance.
Morty, out of some mad fuckin' sense of loyalty,
actually volunteered to dispose of the body.
No head. But things went a bit wrong.
The guy Larry told to help him was Freddie Hurst.
The total imbecile had fallen asleep at some traffic lights
in a drunken, drug-induced stupor.
Morty was still shut up in the back of the van
with the headless body of Kilburn Jerry.
In those days, bein' black was even worse than bein' Irish.
They threw the book at Morty.
Freddie got three years for aiding and abetting.
So Morty did ten years because Freddie Hurst fell asleep?
But he kept his mouth shut.
Did his bird.
Earned a lot of respect for that.
And all because some kid
was being ridden against his will
by a bullyin' psychotic lunatic.
Who?
But you!
You fuck!
Larry.
Crazy Larry was gay.
He was never gay.
Larry used to say...
Fucking females is for puffs.
So who shot Crazy Larry, one of his boyfriends?
Probably.
Larry made enemies very easy.
Took liberties with too many straight lads.
Not for me.
Listen, son.
Let me explain something to you.
Freddie's in intensive care
with a bit of a brain hemorrhage.
You were there at the scene.
That's called joint venture.
Now, if Freddie dies,
you're either in the dock with Morty,
or you're in the witness box putting him away.
Think about that.
You know, I-- I will have one of those.
Oh, yeah.
All right, fellas?
Where's Duke?
I don't know.
What do you mean, you don't know?
I don't know. I thought he was here.
Well, go and fucking find him!
He's probably havin' a night out
while us fuckin' mugs babysit these.
Gene.
What the fuck am I gonna do about these Serbs?
Come here. I have something for you.
You're gonna need one of these.
Fuck me, Gene.
I fucking hope not.
Are you trying to scare the shit out of me?
I mean, I fucking hate guns.
Although that one is really pretty.
What is that, Second World War?
Hey! Point it upwards, huh?
Oh, for fuck's sake.
Here, let me see if it's loaded.
Huh.
You look like you could do that blindfolded.
I can.
And I do.
I find it very relaxing.
Good for meditation.
See, meditation...
is concentratin' the front of the mind with a mundane task
so the rest of the mind can find peace.
And you find peace with guns.
On occasion. It has been known.
Listen.
I know it's not your thing.
But if you ever have to kill somebody,
never, ever tell a living soul.
Who is this?
My name is Dragan.
How'd you get this number?
Boatman Paul gave me your number, in the end.
I believe you have some property
that belongs to my employer.
And you're the person I should talk to
about the return of this cargo,
stolen by your associate, the Duke.
Uh...Dragan...
the Duke is nothing to do with me.
Mr. Duke came to Amsterdam, used your name,
said he worked for you.
Are you listening?
Dragan...
I've got an idea.
Why don't you come round for breakfast?
I'll squeeze some orange juice and grind some coffee,
and we can talk about this like adults.
How does that sound? Hmm?
Sounds very hospitable.
Do you know where I live?
No.
Well, fuck off, then.
Duke's gone missing.
He's a fuckin' liability.
The pigs are everywhere.
This was meant to be piss easy,
no fuckin' sweat.
Calm down, Gazza.
I'm sure Duke's just fine.
Well, you've got 48 hours to find a buyer
or I'm sending 'em back, Okay?
Now, listen.
Don't do anything stupid, Gazza.
Nah, it ain't worth the grief.
We've gone underground, mate.
Off the radar. Nothing personal,
but I don't trust you or any fucker.
Oh.
Listen...
I just had a phone call from Gazza.
Bein' a crybaby.
Threatenin' to offload those pills in 48 hours.
Between you and that gobshite Duke,
he's promised Jimmy a bumper payday.
So better get busy, hadn't you?
Hey, look, I said to Jimmy I'd try and--
He put yous together.
You and Duke. That's his job. Huh?
If you two can't make music...
he's gonna want his whack out either way.
That's business.
Well, I hope you put this Dragan straight.
Yeah. I told him to fuck off.
What? Please tell me you're fucking joking.
Well, I am beginning to regret it now.
We've gotta find the Duke.
Find these fucking pills.
We can't rely on these monkeys
to call Gene whenever it suits them.
I've looked everywhere. There's no sign. They've gone offside.
You're telling me you can't find any of his firm?
Maybe this Dragan geezer's
already found the Duke and, you know...
...done the business.
Well, there is someone I can call.
You two, keep looking.
Uh, wait, wait.
You're gonna leave it to us?
This Dragan geezer is phoning me.
I am the target.
And if we don't find the Duke, this...
everything, all over.
Hello.
Hello, it's me... Sidney's mate.
Oh, hiya.
What took you so long to call?
I've-- I've been busy.
You sound sleepy. You just woken up?
Yeah, not long ago.
So when am I gonna see ya?
Well, what are you doing now?
Nothing.
No, I was just lyin' in bed,
wondering what to do.
You still in bed?
Yeah.
You lying there naked?
I've got a little T-shirt on.
But that's all.
Here, wait, listen to this.
What's that?
I was just rubbin' the phone against my fanny.
Did you like it?
My, oh, my, it's fresh this morning.
Look at my nipples...standing up like little soldiers.
What is a girl to do, eh?
Tammy...
Uh, why don't we meet up now, and...
I'll book a table for lunch.
St. Martin's Hotel. Don't worry about a table.
We'll have room service.
Yeah, okay.
One hour.
Hang on.
Oh, shit.
Oh, leave it off, Sidney.
He's drivin' me fuckin' mad.
We're not expecting Sidney, are we?
No, he's too busy kissing Duke's arse.
Not round here, I hope.
No. Over by Greenwich market.
So you can relax, lover-boy.
It's just the two of us.
Patience.
All good things come to those who wait.
Uh-huh.
Stay put.
Come on.
Hello, it's me.
It's me.
Look, shut up and listen.
Sidney, Duke's nephew,
is working down by Greenwich Market.
Go and have a look.
Room service.
Yeah, well, look for that yellow Range Rover.
Okay.
Your champagne, sir.
I didn't order--
One moment, Mr. Troop.
I want to hear what this callous bastard
has to say for himself.
I'm Jimmy's old colleague...
Eddie Temple.
Fuck!
He told you
to locate my daughter,
hunt her down like some lost mongrel.
He said you asked for his help.
Mr. Troop... could find
anyone on the planet in 10 minutes flat.
If you laid a finger on my little daughter, Charlotte,
you'd be over the edge like...
...that.
You'd join that other little shit, Kinky,
who thought he could take my 5 grand and fuck me over.
The audacity.
How fuckin' dare you?
I've known Jimmy Price for 45 years.
It pays me to keep an eye on him.
Do you know what a remora fish is?
Yes.
Oh, you do?
Well, Jimmy has been swimming in my slipstream
all my fuckin' life.
I thought he might put some volatile psychopath on the job.
But I've checked you out, son.
You're a smart boy.
But you keep very, very bad company.
You know, I host a charity golf tournament every year.
It's quite an event in the social calendar,
even though I say so myself.
I like to invite Jimmy.
Some of my friends find him absurdly hilarious.
Drinks are on me! Drinks for everyone!
Champagne!
Fucking good gear and all!
But I've come unstuck in my attempts
to provide a spectacle... for my chums.
Jimmy, as usual, on the lookout for tidbits,
has made the acquaintance
of the development minister of some tin-pot republic.
They're trawling the West for investments.
They have vast deposits of natural resources.
Quite an investment for the right man.
They've sent in men from Timbuktu,
explaining all the details:
profits, shares,
long-term investments, short-term investments.
They've even made him an honorary citizen.
Even made him
one of the tribe.
What we didn't know, until it all ended in tears,
was that the hard-line communist insurgents
who control the country outside the mining areas...
Bad news about our little venture, Jim.
The communists have broken through the government lines,
headin' for the capital with little resistance.
What the fuck are you on about?
I got word they were planning a major push.
The final coup de grâce. I told Jimmy...
It's all over, Jim.
Fuck's sake!
Keep your voice down, would ya?
Get my money out. Quick. Now.
As if it was some little kiddie's piggy bank.
Now, I explained that wasn't possible.
We thought we'd bought a government.
Maybe someone made a better offer.
Have a drink, forget about it.
You win some, you lose some.
How much are we talking here, Mr. Temple?
It's only a cheeky half-mil, Jim.
It's much more than that.
How much?
Thirteen.
Thirteen what?
Thriteen million pounds.
I'm fucked.
What the fuck?
Have you gone fucking mad?
Thirteen million pounds!
Cor--
How could you be so fucking stupid?
You've been right grafted, royally turned over,
like some fucking Yank buying London Bridge.
Don't you talk to me like that.
He accused me of instigating it.
It's no coincidence I met those fuckers at your tournament.
Are you fucking demented?
Asked me to fly to Zurich to negotiate with the minister
who was still parked up in La Maison Grande,
still eating well.
Big fat fucker.
On little Jimmy's nest egg.
So Jimmy thought he could keep Charlotte hostage
while you went to Zurich to get his money back.
Little Jimmy was so stupid,
he thought he couldn't lose either way.
I-I'm sorry, what?
Well, if you'd find Charlotte, he's got his hostage.
If I find you trying to find her,
I do his dirty work.
I'm still not with you.
Your lives are inextricably linked.
You see, I've found out
something very interesting about Jimmy...
something I've long suspected.
But...
I'll let Jimmy explain.
You follow me.
You've no doubt suffered Jimmy's
"CID was geezers you was at school with" routine.
The other chap's Albert Carter,
another twisted bastard from the old neighborhood.
Member of the Regional Crime Squad.
Now you sit back, relax, enjoy.
It ain't like doing business
with your lot in the old days.
They've all gone squeaky on me.
Tell me about it, Jim.
I have to box real clever
with those wired-up college boys from Anti-Corruption.
Fucking dogs. Slags.
Ten grand?
Well, that's the going rate, Jim.
Ten K. Hardly seems worth the bother.
Well...
...there's only so much in those informer funds.
Now, what about Gene?
Does he suspect anything?
What?
About me workin' for the old firm? Listen.
Gene...
is too loyal for his own good.
He can do a cryptic crossword...
I don't fucking believe it.
You better believe it.
Because it's fuckin' happenin'.
Where did you get this?
Mr. Troop made it for me.
It's one of his little hobbies.
I don't fucking believe it.
Shhh.
Don't you want to hear what Jimmy has to say about you?
I've got one for you.
Plucked and ready for the pot.
Just give us a name, and he's gone.
In time.
I don't want a bunce. I want him out of the way.
Flash young runt.
One of the new breed, ain't he?
Reckons he can just waltz off into retirement.
I want him away for 12.
Well, if he's got a kilo of class A onboard,
he's looking at double figures.
I'll put it there myself.
Sounds personal, Jim.
Ah, he's got a few quid tucked away.
He's gonna come right in handy.
It was me that set him up
with that slippery accountant in the first place.
Fucking rag-head let slip, didn't he?
"You will miss him when he's gone, Mr. Price."
Is that you? The flash runt who thinks he's retiring?
You'd no idea what Jimmy was up to?
How do you think these fuckers earn a living?
I would've thought a smart young man like you
would know that already.
Can I have that?
Mr. Troop.
Yup.
Thank you.
This looks like you, son. Smart part of town.
Anyway, I'll keep an eye open.
Must dash off. Get home. Wash and brush up.
Opera tonight. The Damnation of Faust.
Man sells his soul to the devil.
All ends in tears. These arrangements usually do.
One more thing, young man.
Always remember, the art of good business
is being a good middleman.
Bye-bye.
Fuck!
Are you dead?! Why can't you--?
Please...
cut away the shades,
then bend it gently back to the museum.
This cutaway poster--
...by bending it gently back to--
Yes.
I've got him.
Got who?
Sidney, remember? Yellow Range Rover?
Seems they sent our little friend out
to get somethin' to eat.
Good.
Tell Morty.
So, what do we do now?
Call Morty.
Hello.
Shut up and listen.
No more insults, no more games.
If I do not get my cargo back, you're a dead man.
Dragan.
Dragan... I've been doing some checking.
I've found out who you represent.
Good.
I think I can point you
in the direction of your boss's merchandise.
Come to my hotel room-- No, look, please,
I don't mean to be discourteous,
but I think I'd rather meet you in a public place.
You have nothing to fear.
I'm a reasonable man.
That's not what I've heard.
I'll meet you at...
I'll meet you at Greenwich Park Observatory.
Any taxi driver will drop you off there.
I can read a map.
Tomorrow. Midday.
Tomorrow at 12.
I'll be there.
That's rude, Mr. Dragan.
Hey.
Condition's red down there, pal.
They're didgy as fuck.
They haven't moved from that lockup.
Have a look at the geezer at the front, on the door.
I definitely know him from somewhere.
This could get a bit messy, you know.
What about the blokes in the red? What're they doin'?
They're just mechanics.
They got their own ringing coup goin' on.
The lorries come in at night one color,
and go out in the morning another.
But they're nothin' to do with the Duke's boys.
Fuck me, look who it isn't.
Who's that?
It doesn't matter.
I've got work to do.
You stay here. If those pills move, you call me, right?
Yeah, you got it. You got it.
Day and night, Terry.
What do you mean "night"? Day and night.
I've been here all day. Get Clarkie to do it.
Day and fuckin' night. You got it?
Hello, young man.
Thank you for coming at such short notice.
I hope you didn't feel too summoned.
How are ya?
I'm in the best of health, Mr. Temple.
Thank you for asking.
How are you keeping?
I'm very well, thank you.
How was the performance of Faust?
Complex.
No wonder it took him 60 years to write it.
How's the family?
What the fuck is this? A vicar's tea party?
Well, Mr. Temple, you have been known
to take your conversations away with you.
Oh, being a clever bastard, are we?
How do I know you're not wired up?
Well, I'm not.
Then we'll have to trust each other, won't we?
Sit down.
I've been thinking, after our chat the other day.
Your pills.
How much for the lot?
No, I've already got a buyer.
Nearly took my hand off.
Puttin' the money together now.
I told you, lad. I'm still thinkin'.
It's only been three days. What's the fuckin' hurry?
What's he paying for 'em?
I can't tell you that. It's confidential.
Don't be an idiot. Let me match his offer.
They've got history.
Bad juju.
And anyway, this Serbian maniac's in hot pursuit.
See, the thing is, if I sold them to you,
I'd have to disappoint him.
And he is definitely not the sort of person--
I did you a big fucking favor lettin' you know about Jimmy.
I think you owe me.
Two and a half million, in sterling and euros,
high-denomination used notes.
So if I gave you three million, that would keep everyone happy.
Let me state my position.
You can sell these pills to whoever you like.
That's your privilege. That's your business.
But I'll tell you,
I'll be very, very unhappy... if you don't sell them to me.
You understand?
Okay, Mr. Temple.
Three million. Done.
My buyer's not gonna be happy, though.
Fuck him.
He'll get over it.
I'm gonna need some help.
Someone who can eliminate the problem.
Someone who's a bit handy, yeah?
Whoa! Slow down, kidder.
Mr. Lucky does a drop of freelance work.
I don't need to know.
It's none of my business.
You tell him when, and he'll come down on the train.
Thanks, Trev.
Excuse me.
Mr. Temple.
You deliver them to my bonded warehouse.
When do I get my consignment?
Monday. No, wait. Tuesday, probably.
Tuesday? I'm paying over the odds, remember?
England! Typical.
Even drug dealers don't work weekends.
That's good news. That should cheer Gene up.
Yeah. Everything's under control. Mm-hmm.
Better be. Cody's been chasin' his 10 grand. Better pay him.
Yeah. I'll call him later.
Hey. Hey.
Hey, Geno, what's up?
Got some good news, Gene.
Oh, yeah? What's that?
You murderin' bastard!
Gene, open the fuckin' door!
Stay out of this, Morty. You're gonna tell me...
Gene!
You murderin' bastard!
- Murder? Who's dead? - Jimmy.
Jimmy's dead?
He killed him.
Blew his fucking head away.
Open this fuckin' door!
Why? Why?
Open this fuckin' door!
You're fucking dead!
What the fuck...?
Get off him. No, listen!
Listen. Just listen.
What the fuck--?
Listen to me, Morty!
I got a call earlier from a cozzer we've got bent.
They found Jimmy's body last night!
In his own backyard. It was this sly bastard.
This boy's no killer, man.
Somebody's made a fucking mistake.
All right, look. Here. We'll see, we'll see.
Read it. Read it out loud.
"To senior ranks only.
Murder Squad investigation. Victim: James Lionel Price."
The ballistics report. Read the fuckin' ballistics report.
"Preliminary ballistics report.
"No arms recovered. Disintegrated on impact.
One recovered cartridge casing."
You forgot to take the cartridge case.
Didn't you? You got sloppy!
"Eject pattern consistent with weapon used
"in unsolved homicide of Lawrence Francis Gower,
also known as Crazy Larry Flynn."
Wait a minute. I got it.
Whoever killed Crazy Larry must've killed Jimmy.
No, no, no.
The gun. The fucking gun was the same!
The one he stole from my flat.
You killed Crazy Larry?
So?
This fucker killed Jimmy.
Oh, Jesus Christ!
Why did you do it?
He was an informer!
He was a police informer!
Jimmy a grass? Are you fuckin' mad?
You'll have to do better than that.
I've got a recording at home...
of Jimmy and a cozzer called Albie Carter.
Gene...
let's listen to this shit.
If he's lyin'...we'll both fuckin' kill him.
Mr. Mortimer reckons
the Tylers are bringing in shooters
from Jamaica via Manchester.
They got someone in Immigration straightened out.
Oh, I don't think anybody gives a fuck
about spades shooting spades.
Don't you care about dead darkies, Albert?
And what about Gene? Does he suspect anything?
What? About me working for the old firm?
Convinced?
You don't fuck about, do you?
Jimmy was skint, huh?
That's why he set up the whole Amsterdam business with Duke.
Mm-hm.
I really think that we should
keep all of this to ourselves, right?
Really?
Why did you kill Larry?
Well...
funny enough, it was Jimmy who persuaded me.
Jimmy never liked Larry from the start.
Look at that wrong'un wavin' his money around.
It ain't right.
Hey, I love you, man.
Because he saw the future was drugs,
and it needed to be run like a business.
Crazy Larry was no fuckin' businessman.
After that business with Kilburn Jerry...
That's it, son. You do him.
Bollocks!
...he wanted him gone.
I didn't have any problem doin' him.
That's why I did it.
But why did you keep the gun?
Sounds silly now, but...
it was me favorite.
Hope you don't tell the other guns you got favorites.
So what's the next move, boss?
Well, I'm going to bed.
Don't know what you two are doing.
We can talk about it tomorrow.
Bonjour. Ça va?
Sorry?
Mesdames, messieurs, mes enfants.
Sorry, mate, what was that?
Would you pack that in, pal?
I've got a fuckin' test next week.
Okay.
Okay, I'm sorry. I was just saying...
Je m'appelle Jean-Paul.
Je suis Anglais.
So when does the target get here, then?
The target?
Um, the target's gonna be here at exactly midday.
Where?
Here. Right fucking here.
You got a photo? It's okay. Don't worry about it.
Who's worried?
I'm gonna have some binoculars.
I'll give you a little signal when he...
I could get the 10 past 1 home from here.
Let's have a little recce.
After we do the business, walk slowly back.
Remember, it's a stroll in the park.
Don't run, whatever you do.
The first five minutes,
nobody's gonna have a clue what's goin' on.
Hopefully, it'll be mayhem.
So try to stay relaxed.
Don't do anything to draw attention to yourself.
Or me.
Afterwards,
take me to the Underground station.
I'll look after meself.
There.
Time?
Uh...
6 minutes to 12.
I hope this fellow's not gonna be late.
Maybe he'll be early.
That'd be nice.
Can you see that guy on the left?
Big fella, marchin' up the hill.
That's our man.
Are you sure?
For fuck's sake. I'm gonna call him.
It's up to you. You're the client.
As soon as he answers, he's gone, okay?
Okey-dokey.
Stand by.
Now.
Hello.
May I help you?
Don't move a muscle.
Do I have your attention?
Yes.
You English...
You have no idea of honor and respect.
I usually kill for less.
I want my cargo and the Duke.
I haven't got your pills. Just give me a day.
Ooh, jeez!
Don't piss in my pocket and tell me it's raining.
Now listen for the last time. You'll bring me what is mine.
Look, I don't--
Jesus!
You have one more day.
See you tomorrow at dusk by the statue.
And remember, I will be watching you.
What the fuck were you thinkin' about?!
Gettin' Trevor's man down here
to shoot this Serb in a public park?!
Trevor's gonna go ballistic.
Now, what the fuck do I tell him? Hmm?
What a fucking mess you've made! You've gone fuckin' mad.
You think you're a gangster? Fuck off!
You wanna play? Well, you do it somewhere else.
Because if you do it near me,
I'll put you in a fucking wheelchair.
Stick to your fuckin' sums.
Listen. Listen to me.
Dragan's already killed Paul. He's done the Duke.
He just put a bullet right between Lucky's eyes.
I was fuckin' there!
He's watching our every move. I mean, who's next, me?
I wish. Oh, fuck off!
Look, it could be you or Morty.
Dragan said he wanted the pills and the Duke. Where's the Duke?
What?
I should've told you this earlier.
Duke and Slasher came by the office the other day.
What?
Look, Paul the Boatman was topped last night, right?
I mean, I've got to get on my toes sharpish.
Oi! I want Jimmy brought here right now, yeah?
Getting that smug fuckin' yuppie bastard
to tell Duke those pills were useless
after sendin' us over there in the fuckin' first place!
Hey, hang on. You've lost me now.
Yeah, well, if you have us over,
I swear by fuckin' almighty God, I'll call the fuckin' law.
Oi, Slasher, what are you talkin' about?
I swear I'll fuckin' call the law!
She didn't mean that. I do!
She's upset.
Shut the fuck up!
I'll call the fuckin'-- Oh!
That's where playin' at bein' a gangster gets you.
You're not in there because I like you.
I'm beginnin' to feel left out.
Why?
I seem to remember Freddie Hurst is still in intensive care
after your jolly little reunion the other day.
Fuckin' hell, Duke.
For once, you might be of some use.
That was Gazza on the phone.
It's on.
He'll pick you up at 9:00 in the morning.
Gallows Corner. You know it?
Yeah. Hey...
With Jimmy gone,
these pills are gonna make a nice, fat contribution
to my retirement fund,
so don't fuck things up again, okay?
If you do...
you'll wish this Dragan had shot you
between the eyes, understand?
Best of luck.
Thanks.
Hello.
Fuck off!
Sidney, I've told you, stop answering my phone, okay?
Who was it?
Wrong number, Tam.
All right, mate? Hello, Sidney.
How you doin', then?
I'm all right, thank you, Sidney. How are you?
I'm all right, mate, yeah.
Gazza, this place stinks.
We want to get you out of here.
Fifty pence a pill.
At least that way, we all come out with something.
Yeah, I think they're worth a lot more than that.
Oh, for chrissake, Gazza, this is a reality check!
Now, Paul's dead. Jimmy's dead.
Duke and Slasher, fuck knows where they are.
This gear is knock-off,
and the Serbs you nicked it from,
well, they'd kill you like you'd take a piss.
Gazza, the old bill are outside!
Gazza, no!
Go, go, go! Let's take the front!
Come on, let's have it!
Don't point that gun at me. Put it down!
We're goin' in! Goin' in!
Gazza, look at me. Look at me.
Put the gun down. You're gonna get us all shot.
Fuck it! Boat!
Go! Go! Go!
Stay there!
Fuck!
Come on! Come on! Go!
Gazza! Wait!
Fuckin' hurry up, then!
Get in.
Get the fuck in! Come on!
Take off!
Ugh!
Is this for me?
Yes.
Your cargo's gone, I'm afraid.
It was seized by--
I know already.
How do you know?
I watched.
I don't believe this!
Cox's gonna go fucking spare!
We are in shit! You lot have fucked up again!
Aw, fuckin' hell.
All right, leave it to me, lads.
I'll explain to Inspector Cox
that his suspect has scarpered because of your blunderin'.
Fuckin' knobheads. Helmets off.
Delta Uniform Kilo Echo.
Does this settle things, then?
Tango Foxtrot, over.
Delta Uniform...
How did that other little errand go?
Success...
far as I could make out.
Sierra Alpha, are you receiving this directive, over.
Where is my fucking prisoner?
You old ladies couldn't catch a cold if you tried!
Sir, I just wanna say-- Shut up, you soppy wanker!
Indigo...
Dingo Bongo.
So tell me, is this area now secure?
Yes, sir. Well, you can fuck off, then.
So where are the pills, genius?
I think this is them now.
What the fuck?
Couldn't leave this behind.
Greenies.
You are in the wrong game, mate.
You should work with us.
Are we square?
Yeah, we're sweet.
Seems so.
So your pills are in the back. Help yourself.
Hello.
Okay.
Yes, it will do.
Bye-bye.
You're off the hook, Morty.
Freddie Hurst is out of his coma.
Good news.
Eh? Yeah.
Good news, mate.
Listen, I've got one for you.
Irishman caught his son snorting charlie.
He said, "If I catch you doin' that again,
I'll rub your fuckin' nose in it."
Do you have the pills?
In the cars.
Boss wants to see you in his office.
Ah, come in.
Sit down.
Here you are.
Payment.
You look shocked, son.
You taking the fucking piss?
You and Jimmy...
have caused my little angel Charlotte...
considerable anxiety.
She's off to Arizona
for a course of intense treatment.
I'm keeping those pills for myself,
by way of compensation.
I think I'm entitled.
Simple. End of.
The amount of trouble you've caused the last few days.
Jimmy.
Poor little Jimmy.
I think it would be in your interest
if this thing finishes here, now, today. Understand?
Well, it doesn't matter what I do.
This lot are gonna come after you.
No, they're too long in the tooth to go
rampaging round the country,
looking for revenge.
Look at 'em.
Bunch of underendowed, aging
fuck pigs.
Are you enjoying this?
No. On the contrary. Take it as a compliment.
You're a bright young man.
This monkey business is in your blood, under your skin.
You're not gettin' out, you're just getting in.
You're only getting started.
I've every faith in you.
And one day in the future,
it'll be you sitting here in my place,
telling some Young Turk the facts of life.
And they are, Mr. Temple?
You're born, you take shit.
Get out in the world, you take more shit.
Climb a little higher...
take less shit.
Till one day, you're up in the rarefied atmosphere,
and you've forgotten what shit even looks like.
Welcome to the layer cake, son.
This thing ends here, tonight. You understand?
Drug money's easy money, not grief.
The odds, as you can see, are against you.
Good night.
If you're gonna hang around in this game,
that's where you've got to aim to be:
sitting in your bonded warehouse
with the ex-professional soldiers
doing the dirty work
while you deliver the highly suspect educational lecture
to baffle your opponents and cover your tracks.
The art of good business... is being a good middleman.
Putting people together.
I'll always thank Eddie for telling me that.
It's all about honor and respect.
This is the end, Mr. Duke, as I told you.
Pilule?
Polizia.
Hmm.
Ahh!
Do you know what?
I fuckin' enjoyed that, brother.
Just like the old days, Shanks.
Nice bit of armed robbery.
Hello.
Yeah, all right.
Where do you want the money sent, lah?
Soon as I do, Trev.
And again, look, I am sorry about Lucky.
Don't worry about it, kidder.
Man was a prick, anyway.
Later.
Ready?
Yeah. Let's go.
Did I really think
Eddie was gonna give me 3 million for those pills?
Did I, fuck.
But suddenly there was a void
where once there was Jimmy Price.
And after a couple of days of going around in my head,
Eddie's little "getting in and getting out" speech
started to make sense.
Angelo. Thank you. Thank you very much.
Can we get some privacy? Of course.
King is dead.
Long live the king.
Well, I'm honored.
But for me this is all over. I'm getting out.
What was true then is true now.
Have a plan. Stick to it.
So I'm sure you gentlemen must have lots to discuss,
but I have no business being here.
I've someone to meet.
Adios, amigos.
Paul the Boatman.
Kinky.
The Duke.
Slasher.
Kilburn Jerry.
Crazy Larry.
Mr. Lucky.
Troop.
Jimmy.
I don't want to add my name to that list.
My name?
If you knew that, you'd be as clever as me.
No!
I'm sorry.