Blitz (2011) Movie Script
When Dreams Come True
Hello, lads.
Fuck off, old man...
Yeah, you old git.
...or I'll smash your head in.
Yeah, give us
your fucking wallet, you cunt.
This lads...
is a hurley,
used in the Irish
game of hurling...
a cross between
hockey and murder.
You fuck--
Why don't l
carve my name
in your fucking face!
Hold on, hold on.
Fucking kill him!
Is that
a carpet knife?
Jesus wept. I've been looking
for one of these for weeks...
but this carpet
just keeps turning up.
A word of advice, girls.
If you're picking
the wrong fight...
at least pick
the right weapon.
Now, Sergeant, I'd like
you to tell me once again...
about your violent urges.
Uh, I must insist
that you extinguish that.
And you'll do what,
exactly, if I don't?
Arrest me?
I'm not sure you realize
the gravity of your situation.
Nice pen.
Sergeant?
Nice pen, I said.
Says a lot about you.
Oh, is that so?
Pray tell.
You like a solid phallic
symbol between your fingers.
Sergeant Brant,
in the last year...
you've been
charged with bugging
the Superintendent's office...
beating a felon unconscious
in a billiards hall...
and just last week
you assaulted three
innocent youths...
with a hockey stick.
Shall I go on?
My report will be a
major factor in whether
you remain in the force.
Ser-- Sergeant Brant,
sit down.
The thing is, Doc...
this is the only work l
can do, and if I get bounced...
I'm sure I'll do
something truly reckless.
Hi.
You got a
minute for me?
Yeah. What is it?
I don't know.
I thought two years
undercover on the Drug Squad
would help me out, but...
I don't know.
I thought maybe my past
went against me or...
I failed the
Sergeants exam.
Everyone fails
the first time.
Did you?
Now you've only
been out of rehab a few
months. Give it time.
Falls, go grab
some piss poor tea
in the canteen, okay?
You don't wanna
believe what you read
in the papers, sir.
It's not
what this station
needs right now.
You know we can't afford
any more bad publicity.
Imagine you walk
down the street...
and you bump into
three blokes carrying
carpeting knives.
Nah, they're not
carpet fitters.
They're after your wallet.
Maybe even that gold watch...
that you got for the highest
arrest rate in the Southeast.
One of the rats there even
very kindly offered to carve
their name in your face.
Now, would you be more
worried about whether
you're gonna have a fight...
than how it looks in the papers?
Well, just keep a
low profile until this
little shit storm blows over.
Business is brisk.
Have that, Daniel.
I don't think I can
go through with this.
You'll be okay.
It'll be over
in no time.
You think I should've
gone for a burial?
No.
You'll be glad.
We're ready for you,
Inspector Roberts.
Go on.
Who got
the flowers?
Owner of a stall
in Streatham owed
me a favor.
Does a clean line
in fruit and veg.
It's time.
Got some last words, Gov?
We'll miss you, love.
Coats and Hammond,
as quick as you can.
Let's get you legless.
Where's Fiona?
What?
The urn, Brant.
Where the fuck's the urn?
Someone must've
nicked that.
One of these guys.
Up, up and away.
We need a detective.
All right.
Fuck you, pig.
Brant, are you there?
Brant!
What?
We need you down at
Smithfield yesterday, Brant.
An officer is down.
All hands to the pump...
and don 't go talking
to any fucking journalists.
Sir?
I'm throwing you
a bone, Brant!
The officer
is Sandra Bates--
O h, no. It can't be.
The assailant
is armed and dangerous--
That is some dress.
Yeah, well you
look shitty.
I've been consoling the
Inspector. His wife passed.
Yeah. I heard.
I knew Sandra.
We were at Police
College together.
Brant.
Was there something?
Sir? There's a witness.
What? Why
wasn't I told?
I've been trying to tell you
for the past half an hour.
Take his statement.
The dead policewoman
has been identified as...
as 26-year-old
Sandra Bates of Camberwell.
Described as a credit
to her force...
she was shot
at point blank range...
and died instantly.
And now from our
Washington correspondent--
It's Tony, right?
Anthony.
You're Brant, right?
You know me?
Who doesnt? Last year
at Camberwell billiards...
when that nutter
come in with a crowbar,
attacked a couple of mates?
You rocked up,
beat matey to a pulp.
That makes me think
you're a legend.
I'm flattered.
They got names?
That's Posh.
That's Becks.
Posh and fucking Becks?
You're fucking right.
So run the description
by me again.
Ain't you gonna
take any notes?
Do I look
like I carry a pencil?
Morning. I'm
Porter Nash.
Superintendent Brown
said to talk to you
about getting a locker.
Due to the recent
death of his wife...
Chief Inspector Roberts
is on extended leave.
I'm therefore promoting
Sergeant Porter Nash...
to Acting Inspector...
and temporary head
of the inquiry.
Sir?
Yes?
Shouldn't we promote
one of our own?
Now, now gents.
I don 't need
to remind you...
that we're already
the focus of a media circus.
Sergeant Nash comes to us
from the prestigious
West London branch...
and it is my opinion that
he will instill a level
of professionalism...
hitherto lacking
in our primitive
Southeast Division.
I'm coming in.
You look like shit.
Take that hood
off your head.
I'm in trouble.
You got
any beers
or anything?
You know I haven't.
Sit down.
Talk.
Well, me, Macky and Bowes were
What? Looking for a madness?
I think we killed someone.
Some camel jockey.
Sorry, I mean
an Indian guy.
He weren't moving.
Okay.
Okay, I'll look into it.
Thank you--
Shut up.
I ain't finished yet.
If he's dead,
you're on your own.
Yeah? In fact, Ill
come round your yard
and nick you myself.
Now you go home
and you wait till
you hear from me.
It's choice time, John.
If he lives...
you either quit that gang
or you quit coming round
here, you understand?
Yeah.
Yeah, what?
Yes, ma'am.
Brant, can l
have a word?
I just need to
have a quick chat.
So what can l
do for you?
I need a favor.
A friend of mine is in trouble.
I need to get him off the hook.
Someone you're riding?
What?
No, nothing like that.
He's a kid.
There's a DI.
I used to know him
from way back.
We shared a snitch in Brixton.
He'll be able to help.
Name?
Stokes. Craig Stokes.
Thank you.
Now you owe me one.
Harold Dunlop.
I read your stuff
in the papers.
I've got some information
on the police killings.
All rig ht.
Hang on.
All right. Fire away.
Aw, have some
fucking manners.
I'm offering you information.
You don't even say hello.
It's a pleasure to make
your acquaintance.
Is that better?
I detest sarcasm.
Maybe I'll start
on journalists when
I've finished my cop quota.
Oh, uh, heh...
Listen fellow.
You and me got off to
the wrong start, didn't we?
So let's try again now.
What's your name?
Oh, Christ. I'm not sure
you're even up to the task.
What task?
Reporting from inside
the police killings?
Where are you on
the food chain?
You got any clout?
Well, I'm a staff writer
in the crime department, yeah.
I can make you famous.
Yo there, copper!
Remember me?
Do you want something?
Thing.
What?
It's 'something'
not somethink.'
You should at least
be able to speak properly.
Look, get lost mate, yeah?
I've got a question, yeah?
What would you do...
if I was
to call you a cunt?
Which do you prefer?
Seven or eight?
Eight.
Eight it is.
Hang on. What?
Eight what?
Eight more coppers
to kill. Bye.
What--
Cup of tea
and a biscuit.
Are you as black
as you're painted?
Are you as Nancy
as they say?
Thing is, Brant,
if there's a problem,
I'm gonna need to know about it.
There's a problem, all right.
Some sick fuck
is killing policemen...
and he's only just started.
I meant between us.
I know what you meant.
Problem?
Not unless you
follow me into public toilets.
So I don't get to be
head boy. Big fucking deal.
Less paperwork for me.
There's nothing, sir.
See if you
can get me a possible
match of the bullet.
Yes, sir.
Just keep it open
for me, for now.
Move your right and take your
fucking left hand up and over.
Aw, fuck me.
Not you again, mate.
I'll keep coming back
until you get me
a knife.
Keep your
right hand up.
I keep telling ya.
You're getting
caught with your
left up.
No, that's not him.
Yeah, please.
That's quite important.
Want me to widen
the area for questioning?
Great, yeah.
Great idea.
The gun was a
A SIG or a Glock?
I'll go on
to forensics now.
No?
I don't fucking know.
I don't know!
I wanna know
the name
of every punk
that you sold
a 9 mil semi-automatic
pistol to in the last
few months.
He's got his back
turned every time.
He knows where
the cameras are.
Don't make me
come back
and give me
the same
fucking silly
answers, all right?
I'll ring
you when I've
got something.
I want the name, address
and fucking postal code.
Sarge, come have
a look at this?
We've got no
footage of the killing
of the second officer.
There must be more.
Keep looking.
Sir.
You know what I want...
so spill.
Well, I need paying first.
What do you have in mind?
Serious.
Serious money.
Serious money?
Mmm-hmm.
What, like the time
of benefit?
Yeah.
Bony fucker, aren't ya?
You don't have the brains
of a chicken, do you?
I doubt you have any real
Irish blood in you, Radnor.
Me, I'm a wild streak
and a Celt.
Makes me unpredictable.
Them Irish. Did you know
they invented kneecap?
It's a nasty business.
They fix you up
as best they can...
but you'll
always have a limp.
How does that sound?
Radnor the gimp.
How does that go down
in your retirement package?
A brandy here, Paul.
And a large scotch.
Here's what we'll do.
We'll have a nice stiff drink.
Ought to fire us off.
Well, go on, Rad.
Pay the man.
Well, l-- I don't
drink brandy.
Yeah, keep
the change.
Okay, tell me.
There's this bloke
at the Peacock Gym.
He set fire
to a police dog.
YouTubed it.
Somebody asked him
why he did it. He said...
"Practice."
Well, that's it?
Seriously, he's a nutter.
Fuck, if we pulled in
every wanker who said that...
we'd be up to our
arse in suspects.
What's his name?
Well, I don't--
I don't-- I don't know.
But I'm meeting a guy
later who's gonna
get it for me.
Don't bother.
I'll go to the gym.
Ask the manager.
But you see, l--
Don't I get something?
I left you the rest of my
crisps, you greedy bugger.
What more do you want?
For fuck's sake.
Are you fucking me?
Can I have
my change back, please?
Fuck, I can't walk.
Are you as black
as you're painted?
Disturbing you,
am l?
No, I was just
in the middle
of eating.
Go ahead.
That's your Tex Mex, isn't it?
Christ, what is that?
Hare Krishna food?
Better put some
meat in you, boy.
A big juicy steak.
Get the blood flowing.
You know,
the chaps had a word...
for this type of
bare look, didn't they?
Minimalist.
Shy is the word
I had in mind.
Can I get a drink, then?
Over there.
Help yourself.
Jesus, no wonder you
stay at home.
So what are you having?
I've got some
water, thanks.
Can I ask you
why you're here?
I need your advice.
Look, I don't give
a fuck about you
being a pillow biter.
I don't give a fuck
what people do...
as long as they
keep it to themselves.
I respect you
and there's not many I do.
What's the problem?
I'm losing it.
In what way?
I'm blacking out.
Not often, but enough
to be worried.
Don't wanna talk, eat.
It's actually a huge effort
to drag myself outta bed.
I just stare at the wall.
Just do nothing, you know?
Absolutely nothing.
It's burnout.
What?
Your brain's on meltdown.
A couple of days
doing nothing...
and youll
start to come back.
You sound pretty sure.
Yeah, I am sure.
I've been there myself.
You?
Yeah. I could barely
work the microwave.
I was fucked.
We got this pedophile
on the loose in Holland Park.
He was luring
children into his car.
We knew who he was
but we just couldn't
catch him in the act.
These kids were too
traumatized to identify him.
He was this big
showbiz agent, you know.
Major connections.
The guys back
at the nick...
they just about put me
on a par with him...
because I was
a queer, yeah?
Wanked off into condoms
and leave them
in my locker...
scratched the car,
sugar in the petrol tank.
All the usual shit.
It put me
under tremendous pressure.
I was knocking back
Valium, shots at breakfast...
two packs a day.
So I thought, fuck it.
I thought I'd take matters
into my own hands.
And I broke
into the pedophile's
house at 4:00 in the morning...
and I smashed his bollocks
in with a baseball bat...
until they fucking popped.
I took a leave
of absence after that.
I was burnt out.
Came back here,
I shut the curtains.
Pulled the phone out.
Just hid away.
I went back to work
expecting the axe...
but they ended up
transferring me.
Wanker.
Morning.
Want some breakfast?
A coffee,
two sugars.
You had an affair
with me?
I held back.
So any idea who
we're looking for?
A psycho.
Whistles while he works.
Showed up
at Peacock Gym yesterday.
I got the name
of a bloke in Nunhead.
Worth a visit?
You want me along?
Sure. See you there
in half an hour.
Oh, yeah. The other thing,
about you being a good cop.
I meant that.
Thank you.
For a poofter.
You replaced me.
You're on compassionate leave.
I 'm back.
Inspector Roberts,
losing a wife
is not easy.
You lost your wife?
Well, no--
How would you feel
about early retirement?
We'd miss you, sir.
You know who
else would miss you?
Olga, the 250-pound
call girl you see
every Wednesday.
Your wife thinks
you're playing squash.
Well, you are, in a way.
I don't need a fanfare.
I don't need an office.
I just wanna work.
Well, what are
you waiting for?
Fuck off, Roberts.
Go solve some crimes.
Fuck.
Police! Open up!
Uh.
Oh!
Barry Weiss?
That is me.
Can we come in?
Got a warrant?
It's in the post.
Can I get you anything?
How about a cuppa, coppers?
I know you.
If we'd met,
I'm sure I'd remember.
You know what that is?
Michael Jackson's shit.
It's priceless.
I got it off eBay.
So what was it you
were looking for?
Maybe I could help you.
What do you do, Mr. Weiss?
I'm between jobs.
You like torching
dogs, do ya?
I saw your
home movie.
On YouTube, right?
It got over 9,000
hits before they
took it down.
I post--
I posted it, yeah,
but I wasn't involved.
Nah, I'm joking.
I love animals, me.
What about police, Barry?
You like them?
"Thank God," I say.
I say "Thank God
for the men in blue."
I remember you now, Barry.
Yeah, you're
the piece of shit
from the billiards hall.
Back on your feet,
I see.
Come on, Nash.
Let's get out of here.
What was
all that about?
I had a run in with
him about a year ago.
I might have put
him in the hospital.
Welcome to the liberal
Southeast.
It gets results.
Let's just keep
an eye on him.
You just wait and see.
Yeah?
You wait and see.
What are you
fucking looking at,
you fucking perv?
Fuck. Ow!
Weiss. Nice.
B. Weiss, P-23...
Weymouth Parking.
You little bastard.
Who is it?
Satellite TV.
I've come for your box.
What's the problem?
I just paid the bill.
That's funny...
because you
are the bill.
You're not
the usual bloke--
Ugh.
Ah!
Ah!
Question two. Which Scottish
music hall comedian--
B! B! B.
A. Jack Milroy
B. Andy Stewart
or C. Sir Harry Lauder?
B.
Come on, you fucking idiot, B.
Yes.
Sweet.
There 's a fire
at Cerinem Point.
In a flat on the 1 6th
floor, you'll find
cop number three.
Oh, I used a new system.
A new system?
Can you be
a bit clearer?
I pulverized
the fucker with a hammer.
Is that clear
enough for you?
I pulverized
the fucker with a hammer.
Oh, yeah.
Oh, shit.
Yeah, I forgot.
I got a name.
A name?
Is there an echo?
Stop repeating
everything I say.
It's getting
on my fucking tits.
I'm sorry.
It's "Blitz"
as in "Blitzkrieg."
You got that?
Yeah. That's good. Yeah.
Oh, fuck.
Sarge, you need
to see this.
It's the evening edition.
Bastards!
Where the hell
have you been?
Can't say.
What do you mean
you can't say?
Can't account
for my movements?
Is that
the correct lingo?
You do know another
policemans been killed?
Chief Inspector Roberts.
What?
The killer's targets
are in this station.
He used a hammer
to kill Roberts
and he torched his flat.
He contacted some hack
journalist at The Post...
called Dunlop.
Gave him all
the details.
Dunlop you say?
Yeah. Harold Dunlop.
I sent a team over there...
to tap his phone and make
sure his calls are traced.
Do you know him?
I do.
I'm Harold Dunlop
from The Post.
Hey! Get off!
All right! All right!
Bloody hell!
What was
all that about?
I told you,
I know him.
Bastard put my
picture in the paper.
Click.
Hello. Hello. Hello.
Bang. Bang.
Yippity-doo-dah-day.
Hello? Dunlop.
Is this Harold Dunlop?
Yeah. Yeah.
The Harold Dunlop?
The crime reporter?
Can you get me a latt?
Yeah. Who's this?
Mr. Dunlop, how would
you like to nail The Blitz?
Yeah, I 'd like
that very much.
Oh-ho! Is that it?
Perhaps I didn't make
myself clear, Mr. Dunlop.
I know the name
of the cop killer.
I think you're gonna
have to work a little bit
harder than that.
It'll be an honor to bring
that maniac to justice.
Yeah. Yeah.
Well, you'll have
a little think...
about how much
you'd be willing to pay.
Come now, Mr. Dunlop.
You didn't think this was
a citizen doing his bit
now, did you?
How much do you want?
For that, you get
the name of The Blitz...
plus extras.
Extras?
What do you mean extras?
Various assorted
items, Mr. Dunlop.
You'll find out
when I get my 50k.
I'm the master
of the fucking universe.
Hello.
Hey.
The fire pretty much
destroyed anything
around the body.
We found that in the bathroom.
The fire wasn't
so bad in there.
But did the heat or water
damage any DNA
or fingerprints?
I'm afraid so.
Peacock Gym.
Yeah, looks like it.
It's B rant.
Check if DI Roberts
was ever a member
of the Peacock Gym.
What are you doing?
I told you to wait
until you heard
from me.
Yeah, well,
I didn't hear from you.
Yeah.
Well, I'm sorting it.
Yeah? I'm trying to.
Look, just go home.
DI Stokes?
You must be Falls.
Yeah. Yeah.
What'll you have?
Tea, please, sir.
Just tea.
Forget the "sir" stuff.
Craig'll do.
Tea and toast
for two!
Coming up, love!
Okay. Well, we've got
two of the kids...
involved in the assault
of Mr. Azziz.
I thought-- He's not--?
Dead? Incredibly, no.
Let me see.
John Wells,
known as Metal.
This the one
you wanted to discuss?
Yes.
What is he? A snitch?
Yeah, well, you know...
and I try to look out
for him.
Thank you.
He's a piece of shit.
A thug.
Oh, he's a boy.
Underneath all that,
he's just a scared boy.
So is there
anything you can do?
Anything can be buried.
Will you?
Meet me for a drink tonight.
That's all?
Hey, Roberts and
the Peacock Gym.
Never a member.
No, of course not.
Have you got a minute?
Yeah.
Can you work that thing?
Brant, you're
such a dinosaur.
I'm surprised you can even
work your own microwave.
This is
women's work.
Just like typing.
Right.
So what are
you looking for?
Barry Weiss.
It's the Belfront Towers.
Kicked out of Peacock Gym.
Oh, wow. This guy's
always in trouble.
He's been arrested more times
than you've had WPC's.
You know I'm
not like that.
Right.
It's petty stuff, though.
What do you think?
No, nothing major.
None of that yet.
Have you got my money?
Yeah. I just had to
pull a few strings.
Pick me up outside
Weymouth Street car park.
Stand there.
All right.
There. Steady. There.
Oh, Jesus.
Click.
These are the extras
I was talking about.
Trophies, I believe
is the correct term.
And you know
who these belong to, eh?
Correct.
Right, I showed
you mine.
Perhaps we could
have a little look
at yours now.
All right.
Aw.
What?
That's not
fifty grand.
Of course
it's fifty grand.
There's no way
that's fifty grand.
When did you
last see fifty grand?
Don't you trust me?
Go and count it.
It's about
Oh. Go on, then.
I'm gonna count
every bit of it.
Good. Buy yourself
a new suit.
Fifty, fifty,
fifty, fifty, fifty.
You are a fucking genius.
I haven't told him
your name yet.
Relax. I'm not
gonna hurt you.
I only do police. Remember?
How'd you get on to me?
I got your address
from the Peacock Gym...
and I went
through your rubbish.
I found the receipt
for the parking garage.
That's very impressive.
I haven't told him
your name yet.
I haven't
told him your name.
But you're gonna
have to help me
out, see?
Ah.
I haven't told him
your name yet.
This is a bit
of a tight squeeze.
I haven't told him
your name yet.
No, no, no.
A double Irish.
Can't do, buddy.
I'm closed.
Listen up. I'm only
gonna say this once.
I ain't your 'buddy.'
When I ask
for a drink, you say,
"Ice with that, sir?"
Now let's begin again.
A double Irish.
You want ice
with that, sir?
Don't be ridiculous.
Who needs ice?
Thatll be five quid, sir.
Like you said...
you're closed.
He went to the toilet.
When he hadn't come back...
I got concerned.
I thought he fell in.
He did.
Then what happened?
Well, I went in there,
didn't l? I found him.
Well, you didn't
exactly come rushing out
though, did you, Mr. Dunlop?
The man at the bar says
you was with him
for ten minutes.
Had you down as a couple
of George Michael fans.
Hey, I was looking
for the money.
Money?
The paper's money.
We were paying him
for an exclusive.
Oh, for fuck's sake.
Can I remind you
that people...
are being killed
here, Mr. Dunlop?
Ah, yeah?
Yeah. Human beings,
with families and children.
There's a car. Yeah.
Oh, God, I forgot.
Yeah. A car.
You're not gonna
believe what's inside.
Where is this car?
Weymouth Street car park.
It's a black Jaguar.
Bay 23!
Oy! Am I gonna get
police protection?
Oh, yeah.
We'll be all over you.
Should've been
the other guy
had him killed.
What now?
Murder inquiry.
I want the disc
for the last month.
Discs are full.
What do you mean
theyre full?
They haven't recorded
anything for six weeks.
It ran out of memory.
They'll fix it Monday.
I don't believe this.
The cameras are
really turned on.
It's psychological.
You don't give
a shit, do ya?
It's disgraceful.
So is you eating it.
Hey.
You look nice.
Thanks.
Can I take
your coat?
Yeah.
Thank you.
Have a seat.
You've gone quiet.
I like
listening to you.
Everything all right?
There's got to be
an easier way to do this.
Fuck, Brant.
So how does it feel
to actually need
us girls...
for more
than just cooking
and cleaning and shagging?
I was sorting a way
of listing all Weiss'
arresting officers.
I've seemed to pull up
the first one. It's
WPC Sandra Bates.
You're kidding.
I've had
a really nice time.
Yeah.
I'll call you.
When?
When are you
gonna call me?
Tomorrow.
I'll tell you what.
How about this summer...
we'll do a picnic?
Don't you think
I know how this goes?
Man says,
"I'll call you"...
and a woman's waiting
and hoping.
She's a slave
to her mobile...
while he's thinking,
"Well, I'll call her...
tomorrow, some day,
Monday. Doesn't matter.
Well, here's a hint, yeah?
It matters.
It matters a lot.
Tomorrow. I'll
call you tomorrow.
No, fuck off.
Hey!
Jesus. Look who else.
Fuck. That's Roberts.
And Falls.
Shit. How could l
be that stupid?
Send an armed response
unit round to her flat
straight away.
It's a 19.
Come on, Falls.
We're coming.
Oh.
Oh, shit.
I'm stupid.
I'm stupid.
What the fuck?
What the fuck?
Ugh!
Not--
Doctors have given her
a sedative. She should
be out for a while.
Did she get a look
at the attacker?
All she could say for sure
is that he's big and white.
Big and white.
So it's not
the black kid
from Different Strokes.
It's Barry Weiss.
I know him.
Should you be
taking her booze?
Well, she
won't notice.
Want one?
Yeah.
Is she all right?
Who are you?
DI Craig Stokes.
I heard someone
got killed.
It's not Falls.
Cop killer
took a run at her.
Some kid jumped in,
a hoodie.
He got his ticket punched.
Were you
with Falls this evening?
Yes. We went
for a drink and
I dropped her off.
You dropped her
in it, you mean.
Did it not occur
to you to walk her
to the door?
What agent.
Taxi!
Can you take me
to Bayswater?
It's gonna
cost you, mate.
Hey, Bronski Beat.
Do I look like
the kind of cunt...
who thinks
Bayswater is just
around the corner?
Hey, stop here.
Stop here, mate.
There. Dean Court.
All right.
Yeah, all right.
There you go.
Keep it.
And question two.
We wanted to know the
post code for BIair Castle.
Don't know how many
of you ever visited
Blair Castle.
Is he dead?
What, the little skinhead?
It was a doornail.
What's the story
with you and him?
Him risking
his life for ya.
Oh, I've known him
since he was twelve.
He used to live
next door.
When I came out of rehab,
he was the only one around
here I wanted to know.
He made me tea.
I don't know.
I thought...
I could help him.
Oh, my God.
Brant.
He definitely
did a bunk.
Find anything?
Nothing incriminating, no.
Used to be
a good looking boy.
He let himself go a bit.
Let's go public
with Weiss.
Your call.
At least we'll flush
the fucker out.
Police today released
a picture of the suspect...
they would like to question
regarding The Blitz.
Yeah! I know him!
I dropped the guy off.
He was fucking psycho.
Long time, no see.
Hey.
Jack, this is
Detective Brant.
Hello, mate.
Where's our boy?
Room 7.
Go, go, go.
Fuck!
He's on the move.
Let's go.
Ugh.
We have him on the Great
Western Road.
Head down to Harrow Road.
We 'Il put him off
at the underpass.
Now running west
on the Westway.
Heading towards Paddington.
Suspect entering
train depot...
north of Paddington.
Brant still in pursuit.
All units
head for train depot...
north of Paddington.
Do not let B rant engage.
Repeat. Do not let
Brant engage.
What the fuck--
Leave it, Brant.
Brant, calm down.
We've got him.
Get the fuck--
Fuck!
Get this piece
of shit out of here.
Just calm down.
Calm down.
Move! Now!
We've got him.
We've got
him, okay?
We've got him.
The Metropolitan Police
have just confirmed...
the arrest of Barry
Weiss, the prime suspect
in The Blitz killings...
in which three London Police
officers were murdered
in cold blood...
after a dramatic chase
through West London--
A t the Paddington
train depot.
Police are refusing
to comment any further--
Just selling
records, yeah?
We're going
to record this.
Okay, Barry?
I want a lawyer
and a sandwich.
Oh, and I want to update
my Facebook status.
You have exactly
forty-eight hours.
In that time,
you either charge
my client or release him.
And he'd like
a different sandwich.
He says the bread is stale.
Weiss might be crazy
but he's not stupid.
He's covered
his tracks.
The fire at Roberts'
flat destroyed any
forensic evidence...
we might have had.
Even the Peacock
Gym link is tenuous.
Well, he's admitted
the Jag belongs to him.
It's been
sitting in a car park
for at least six months.
Anyone could've
had access to it.
There's no CCTT.
I got ahold of the guy
with the dogs, the one that
saw the first murder.
Now he's saying he can't
make a positive I D.
All right, de 's too scared.
Same goes for the barman
at the Wellesley.
You didn't find
anything at the hotel?
Nothing.
What about Forensics?
Team stripped
it down, but no.
With what we've got,
he'll be out tomorrow
laughing his head off.
We need something solid.
We'd better come up
with something quick.
Otherwise, the killer
is gonna hop, skip
and jump out of here.
The only thing he's getting
so far is a caution.
All right, Babe?
Yeah. Yeah, no. I've been
away, but...
I'm back now.
Do you want to come
to my party?
Yeah, like old times.
Can you take care
of me?
Sweet.
What's this?
Moonshine.
Irish moonshine.
Isn't this
stuff illegal?
I fucking hope so.
You drink this poison
and then you wonder
why you get blackouts.
I drink this poison
because I get blackouts.
Slinte.
Cheers.
Say we
can't prove anything.
Say Barry Weiss walks.
Where are you
going with this?
Well, you told
me once before
about some pedophile.
You couldn't
get the bastard through
the regular channels, so...
you took him out yourself.
I thought you were asleep
when I told you that.
I'm not gonna continue
this line of talk.
I don't like
where it's going.
Been a busy couple
of days for you, Barry.
Took a ride in a police car.
Got your picture in the paper.
Highlight of your career.
You know, Barry,
if you were smart...
which I know you're not...
you'd admit to what you did...
because I'm gonna tell
you now, you'll be a lot
safer in here than out there.
Were they
friends of yours...
those cops
that got killed?
You see...
I know what this
is about, Barry.
What did those lads
ever do to you, Barry?
Of course, you knew.
How did you react?
Fuck you, pig.
They call that
resisting arrest.
I call it stupid.
I know I embarrassed you.
Since then you've stewed...
and cooked
and simmered over it.
You should've just let it go.
Personally...
I didn't remember until
I saw you. Didn't give it
a second thought.
It was so insignificant,
I forgot all about it.
We sure all laughed when
I played the surveillance
tapes at the station.
We all did.
But that stuff's silly.
Sergeant Brant
to you.
The point is, Barry...
you're nothing.
No one cares.
No one gives a fuck.
Oh, and another thing.
You, The Blitz.
What the fuck is that?
Don't mean to bomb
you out, bro...
but there's some major
shit going down.
I'm listening.
A cop's ripped off
a dealer.
What?
They're getting
into the products, man.
This dealer is like
serious folks.
You fuck with him
and he gets difficult,
even with a woman.
Whoa. Whoa.
Back up a second.
A female cop
is ripping off
drug dealers?
She a sister, too.
This cop
have a name?
Yeah. Falls.
Brant. It's Stokes.
Listen, I need your help.
I think she's inside.
You crashed
a party, man.
"You crashed
a party?" You
fucking-- Get him out!
Come here.
Do you like me?
If you like me--
Look at this shit.
If you like me,
you can throw me a party.
What are you doing?
I don't wanna go!
Go back.
He's gonna kill me!
He's gonna kill me!
No! He's gonna kill me!
No!
He's gonna kill me!
What are these?
Thanks. Theyll
bring you down.
The shower did that.
Just take 'em, Falls.
I'm messed up,
aren't l?
Even when I was
working undercover...
I was a cop
pretending to be a junkie.
But really, I'm just a junkie
playing at being a cop.
He's gonna get away
with it, isn't he?
If we can't protect our own,
what good are we, Brant?
What good are we?
A lot
of press waiting?
Yes, I'm afraid so.
There's quiet a crowd
gathered outside the front.
But we can leave
through a different
exit, if you prefer.
Fuck no!
I hope it's all there.
Is something
on your mind, Barry?
Well, I guess I'll
see you another day.
I can't wait.
Don't worry. We're
having him tailed
around the clock.
Keep him
out of trouble.
We're in position now.
He's going into his flat.
Is Brant still here?
No. No, he left.
It's Roberts' funeral
this afternoon.
Every cop in the Southeast
is gonna be there.
Except you.
In company with Christ
who died and now lives...
may the rejoicing
in Your Kingdom...
where all our tears
are wiped away...
unite us together again
in one family...
to sing Your praise
forever and ever.
Amen.
Eternal rest grant
unto him, Oh, Lord...
and let perpetual light
shine upon him.
Into Your hand,
Father of Mercy...
we commend our brother
in sure and certain hope...
that together, all who
have died in Christ...
will live with Him one day.
In nomine Patris,
Filii et Spiritu
Sancti. Amen.
Beloved Bruce Roberts,
we give your body
to the earth.
Earth Mother,
Root Mother...
Father of soil.
We give You this body
of our beloved Bruce Roberts.
His eyes will never
greet us again.
Return to earth.
We will not kiss these lops.
Return to earth.
What he has been is gone.
What he is now
has passed the gate...
leaving his body
to become soil.
This flesh
to nurture flowers...
these bones
to be roots of trees.
Come on.
Yeah, what's the latest?
Weiss hasn't left
his flat all day.
Fuck.
Brant! Turn around,
you fucker!
I wanna see your face
as your head explodes.
Ugh. Agh.
What? You think
you fooled me?
No chance. I was
just playing along.
Ugh!
Ugh!
Come on, Barry.
What are you
gonna do?
Huh? Call
the cops?
You stupid fucking pig.
Wait till the papers
get a load of this, hey.
I'm gonna sue you.
And you.
And all of you
fucking pig cunts.
I'm gonna make
fucking millions.
You fucking--
Brant?
You fuck.
You can't kill me.
I'm The Blitz.
Are you talking
about that cop killer?
That can't be you, Barry.
We tried to convict you
but you were innocent.
The only thing we do know
is he was partial to
people in uniform...
just like the one
you're wearing.
And he used a weapon
just like this one.
Fucking lucky
he didn't shoot
me in the head.
Something tells me
this one's gonna
remain unsolved.
You're not supposed
to smoke in here.
What you gonna do?
Shoot me?
I'm just leaving
the office now, darling.
Yeah, I'll be back at 7:00.
I love you too, Amanda. Yeah.
There he is.
There's Brecky.
Fuck.
Bon apptit.
Get out! Get away!
When Dreams Come True
Hello, lads.
Fuck off, old man...
Yeah, you old git.
...or I'll smash your head in.
Yeah, give us
your fucking wallet, you cunt.
This lads...
is a hurley,
used in the Irish
game of hurling...
a cross between
hockey and murder.
You fuck--
Why don't l
carve my name
in your fucking face!
Hold on, hold on.
Fucking kill him!
Is that
a carpet knife?
Jesus wept. I've been looking
for one of these for weeks...
but this carpet
just keeps turning up.
A word of advice, girls.
If you're picking
the wrong fight...
at least pick
the right weapon.
Now, Sergeant, I'd like
you to tell me once again...
about your violent urges.
Uh, I must insist
that you extinguish that.
And you'll do what,
exactly, if I don't?
Arrest me?
I'm not sure you realize
the gravity of your situation.
Nice pen.
Sergeant?
Nice pen, I said.
Says a lot about you.
Oh, is that so?
Pray tell.
You like a solid phallic
symbol between your fingers.
Sergeant Brant,
in the last year...
you've been
charged with bugging
the Superintendent's office...
beating a felon unconscious
in a billiards hall...
and just last week
you assaulted three
innocent youths...
with a hockey stick.
Shall I go on?
My report will be a
major factor in whether
you remain in the force.
Ser-- Sergeant Brant,
sit down.
The thing is, Doc...
this is the only work l
can do, and if I get bounced...
I'm sure I'll do
something truly reckless.
Hi.
You got a
minute for me?
Yeah. What is it?
I don't know.
I thought two years
undercover on the Drug Squad
would help me out, but...
I don't know.
I thought maybe my past
went against me or...
I failed the
Sergeants exam.
Everyone fails
the first time.
Did you?
Now you've only
been out of rehab a few
months. Give it time.
Falls, go grab
some piss poor tea
in the canteen, okay?
You don't wanna
believe what you read
in the papers, sir.
It's not
what this station
needs right now.
You know we can't afford
any more bad publicity.
Imagine you walk
down the street...
and you bump into
three blokes carrying
carpeting knives.
Nah, they're not
carpet fitters.
They're after your wallet.
Maybe even that gold watch...
that you got for the highest
arrest rate in the Southeast.
One of the rats there even
very kindly offered to carve
their name in your face.
Now, would you be more
worried about whether
you're gonna have a fight...
than how it looks in the papers?
Well, just keep a
low profile until this
little shit storm blows over.
Business is brisk.
Have that, Daniel.
I don't think I can
go through with this.
You'll be okay.
It'll be over
in no time.
You think I should've
gone for a burial?
No.
You'll be glad.
We're ready for you,
Inspector Roberts.
Go on.
Who got
the flowers?
Owner of a stall
in Streatham owed
me a favor.
Does a clean line
in fruit and veg.
It's time.
Got some last words, Gov?
We'll miss you, love.
Coats and Hammond,
as quick as you can.
Let's get you legless.
Where's Fiona?
What?
The urn, Brant.
Where the fuck's the urn?
Someone must've
nicked that.
One of these guys.
Up, up and away.
We need a detective.
All right.
Fuck you, pig.
Brant, are you there?
Brant!
What?
We need you down at
Smithfield yesterday, Brant.
An officer is down.
All hands to the pump...
and don 't go talking
to any fucking journalists.
Sir?
I'm throwing you
a bone, Brant!
The officer
is Sandra Bates--
O h, no. It can't be.
The assailant
is armed and dangerous--
That is some dress.
Yeah, well you
look shitty.
I've been consoling the
Inspector. His wife passed.
Yeah. I heard.
I knew Sandra.
We were at Police
College together.
Brant.
Was there something?
Sir? There's a witness.
What? Why
wasn't I told?
I've been trying to tell you
for the past half an hour.
Take his statement.
The dead policewoman
has been identified as...
as 26-year-old
Sandra Bates of Camberwell.
Described as a credit
to her force...
she was shot
at point blank range...
and died instantly.
And now from our
Washington correspondent--
It's Tony, right?
Anthony.
You're Brant, right?
You know me?
Who doesnt? Last year
at Camberwell billiards...
when that nutter
come in with a crowbar,
attacked a couple of mates?
You rocked up,
beat matey to a pulp.
That makes me think
you're a legend.
I'm flattered.
They got names?
That's Posh.
That's Becks.
Posh and fucking Becks?
You're fucking right.
So run the description
by me again.
Ain't you gonna
take any notes?
Do I look
like I carry a pencil?
Morning. I'm
Porter Nash.
Superintendent Brown
said to talk to you
about getting a locker.
Due to the recent
death of his wife...
Chief Inspector Roberts
is on extended leave.
I'm therefore promoting
Sergeant Porter Nash...
to Acting Inspector...
and temporary head
of the inquiry.
Sir?
Yes?
Shouldn't we promote
one of our own?
Now, now gents.
I don 't need
to remind you...
that we're already
the focus of a media circus.
Sergeant Nash comes to us
from the prestigious
West London branch...
and it is my opinion that
he will instill a level
of professionalism...
hitherto lacking
in our primitive
Southeast Division.
I'm coming in.
You look like shit.
Take that hood
off your head.
I'm in trouble.
You got
any beers
or anything?
You know I haven't.
Sit down.
Talk.
Well, me, Macky and Bowes were
What? Looking for a madness?
I think we killed someone.
Some camel jockey.
Sorry, I mean
an Indian guy.
He weren't moving.
Okay.
Okay, I'll look into it.
Thank you--
Shut up.
I ain't finished yet.
If he's dead,
you're on your own.
Yeah? In fact, Ill
come round your yard
and nick you myself.
Now you go home
and you wait till
you hear from me.
It's choice time, John.
If he lives...
you either quit that gang
or you quit coming round
here, you understand?
Yeah.
Yeah, what?
Yes, ma'am.
Brant, can l
have a word?
I just need to
have a quick chat.
So what can l
do for you?
I need a favor.
A friend of mine is in trouble.
I need to get him off the hook.
Someone you're riding?
What?
No, nothing like that.
He's a kid.
There's a DI.
I used to know him
from way back.
We shared a snitch in Brixton.
He'll be able to help.
Name?
Stokes. Craig Stokes.
Thank you.
Now you owe me one.
Harold Dunlop.
I read your stuff
in the papers.
I've got some information
on the police killings.
All rig ht.
Hang on.
All right. Fire away.
Aw, have some
fucking manners.
I'm offering you information.
You don't even say hello.
It's a pleasure to make
your acquaintance.
Is that better?
I detest sarcasm.
Maybe I'll start
on journalists when
I've finished my cop quota.
Oh, uh, heh...
Listen fellow.
You and me got off to
the wrong start, didn't we?
So let's try again now.
What's your name?
Oh, Christ. I'm not sure
you're even up to the task.
What task?
Reporting from inside
the police killings?
Where are you on
the food chain?
You got any clout?
Well, I'm a staff writer
in the crime department, yeah.
I can make you famous.
Yo there, copper!
Remember me?
Do you want something?
Thing.
What?
It's 'something'
not somethink.'
You should at least
be able to speak properly.
Look, get lost mate, yeah?
I've got a question, yeah?
What would you do...
if I was
to call you a cunt?
Which do you prefer?
Seven or eight?
Eight.
Eight it is.
Hang on. What?
Eight what?
Eight more coppers
to kill. Bye.
What--
Cup of tea
and a biscuit.
Are you as black
as you're painted?
Are you as Nancy
as they say?
Thing is, Brant,
if there's a problem,
I'm gonna need to know about it.
There's a problem, all right.
Some sick fuck
is killing policemen...
and he's only just started.
I meant between us.
I know what you meant.
Problem?
Not unless you
follow me into public toilets.
So I don't get to be
head boy. Big fucking deal.
Less paperwork for me.
There's nothing, sir.
See if you
can get me a possible
match of the bullet.
Yes, sir.
Just keep it open
for me, for now.
Move your right and take your
fucking left hand up and over.
Aw, fuck me.
Not you again, mate.
I'll keep coming back
until you get me
a knife.
Keep your
right hand up.
I keep telling ya.
You're getting
caught with your
left up.
No, that's not him.
Yeah, please.
That's quite important.
Want me to widen
the area for questioning?
Great, yeah.
Great idea.
The gun was a
A SIG or a Glock?
I'll go on
to forensics now.
No?
I don't fucking know.
I don't know!
I wanna know
the name
of every punk
that you sold
a 9 mil semi-automatic
pistol to in the last
few months.
He's got his back
turned every time.
He knows where
the cameras are.
Don't make me
come back
and give me
the same
fucking silly
answers, all right?
I'll ring
you when I've
got something.
I want the name, address
and fucking postal code.
Sarge, come have
a look at this?
We've got no
footage of the killing
of the second officer.
There must be more.
Keep looking.
Sir.
You know what I want...
so spill.
Well, I need paying first.
What do you have in mind?
Serious.
Serious money.
Serious money?
Mmm-hmm.
What, like the time
of benefit?
Yeah.
Bony fucker, aren't ya?
You don't have the brains
of a chicken, do you?
I doubt you have any real
Irish blood in you, Radnor.
Me, I'm a wild streak
and a Celt.
Makes me unpredictable.
Them Irish. Did you know
they invented kneecap?
It's a nasty business.
They fix you up
as best they can...
but you'll
always have a limp.
How does that sound?
Radnor the gimp.
How does that go down
in your retirement package?
A brandy here, Paul.
And a large scotch.
Here's what we'll do.
We'll have a nice stiff drink.
Ought to fire us off.
Well, go on, Rad.
Pay the man.
Well, l-- I don't
drink brandy.
Yeah, keep
the change.
Okay, tell me.
There's this bloke
at the Peacock Gym.
He set fire
to a police dog.
YouTubed it.
Somebody asked him
why he did it. He said...
"Practice."
Well, that's it?
Seriously, he's a nutter.
Fuck, if we pulled in
every wanker who said that...
we'd be up to our
arse in suspects.
What's his name?
Well, I don't--
I don't-- I don't know.
But I'm meeting a guy
later who's gonna
get it for me.
Don't bother.
I'll go to the gym.
Ask the manager.
But you see, l--
Don't I get something?
I left you the rest of my
crisps, you greedy bugger.
What more do you want?
For fuck's sake.
Are you fucking me?
Can I have
my change back, please?
Fuck, I can't walk.
Are you as black
as you're painted?
Disturbing you,
am l?
No, I was just
in the middle
of eating.
Go ahead.
That's your Tex Mex, isn't it?
Christ, what is that?
Hare Krishna food?
Better put some
meat in you, boy.
A big juicy steak.
Get the blood flowing.
You know,
the chaps had a word...
for this type of
bare look, didn't they?
Minimalist.
Shy is the word
I had in mind.
Can I get a drink, then?
Over there.
Help yourself.
Jesus, no wonder you
stay at home.
So what are you having?
I've got some
water, thanks.
Can I ask you
why you're here?
I need your advice.
Look, I don't give
a fuck about you
being a pillow biter.
I don't give a fuck
what people do...
as long as they
keep it to themselves.
I respect you
and there's not many I do.
What's the problem?
I'm losing it.
In what way?
I'm blacking out.
Not often, but enough
to be worried.
Don't wanna talk, eat.
It's actually a huge effort
to drag myself outta bed.
I just stare at the wall.
Just do nothing, you know?
Absolutely nothing.
It's burnout.
What?
Your brain's on meltdown.
A couple of days
doing nothing...
and youll
start to come back.
You sound pretty sure.
Yeah, I am sure.
I've been there myself.
You?
Yeah. I could barely
work the microwave.
I was fucked.
We got this pedophile
on the loose in Holland Park.
He was luring
children into his car.
We knew who he was
but we just couldn't
catch him in the act.
These kids were too
traumatized to identify him.
He was this big
showbiz agent, you know.
Major connections.
The guys back
at the nick...
they just about put me
on a par with him...
because I was
a queer, yeah?
Wanked off into condoms
and leave them
in my locker...
scratched the car,
sugar in the petrol tank.
All the usual shit.
It put me
under tremendous pressure.
I was knocking back
Valium, shots at breakfast...
two packs a day.
So I thought, fuck it.
I thought I'd take matters
into my own hands.
And I broke
into the pedophile's
house at 4:00 in the morning...
and I smashed his bollocks
in with a baseball bat...
until they fucking popped.
I took a leave
of absence after that.
I was burnt out.
Came back here,
I shut the curtains.
Pulled the phone out.
Just hid away.
I went back to work
expecting the axe...
but they ended up
transferring me.
Wanker.
Morning.
Want some breakfast?
A coffee,
two sugars.
You had an affair
with me?
I held back.
So any idea who
we're looking for?
A psycho.
Whistles while he works.
Showed up
at Peacock Gym yesterday.
I got the name
of a bloke in Nunhead.
Worth a visit?
You want me along?
Sure. See you there
in half an hour.
Oh, yeah. The other thing,
about you being a good cop.
I meant that.
Thank you.
For a poofter.
You replaced me.
You're on compassionate leave.
I 'm back.
Inspector Roberts,
losing a wife
is not easy.
You lost your wife?
Well, no--
How would you feel
about early retirement?
We'd miss you, sir.
You know who
else would miss you?
Olga, the 250-pound
call girl you see
every Wednesday.
Your wife thinks
you're playing squash.
Well, you are, in a way.
I don't need a fanfare.
I don't need an office.
I just wanna work.
Well, what are
you waiting for?
Fuck off, Roberts.
Go solve some crimes.
Fuck.
Police! Open up!
Uh.
Oh!
Barry Weiss?
That is me.
Can we come in?
Got a warrant?
It's in the post.
Can I get you anything?
How about a cuppa, coppers?
I know you.
If we'd met,
I'm sure I'd remember.
You know what that is?
Michael Jackson's shit.
It's priceless.
I got it off eBay.
So what was it you
were looking for?
Maybe I could help you.
What do you do, Mr. Weiss?
I'm between jobs.
You like torching
dogs, do ya?
I saw your
home movie.
On YouTube, right?
It got over 9,000
hits before they
took it down.
I post--
I posted it, yeah,
but I wasn't involved.
Nah, I'm joking.
I love animals, me.
What about police, Barry?
You like them?
"Thank God," I say.
I say "Thank God
for the men in blue."
I remember you now, Barry.
Yeah, you're
the piece of shit
from the billiards hall.
Back on your feet,
I see.
Come on, Nash.
Let's get out of here.
What was
all that about?
I had a run in with
him about a year ago.
I might have put
him in the hospital.
Welcome to the liberal
Southeast.
It gets results.
Let's just keep
an eye on him.
You just wait and see.
Yeah?
You wait and see.
What are you
fucking looking at,
you fucking perv?
Fuck. Ow!
Weiss. Nice.
B. Weiss, P-23...
Weymouth Parking.
You little bastard.
Who is it?
Satellite TV.
I've come for your box.
What's the problem?
I just paid the bill.
That's funny...
because you
are the bill.
You're not
the usual bloke--
Ugh.
Ah!
Ah!
Question two. Which Scottish
music hall comedian--
B! B! B.
A. Jack Milroy
B. Andy Stewart
or C. Sir Harry Lauder?
B.
Come on, you fucking idiot, B.
Yes.
Sweet.
There 's a fire
at Cerinem Point.
In a flat on the 1 6th
floor, you'll find
cop number three.
Oh, I used a new system.
A new system?
Can you be
a bit clearer?
I pulverized
the fucker with a hammer.
Is that clear
enough for you?
I pulverized
the fucker with a hammer.
Oh, yeah.
Oh, shit.
Yeah, I forgot.
I got a name.
A name?
Is there an echo?
Stop repeating
everything I say.
It's getting
on my fucking tits.
I'm sorry.
It's "Blitz"
as in "Blitzkrieg."
You got that?
Yeah. That's good. Yeah.
Oh, fuck.
Sarge, you need
to see this.
It's the evening edition.
Bastards!
Where the hell
have you been?
Can't say.
What do you mean
you can't say?
Can't account
for my movements?
Is that
the correct lingo?
You do know another
policemans been killed?
Chief Inspector Roberts.
What?
The killer's targets
are in this station.
He used a hammer
to kill Roberts
and he torched his flat.
He contacted some hack
journalist at The Post...
called Dunlop.
Gave him all
the details.
Dunlop you say?
Yeah. Harold Dunlop.
I sent a team over there...
to tap his phone and make
sure his calls are traced.
Do you know him?
I do.
I'm Harold Dunlop
from The Post.
Hey! Get off!
All right! All right!
Bloody hell!
What was
all that about?
I told you,
I know him.
Bastard put my
picture in the paper.
Click.
Hello. Hello. Hello.
Bang. Bang.
Yippity-doo-dah-day.
Hello? Dunlop.
Is this Harold Dunlop?
Yeah. Yeah.
The Harold Dunlop?
The crime reporter?
Can you get me a latt?
Yeah. Who's this?
Mr. Dunlop, how would
you like to nail The Blitz?
Yeah, I 'd like
that very much.
Oh-ho! Is that it?
Perhaps I didn't make
myself clear, Mr. Dunlop.
I know the name
of the cop killer.
I think you're gonna
have to work a little bit
harder than that.
It'll be an honor to bring
that maniac to justice.
Yeah. Yeah.
Well, you'll have
a little think...
about how much
you'd be willing to pay.
Come now, Mr. Dunlop.
You didn't think this was
a citizen doing his bit
now, did you?
How much do you want?
For that, you get
the name of The Blitz...
plus extras.
Extras?
What do you mean extras?
Various assorted
items, Mr. Dunlop.
You'll find out
when I get my 50k.
I'm the master
of the fucking universe.
Hello.
Hey.
The fire pretty much
destroyed anything
around the body.
We found that in the bathroom.
The fire wasn't
so bad in there.
But did the heat or water
damage any DNA
or fingerprints?
I'm afraid so.
Peacock Gym.
Yeah, looks like it.
It's B rant.
Check if DI Roberts
was ever a member
of the Peacock Gym.
What are you doing?
I told you to wait
until you heard
from me.
Yeah, well,
I didn't hear from you.
Yeah.
Well, I'm sorting it.
Yeah? I'm trying to.
Look, just go home.
DI Stokes?
You must be Falls.
Yeah. Yeah.
What'll you have?
Tea, please, sir.
Just tea.
Forget the "sir" stuff.
Craig'll do.
Tea and toast
for two!
Coming up, love!
Okay. Well, we've got
two of the kids...
involved in the assault
of Mr. Azziz.
I thought-- He's not--?
Dead? Incredibly, no.
Let me see.
John Wells,
known as Metal.
This the one
you wanted to discuss?
Yes.
What is he? A snitch?
Yeah, well, you know...
and I try to look out
for him.
Thank you.
He's a piece of shit.
A thug.
Oh, he's a boy.
Underneath all that,
he's just a scared boy.
So is there
anything you can do?
Anything can be buried.
Will you?
Meet me for a drink tonight.
That's all?
Hey, Roberts and
the Peacock Gym.
Never a member.
No, of course not.
Have you got a minute?
Yeah.
Can you work that thing?
Brant, you're
such a dinosaur.
I'm surprised you can even
work your own microwave.
This is
women's work.
Just like typing.
Right.
So what are
you looking for?
Barry Weiss.
It's the Belfront Towers.
Kicked out of Peacock Gym.
Oh, wow. This guy's
always in trouble.
He's been arrested more times
than you've had WPC's.
You know I'm
not like that.
Right.
It's petty stuff, though.
What do you think?
No, nothing major.
None of that yet.
Have you got my money?
Yeah. I just had to
pull a few strings.
Pick me up outside
Weymouth Street car park.
Stand there.
All right.
There. Steady. There.
Oh, Jesus.
Click.
These are the extras
I was talking about.
Trophies, I believe
is the correct term.
And you know
who these belong to, eh?
Correct.
Right, I showed
you mine.
Perhaps we could
have a little look
at yours now.
All right.
Aw.
What?
That's not
fifty grand.
Of course
it's fifty grand.
There's no way
that's fifty grand.
When did you
last see fifty grand?
Don't you trust me?
Go and count it.
It's about
Oh. Go on, then.
I'm gonna count
every bit of it.
Good. Buy yourself
a new suit.
Fifty, fifty,
fifty, fifty, fifty.
You are a fucking genius.
I haven't told him
your name yet.
Relax. I'm not
gonna hurt you.
I only do police. Remember?
How'd you get on to me?
I got your address
from the Peacock Gym...
and I went
through your rubbish.
I found the receipt
for the parking garage.
That's very impressive.
I haven't told him
your name yet.
I haven't
told him your name.
But you're gonna
have to help me
out, see?
Ah.
I haven't told him
your name yet.
This is a bit
of a tight squeeze.
I haven't told him
your name yet.
No, no, no.
A double Irish.
Can't do, buddy.
I'm closed.
Listen up. I'm only
gonna say this once.
I ain't your 'buddy.'
When I ask
for a drink, you say,
"Ice with that, sir?"
Now let's begin again.
A double Irish.
You want ice
with that, sir?
Don't be ridiculous.
Who needs ice?
Thatll be five quid, sir.
Like you said...
you're closed.
He went to the toilet.
When he hadn't come back...
I got concerned.
I thought he fell in.
He did.
Then what happened?
Well, I went in there,
didn't l? I found him.
Well, you didn't
exactly come rushing out
though, did you, Mr. Dunlop?
The man at the bar says
you was with him
for ten minutes.
Had you down as a couple
of George Michael fans.
Hey, I was looking
for the money.
Money?
The paper's money.
We were paying him
for an exclusive.
Oh, for fuck's sake.
Can I remind you
that people...
are being killed
here, Mr. Dunlop?
Ah, yeah?
Yeah. Human beings,
with families and children.
There's a car. Yeah.
Oh, God, I forgot.
Yeah. A car.
You're not gonna
believe what's inside.
Where is this car?
Weymouth Street car park.
It's a black Jaguar.
Bay 23!
Oy! Am I gonna get
police protection?
Oh, yeah.
We'll be all over you.
Should've been
the other guy
had him killed.
What now?
Murder inquiry.
I want the disc
for the last month.
Discs are full.
What do you mean
theyre full?
They haven't recorded
anything for six weeks.
It ran out of memory.
They'll fix it Monday.
I don't believe this.
The cameras are
really turned on.
It's psychological.
You don't give
a shit, do ya?
It's disgraceful.
So is you eating it.
Hey.
You look nice.
Thanks.
Can I take
your coat?
Yeah.
Thank you.
Have a seat.
You've gone quiet.
I like
listening to you.
Everything all right?
There's got to be
an easier way to do this.
Fuck, Brant.
So how does it feel
to actually need
us girls...
for more
than just cooking
and cleaning and shagging?
I was sorting a way
of listing all Weiss'
arresting officers.
I've seemed to pull up
the first one. It's
WPC Sandra Bates.
You're kidding.
I've had
a really nice time.
Yeah.
I'll call you.
When?
When are you
gonna call me?
Tomorrow.
I'll tell you what.
How about this summer...
we'll do a picnic?
Don't you think
I know how this goes?
Man says,
"I'll call you"...
and a woman's waiting
and hoping.
She's a slave
to her mobile...
while he's thinking,
"Well, I'll call her...
tomorrow, some day,
Monday. Doesn't matter.
Well, here's a hint, yeah?
It matters.
It matters a lot.
Tomorrow. I'll
call you tomorrow.
No, fuck off.
Hey!
Jesus. Look who else.
Fuck. That's Roberts.
And Falls.
Shit. How could l
be that stupid?
Send an armed response
unit round to her flat
straight away.
It's a 19.
Come on, Falls.
We're coming.
Oh.
Oh, shit.
I'm stupid.
I'm stupid.
What the fuck?
What the fuck?
Ugh!
Not--
Doctors have given her
a sedative. She should
be out for a while.
Did she get a look
at the attacker?
All she could say for sure
is that he's big and white.
Big and white.
So it's not
the black kid
from Different Strokes.
It's Barry Weiss.
I know him.
Should you be
taking her booze?
Well, she
won't notice.
Want one?
Yeah.
Is she all right?
Who are you?
DI Craig Stokes.
I heard someone
got killed.
It's not Falls.
Cop killer
took a run at her.
Some kid jumped in,
a hoodie.
He got his ticket punched.
Were you
with Falls this evening?
Yes. We went
for a drink and
I dropped her off.
You dropped her
in it, you mean.
Did it not occur
to you to walk her
to the door?
What agent.
Taxi!
Can you take me
to Bayswater?
It's gonna
cost you, mate.
Hey, Bronski Beat.
Do I look like
the kind of cunt...
who thinks
Bayswater is just
around the corner?
Hey, stop here.
Stop here, mate.
There. Dean Court.
All right.
Yeah, all right.
There you go.
Keep it.
And question two.
We wanted to know the
post code for BIair Castle.
Don't know how many
of you ever visited
Blair Castle.
Is he dead?
What, the little skinhead?
It was a doornail.
What's the story
with you and him?
Him risking
his life for ya.
Oh, I've known him
since he was twelve.
He used to live
next door.
When I came out of rehab,
he was the only one around
here I wanted to know.
He made me tea.
I don't know.
I thought...
I could help him.
Oh, my God.
Brant.
He definitely
did a bunk.
Find anything?
Nothing incriminating, no.
Used to be
a good looking boy.
He let himself go a bit.
Let's go public
with Weiss.
Your call.
At least we'll flush
the fucker out.
Police today released
a picture of the suspect...
they would like to question
regarding The Blitz.
Yeah! I know him!
I dropped the guy off.
He was fucking psycho.
Long time, no see.
Hey.
Jack, this is
Detective Brant.
Hello, mate.
Where's our boy?
Room 7.
Go, go, go.
Fuck!
He's on the move.
Let's go.
Ugh.
We have him on the Great
Western Road.
Head down to Harrow Road.
We 'Il put him off
at the underpass.
Now running west
on the Westway.
Heading towards Paddington.
Suspect entering
train depot...
north of Paddington.
Brant still in pursuit.
All units
head for train depot...
north of Paddington.
Do not let B rant engage.
Repeat. Do not let
Brant engage.
What the fuck--
Leave it, Brant.
Brant, calm down.
We've got him.
Get the fuck--
Fuck!
Get this piece
of shit out of here.
Just calm down.
Calm down.
Move! Now!
We've got him.
We've got
him, okay?
We've got him.
The Metropolitan Police
have just confirmed...
the arrest of Barry
Weiss, the prime suspect
in The Blitz killings...
in which three London Police
officers were murdered
in cold blood...
after a dramatic chase
through West London--
A t the Paddington
train depot.
Police are refusing
to comment any further--
Just selling
records, yeah?
We're going
to record this.
Okay, Barry?
I want a lawyer
and a sandwich.
Oh, and I want to update
my Facebook status.
You have exactly
forty-eight hours.
In that time,
you either charge
my client or release him.
And he'd like
a different sandwich.
He says the bread is stale.
Weiss might be crazy
but he's not stupid.
He's covered
his tracks.
The fire at Roberts'
flat destroyed any
forensic evidence...
we might have had.
Even the Peacock
Gym link is tenuous.
Well, he's admitted
the Jag belongs to him.
It's been
sitting in a car park
for at least six months.
Anyone could've
had access to it.
There's no CCTT.
I got ahold of the guy
with the dogs, the one that
saw the first murder.
Now he's saying he can't
make a positive I D.
All right, de 's too scared.
Same goes for the barman
at the Wellesley.
You didn't find
anything at the hotel?
Nothing.
What about Forensics?
Team stripped
it down, but no.
With what we've got,
he'll be out tomorrow
laughing his head off.
We need something solid.
We'd better come up
with something quick.
Otherwise, the killer
is gonna hop, skip
and jump out of here.
The only thing he's getting
so far is a caution.
All right, Babe?
Yeah. Yeah, no. I've been
away, but...
I'm back now.
Do you want to come
to my party?
Yeah, like old times.
Can you take care
of me?
Sweet.
What's this?
Moonshine.
Irish moonshine.
Isn't this
stuff illegal?
I fucking hope so.
You drink this poison
and then you wonder
why you get blackouts.
I drink this poison
because I get blackouts.
Slinte.
Cheers.
Say we
can't prove anything.
Say Barry Weiss walks.
Where are you
going with this?
Well, you told
me once before
about some pedophile.
You couldn't
get the bastard through
the regular channels, so...
you took him out yourself.
I thought you were asleep
when I told you that.
I'm not gonna continue
this line of talk.
I don't like
where it's going.
Been a busy couple
of days for you, Barry.
Took a ride in a police car.
Got your picture in the paper.
Highlight of your career.
You know, Barry,
if you were smart...
which I know you're not...
you'd admit to what you did...
because I'm gonna tell
you now, you'll be a lot
safer in here than out there.
Were they
friends of yours...
those cops
that got killed?
You see...
I know what this
is about, Barry.
What did those lads
ever do to you, Barry?
Of course, you knew.
How did you react?
Fuck you, pig.
They call that
resisting arrest.
I call it stupid.
I know I embarrassed you.
Since then you've stewed...
and cooked
and simmered over it.
You should've just let it go.
Personally...
I didn't remember until
I saw you. Didn't give it
a second thought.
It was so insignificant,
I forgot all about it.
We sure all laughed when
I played the surveillance
tapes at the station.
We all did.
But that stuff's silly.
Sergeant Brant
to you.
The point is, Barry...
you're nothing.
No one cares.
No one gives a fuck.
Oh, and another thing.
You, The Blitz.
What the fuck is that?
Don't mean to bomb
you out, bro...
but there's some major
shit going down.
I'm listening.
A cop's ripped off
a dealer.
What?
They're getting
into the products, man.
This dealer is like
serious folks.
You fuck with him
and he gets difficult,
even with a woman.
Whoa. Whoa.
Back up a second.
A female cop
is ripping off
drug dealers?
She a sister, too.
This cop
have a name?
Yeah. Falls.
Brant. It's Stokes.
Listen, I need your help.
I think she's inside.
You crashed
a party, man.
"You crashed
a party?" You
fucking-- Get him out!
Come here.
Do you like me?
If you like me--
Look at this shit.
If you like me,
you can throw me a party.
What are you doing?
I don't wanna go!
Go back.
He's gonna kill me!
He's gonna kill me!
No! He's gonna kill me!
No!
He's gonna kill me!
What are these?
Thanks. Theyll
bring you down.
The shower did that.
Just take 'em, Falls.
I'm messed up,
aren't l?
Even when I was
working undercover...
I was a cop
pretending to be a junkie.
But really, I'm just a junkie
playing at being a cop.
He's gonna get away
with it, isn't he?
If we can't protect our own,
what good are we, Brant?
What good are we?
A lot
of press waiting?
Yes, I'm afraid so.
There's quiet a crowd
gathered outside the front.
But we can leave
through a different
exit, if you prefer.
Fuck no!
I hope it's all there.
Is something
on your mind, Barry?
Well, I guess I'll
see you another day.
I can't wait.
Don't worry. We're
having him tailed
around the clock.
Keep him
out of trouble.
We're in position now.
He's going into his flat.
Is Brant still here?
No. No, he left.
It's Roberts' funeral
this afternoon.
Every cop in the Southeast
is gonna be there.
Except you.
In company with Christ
who died and now lives...
may the rejoicing
in Your Kingdom...
where all our tears
are wiped away...
unite us together again
in one family...
to sing Your praise
forever and ever.
Amen.
Eternal rest grant
unto him, Oh, Lord...
and let perpetual light
shine upon him.
Into Your hand,
Father of Mercy...
we commend our brother
in sure and certain hope...
that together, all who
have died in Christ...
will live with Him one day.
In nomine Patris,
Filii et Spiritu
Sancti. Amen.
Beloved Bruce Roberts,
we give your body
to the earth.
Earth Mother,
Root Mother...
Father of soil.
We give You this body
of our beloved Bruce Roberts.
His eyes will never
greet us again.
Return to earth.
We will not kiss these lops.
Return to earth.
What he has been is gone.
What he is now
has passed the gate...
leaving his body
to become soil.
This flesh
to nurture flowers...
these bones
to be roots of trees.
Come on.
Yeah, what's the latest?
Weiss hasn't left
his flat all day.
Fuck.
Brant! Turn around,
you fucker!
I wanna see your face
as your head explodes.
Ugh. Agh.
What? You think
you fooled me?
No chance. I was
just playing along.
Ugh!
Ugh!
Come on, Barry.
What are you
gonna do?
Huh? Call
the cops?
You stupid fucking pig.
Wait till the papers
get a load of this, hey.
I'm gonna sue you.
And you.
And all of you
fucking pig cunts.
I'm gonna make
fucking millions.
You fucking--
Brant?
You fuck.
You can't kill me.
I'm The Blitz.
Are you talking
about that cop killer?
That can't be you, Barry.
We tried to convict you
but you were innocent.
The only thing we do know
is he was partial to
people in uniform...
just like the one
you're wearing.
And he used a weapon
just like this one.
Fucking lucky
he didn't shoot
me in the head.
Something tells me
this one's gonna
remain unsolved.
You're not supposed
to smoke in here.
What you gonna do?
Shoot me?
I'm just leaving
the office now, darling.
Yeah, I'll be back at 7:00.
I love you too, Amanda. Yeah.
There he is.
There's Brecky.
Fuck.
Bon apptit.
Get out! Get away!
When Dreams Come True