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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 Sergeant’s 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 doesn’t? 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, I’ll 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 9mm semi-automatic.
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 you’ll 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.
[Chuckles} That's funny...
because you are the bill.
You're not the usual bloke--
Ugh.
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. [Chuckles}
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 policeman’s 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 lattč?
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?
50k. In cash.
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 500 quid.
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?
That’ll 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 they’re 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?
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.
1,000 pounds.
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.
[Man over TV} 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-- [thump}
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.
Sláinte.
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!
No! He's gonna kill me!
No!
He's gonna kill me!
What are these?
Thanks. They’ll 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!
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 appétit.
Get out! Get away!
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