…Queen Beatrix reached the deck of the ship with her mother Juliana, and from…
…tonight on Vijzelstraat and Leidsestraat,
with Leidseplein and Koningsplein on either side.
There has been as much damage as was paid for the festivities.
…pure vandalism.
"Horrible, awful and an unbelievable shame,"
were the socialist politician's words.
He felt these actions were an attempt to cause mayhem.
There have also been reactions to unrest elsewhere in the country.
NOS management believes the reports on the event have been responsible.
We will conclude with the weather until tomorrow evening.
- Yeah? - Good afternoon.
The owner of this building kindly requests you to vacate the premises.
Oh yeah?
Where's the owner then?
What he does with his house is none of our business. So…
Listen, idiot.
If the owner wants us to leave, he can come here and tell us himself.
No.
The rest of the royal family boarded the S.S. Beatrix…
7 DAYS UNTIL THE CORONATION
…to watch the fireworks.
At the same time fighting and looting took place in Amsterdam's city center
as a result of the violent turmoil earlier this afternoon.
In backroom talks it was decided…
The guy in two is barfing the whole day. I've had it. Somebody take care of him.
George, put Shayla in five, and release the Chinaman in four.
This fucking mess is driving me crazy, people. A tidy house is a tidy mind.
- Talk to me, honey. - Good day. I have an appointment.
Jurriaan DeKok.
Keep your fucking hands to yourself.
- It's K-O-K. - Congratulations. With capital letters?
For a tenner you can blow me.
- Freek. - Virginia.
Virginia, sit down or I'm going to call your mother.
He'll also do it for a fiver. Who do you need?
Mr Montijn.
Tonnie Montijn. The meeting was for half past nine.
- With Tonnie? - That's right.
Around the corner.
- This way? - He's at Lowietje.
Nice shoes.
The riots in the capital lasted until the evening.
We're closed.
Hey idiot, you deaf?
No, I have an appointment with a Mr Montijn.
Tscheu La Ling.
I just don't get it.
Fucking unbelievable.
Boy oh boy. Tscheu La fucking Ling.
Why do we need this half ass Chinaman when we got Vanenburg.
- Have they lost their minds? - You know what Ajax should do?
- Well? - Get Cruijff back.
In your dreams.
Soccer?
- You must be with the police. - Uh, yes.
- Lowie. Get Sherlock some coffee. - Oh no, thank you, I'm okay.
Did you just come from the gym?
I just wanted to say that I'm glad to receive this opportunity.
- What opportunity? - To work together.
- Work together? - Correct.
I got a letter from the commissioner, De Woerd.
A response to my application. He said that I am to work with you.
Urk.
Yes. Born and raised.
Do you have cash on you?
No.
Lesson one: Always have money on you around here.
- Well, I'll see you later then. - Sorry?
Half past nine, right?
Half past nine in the evening, mate. Night shift.
You done, honey?
- You were terrific. - Bye, darling.
- Well, what can I do for you? - I'm just waiting.
What for? The tram? The only line that runs around here is line 69.
- Hey, early bird. - Tonnie, you owe me a tenner.
Get rid of your crotch crickets yet, Rebecca?
Screw you, limp dick. Fuck off, asshole.
Leave that at home. For your own safety.
This week two cops have been sent to the hospital.
And if you're with me, everyone will know who you are.
Hey Richard, take it easy. I know where to find you.
The lingo is different too. Lesson two: A fiver is different than the Five-O.
And a buck is different than a fuck. You'll get the hang of it.
- Hey, doll. - Hot stuff.
- By the way, do you have a house? - Yes, I found a place.
Great. That seems to be a problem nowadays.
- Whereabouts? - On Zeedijk.
Nice. If you want your mail to smell like piss.
- Wife? Girlfriend? Kids? - Uh, no.
- Boyfriend? - No, nothing.
It doesn't matter to me. Everything goes in Amsterdam.
I am single.
That'll save you a lot of trouble when you get shot in the face. Here we are.
Nell?
Nellie?
Nell?
- Nellie? - Hey, cutie.
Hey, Tonnie.
I'm looking for Ron. You know where he is?
Who's Ron?
Really?
Are you serious? Have it your way.
Ron?
Ronny?
- Fuck off, man. I'm busy. - Hi, Tonnie.
- Asshole. - Sorry.
Ton, quit it. He's upstairs.
Now, was that so difficult?
Urk is new, and he's happily single.
For another one of these you'll get a half hour with me.
What kind of tourist rates are those? How long have we known each other?
- Block is my friend. - It's DeKok.
Often misspelled as C-O-C-K.
Ronny?
Ron?
Ronny?
I've had it with this bullshit. How am I supposed to get it up?
Urk, give me a hand.
Urk?
- Don't point your gun at me, man. - Leave me alone, faggot.
Talk to me with some respect, you filthy junk.
- I've already said, if he calls me… - Shut up, Ron. I'm busy.
Not like this.
A drug-related crime, Urk. Fished it right out of his pocket.
- You planted that there. - Get up. On your knees. Sit down.
Keep an eye on David Bowie here, will you.
Let's see what he brought along.
Look what I found here. That's so generous. Thanks, buddy.
Those pills are for my heart.
- Maybe I should… - Keep an eye on your suspect, detective.
Goddammit.
Hell of a first day, DeKok.
- Sorry. Sorry. - Go away.
Thanks, asshole.
You got some speed, DeKok.
Lesson three: Never chase trams, junkies or women.
There'll always be a next one. Hey, Ron.
What?
- Let's go. Give me the keys. - What?
Come on, Urk, move it. Go, go, go.
Let's go. Let precinct Rapenburg pull it out of the canal.
- But I already had it called in. - What?
Seriously?
- So, Tonnie. You pulled out a drunkard? - And a squatter to boot.
That's going to be a week of paperwork.
- Why didn't you call precinct Rapenburg? - That's what we would've done.
- I didn't know you… - It's best if you stay away from me.
6 DAYS UNTIL THE CORONATION
Can someone tell me why our sweet Lord and Savior hates my fucking guts?
I see you thinking: "But, Chief, you're a man who has it all.
You have a pretty face, you're a natural leader…"
- Humble. - Yes, humble.
Thanks, Van Kemenade. So why the long face?
Jesse Schippers. Thierry Lejeune. Maxine de Waard.
We know who they are. We know where they live.
And we know they've got something planned on Coronation Day.
It's our job to make sure it doesn't turn into a goddamn disaster.
However, I just received a call from our wonderful mayor himself
saying we should keep our hands off of them if we don't have any proof.
- Ridiculous. - Something about the constitution.
- Oh, that old thing. - So we're going to be busy this week.
- I have 35 full-timers in the hospital. - Look, the canal cops.
And to make matters worse, my star detective decided
that it was a good idea to fish a drunk pisser from the canal.
Montijn, my office.
Glad someone here is still doing the hard work.
District South called saying there's a cat in a tree, maybe you can help?
Maybe you should go. You haven't had pussy in while.
He's allergic.
No, he means pussy.
Good one.
Fingers off of my blinds, Tonnie. Only I can touch my blinds. Got it?
Half my squad is in the hospital and you pull a drunkard out of the canal.
- We have uniformed officers for that. - Sorry, sir, it's my fault.
I thought "Vigilance while they rest" was our motto. I didn't know…
- Tonnie? - Chief.
Who is this?
Jurriaan DeKok, sir.
We spoke on the phone. It's my first day.
Well, you're off to a great start, DeKok. How long is your trial period?
We'll stop by the morgue, pull down his fly, take a photo, and we're done.
I want a short report. Don't piss away time with the coronation coming up.
Yes, Chief.
What were you doing there anyway? Don't you have anything better to do?
We were making the rounds when Jurre here saw him floating. Right?
- Uh, yeah. - You have two days.
Understood, Chief.
- Sorry. - Sorry for what?
Sorry I didn't know we weren't supposed to…
If it gets me away from the coronation for two days, I'm happy.
I almost forgot.
- Your cut from Ron. - Oh no, that's alright.
- Sure? Have you seen your pay check? - Yeah, it's fine. Really.
Ron would've used this to buy smack, heroin.
You'll learn soon enough that it's not all black and white.
I'm hungry. Let's go.
Or did you have other plans?
- Ma? - Hey, Tonnie.
We're getting a bite to eat. This is Jurre, my new partner.
- Hello, ma'am. Jurre DeKok. - Nice to meet you. Louise Montijn.
Nice you finally brought someone along. If it's not a good time…
No problem. I'll peel some extra potatoes.
- Where's fatty? - At school.
My daughter, Pien, goes to university.
Jurre's from Urk. They only have an elementary school over there.
Nothing wrong with that. I also only went to elementary school.
Oh no, I finished college.
He fished a corpse out of the canal last night.
Christ's sake. I don't want to hear about that before dinner.
- Hang up his jacket, will you. - This will be the first and last time.
- Ma? - That's Pien.
Good to see you, fatty.
- Have you been smoking again? - No, my friends.
- I have friends, unlike you. - Very funny. This is Jurre.
- Hi. - Hi.
Jurre DeKok.
I see this was a mistake, Ma. We're kicking him out after dinner.
- Here you go. - Tonnie. Jacket.
- Want me to hang yours up too, fatty? - Yes.
Cheers.
The tanks were followed by hundreds of police and gendarmerie officers.
Some youngsters…
Can you please turn that off? We have a guest.
Tanks. Unbelievable. It's as if the goddamn krauts are back.
- But they are. - I think Claus is a really nice man.
And he seems perfect for Beatrix.
At the university they don't really like the royal family.
We don't like their money, which could be used to solve the housing shortage.
You have a house. You live here.
- Please. - Yeah, we do.
If that scum wants to live somewhere, they should get a job.
- What job? There are no jobs. - Jurre has a job. And he also has a house.
- This is lovely. Really lovely. - Yes? Great.
They're a bunch of filthy freeloaders. They're fucking lazy.
- You sound just like Dad. - That's enough!
Jurre, would you like some coffee?
Oh no, let me help.
You see. That's what they learn in Urk. Work.
Jurre has a very refreshing appearance.
- What? - Nothing.
I saw you.
Good for you.
- In the squat. - The squat?
Why would I be in a squat? I have a home.
And you? Do you have a home with its own kitchen?
Or do you eat with someone else every evening?
I'm certain it was you.
Maybe in your dreams.
Listen, I understand you have sympathy for the squatters and want to help them.
Their hard core isn't playing games.
Thank you for your concern, officer. I'll take it into consideration.
Now you'll probably tell Tonnie everything, right?
This one's still dirty.
5 DAYS UNTIL THE CORONATION
This guy drank a little more than just canal water.
Anyway, forehead wound inflicted by a blunt object.
Maybe a pole, or something at the bottom of the canal.
- That was the cause of death? - No. He drowned.
- Tumbled in while pissing? - Well…
Don't say "well." Why did you say "well"?
With the amount of alcohol and heroin in his system
I doubt he could even stand upright, let alone open his fly.
- Maybe he had help. - My first guess, but I'm not sure,
is that his unconscious body was dumped into the canal.
- So it's murder. - The rookie is eager.
Listen, he fell asleep on the ledge and rolled into the canal.
- Happens all the time. - Yes, but then there's also this.
- You could've just started with this. - Yeah, but I like to keep it exciting.
- Rat. Maybe he was an informant. - Not one of mine in any case.
Since I like you guys so much, there is also some good news.
His pockets were empty, of course, but they forgot to check his boots.
Take a look at that. Thank you. Here you go, DeKok.
Let's roll. I can't stand the stench here. Later, babe.
Bye?
"John Doe drowned in his own state of mind." How does that sound?
- Tonnie? - Yeah?
Duivendrecht.
Number three is ours.
Just great.
Christ.
Lesson seven:
A search warrant is only needed when someone sees you entering.
That's not the case now. Can you shine the light over here?
Here you go.
- Jurre? - Yeah?
- Do me a favor. - Sure.
The next time you see a body floating in the canal…
- I'll just leave him there. - That would be great.
4 DAYS UNTIL THE CORONATION
We found a floor plan of the New Church where the coronation will take place.
- Maybe it's fake. - It's not.
- I don't mean the floor plan, but… - Wait.
It's the same floor plan. Upper House, Lower House,
the president of France, the crown prince of England.
There are maybe a hundred people who've been given a floor plan like this.
- A hundred and one, apparently. - Show me that photo again.
- You sure you don't know him? - No, Chief.
Goddammit. I told them to do the ceremony at Soestdijk or in The Hague,
but no, no, no, it has to be here, in our neck of the woods.
- What are we going to do? - We have four days.
Take a forensic team with you. If there's even one fingerprint pointing
towards one of the squatters in charge, I can finally lock them all up.
Tonnie. Only the two of you.
Gentlemen, knock yourself out.
- You got to explain me one thing, DeKok. - What?
Why here? Why the Red Light District?
I mean, you were the top of your class. You're a good-looking guy.
Very righteous. Maybe a bit too much. So why did you ask to work with me?
Oh, that.
I wanted a challenge. I knew that this station was the most…
The biggest piss bucket in the Netherlands.
- This is two kilometers of misery. - Something like that.
And I…
I really want to make a change.
Oh God, you're one of those.
- You know what's come to my attention? - Well?
Since you entered my life, shit just keeps hitting the fan.
Just kidding.
Goddammit, it's a quarter past ten.
- What? - We're drinking.
- Drinking? - Yes, we're getting a drink.
- He'll take one too. - He still needs to pay for the last one.
Don't be a dick. He's with me. Just put it on my tab.
- Your tab? - My tab.
You better have a good story, pal.
We found a floor plan of the New Church with stuff even we know nothing about.
Who is this?
He's one of ours. Mees from Groningen. Okay?
Nice to meet you. Jurre DeKok.
It must be linked to the coronation.
And we've found a body in the canal. Most likely a squatter.
He had the word "rat" carved into his abdomen.
- And? - I don't know him. So he's not a squatter.
And I also don't think he's an undercover cop.
Can you ask around if they're missing anyone?
- Sounds like a fucking shit show to me. - Pardon me?
I'm not asking around. They're all paranoid.
If I do, I'll be lying there next to him. I don't ask. I listen.
I'm not listening, I'm asking.
Come on, Mees. I need info.
Okay, listen.
There's a meeting tonight at Fort Keizer with the hard core.
- Attend that meeting and we're set. - No, I'm bartending.
If I change my routines now, it's going to stand out.
- I can get someone in, though. - Fine, I'll go.
No. Man, even my mother knows who you are.
I'll take this shithead.
I don't know if this is a good idea.
It's best if you just get a drink and stay at the bar.
Most of them will drink so much they'll spill their guts anyway.
- And if they ask where I'm from? - Then you're the first squatter of Urk.
- From Urk. - Like this?
- Yes? - Almost there.
- Shame on you. - Why did you do that?
Now you really look like a squatter.
INOCCUPANCY A TRAVESTY
You'll be all right.
- A beer. - Coming up.
What are you looking at?
What the fuck are you looking at?
I'm…
I'm looking for a friend of mine. Tall guy, mohawk, brown eyes.
How did you get in here?
Through the front door, idiot. How about you?
Fucking wankers.
Is everyone having a good time?
Thank you. Good evening.
Also a warm welcome to all the police who are here tonight.
Fuck you all.
And now some good news.
Our radio station, the megaphone for all squatters, has a new DJ.
Hot of the press. She has a heart of gold, an iron will, and an acid tongue.
The Pien Machine.
Hello, everyone. Live from the Fort Keizer.
Squatnet Radio, 95.6 FM. Can you hear me?
And at home, fellow comrades, who are exploited and eaten away by the man.
People all over the world who are done with the scum
who spit us and our friends out onto the street: Can you hear me?
And how about you, you dirty filthy capitalist?
You and all your friends, bankers and politicians who think they're safe
from a small innocent girl like me and the fucking bricks I carry with me.
Can you hear me?
I hope so, for your sake.
If not today, then tomorrow or the day after. You shall certainly hear us roar.
- No habitation. - No coronation.
It has come to my attention that you're in the market for two kilos of uncut coke.
- Where's Marcel? - That's right. Where's Marcel?
- I don't know a Marcel. - Marcel the Belgian.
- We're supposed to do business with him. - Oh, that Marcel. He's unable to attend.
Fucking bullshit. Who let this fascist pig in?
Maybe your friend should shut it, Jesse.
- Shut the fuck up. - Listen, I'm just here to do business.
You can't fight the riot police doped up on heroin.
You have a war to win. And I happen to have the magic potion to do just that.
- Do you want it or not? - No, Jesse.
You won't get it from Marcel.
Finally, at least someone is using their brains.
Do you think I'll stand out carrying all that cash in public like that?
Maybe you should fetch me a bag.
Do we have a bag?
- Oh, hey. - Don't "hey" me.
Did Tonnie send you?
- Pien. What the fuck is this? - Nothing.
- Who's that? - This is Jurre, a friend of mine.
- How'd you get inside? - I let him in.
Do I need permission for that as well?
Can you leave us alone? We were in the middle of something.
Leave me alone, okay? We don't like your kind around here.
- Drugs? - Coke.
3 DAYS UNTIL THE CORONATION
And how much coke are we talking about?
- Two kilos. - Two kilos?
And how did these squatters get all that cash, Jurre?
- There's a lot of them. - Look out the window.
This is Amsterdam. Everyone's doing heroin.
The only coke here are a few packages that come in by truck from Antwerp.
Maybe the Belgian police can help us.
- They spoke about a Belgian, Marcel. - I think we have better things to do.
Jurre, feel free to contact the Belgians, but do it fast.
Drugs are the least of our problems.
We have a coronation in three days and an unidentified dead informant
with serious indications there's going to be an attack.
Perhaps we should focus more on that.
- Why don't we arrest the squatters? - Drugs are a daily problem in Amsterdam.
In three days someone might blow up the New Church.
But I saw them with the coke.
Three more days. We'll go on your drug hunt after that, okay?
Man, oh man.
- You missed a spot. - Excuse me?
- It's still black. - I must've washed my hair five times.
It's crap dye. Once it's fully dried, it'll takes weeks to wash out.
- I think it suits him. - He looks like a guinea pig.
He's right, though.
- Shame I didn't see it immediately. - What?
The dye is partially washed away. Wounds on the scalp.
The mohawk was made posthumously.
- Who's trying to mislead us? - Oh yeah, and who the fuck is this then?
Marcel.
The Belgian.
I'm starting to like the new guy.
If he keeps this up, I think he'll end up on your table soon.
Can you tell us who this is?
And? Is it true?
What?
That within an hour you can get that photo anywhere in the world.
- Within a half an hour even. - No way.
- I can't bring it to Antwerp that quickly. - Antwerp. Never been there.
Me neither.
Hey, Colombo. Hey, honey.
- Explain it to me sometime. - Sure.
Listen, lesson eight:
Don't dip your pen in company ink. It never ends well. Trust me.
Say what you like about those squatters, but they can take a beating.
Fucking annoying.
You're going to put that shirt on expenses.
Baks. It's for you guys.
Baks speaking.
Thanks. Anonymous tip.
Baks.
Well, fuck me sideways.
- I really had to beat it out of them. - Oh, I thought it was an anonymous tip.
- No, it was good detective work. - What the hell are you doing?
- Just look at all that. Crazy. - Fucking nut jobs.
- Hello? - Mertens, Antwerp Police. Jurre DeKok?
- Speaking. - I received your fax,
but it's just one big blur.
- You can't be serious. - I can't make head or tail of it.
- Okay, we'll come over in person. - Today?
- Yes. - I'll see you.
Bye.
What a fucking long drive. I hate Belgium, you know that?
- You hate everything outside Amsterdam. - Me? Not true.
Anything beyond Marnixkade feels like a day trip for me.
- What's Pien studying anyway? - Who, my Pien?
- Yes. - No idea.
Politics or something. Why?
No reason.
Jurre, Pien's not for you. Understood?
I know. Of course. I didn't mean it like that.
I was just curious.
Be curious about some other girl, but not Pien.
We need to find you a chick, that's what it is.
- No, I've had enough of women lately. - Really?
Then we definitely need to find you a chick.
Nice one.
Corneel? The Dutchies.
- Tonnie Montijn. - Corneel Mertens.
- Jurre DeKok. - Ah, yes. Well…
Sorry we had to meet here.
Probably the handy work of Flanders' biggest criminal, Seppe Brunae.
Absolutely ruthless.
A total lack of respect or morals.
Cocaine.
Be warned. It's coming your way, too.
Anyway, the reason we're here is this.
Maybe imagine him without the mohawk.
I don't need to. That is Marcel Pittoors.
Married to Seppe Brunae's niece.
And where can we find her?
Good night.
Evening.
Good evening.
Two jars, please.
Two what?
Two beers.
- They says "pints" here. - Pints… Fuck off.
I prefer Café Lowietje, right?
Thank you kindly.
Excuse me.
We're looking for Marcel Pittoors.
Don't know him.
We understood he was a friend of yours.
I don't know any Marcel.
And we're about to close. That's 40 francs, please.
- Sorry? - Can't we finish our…
I'm not asking again.
Why are we leaving?
How do you think it went?
Marcel is dead.
What?
They found his body in a canal, all blue and bloated.
- He's lying. - Unfortunately not.
He'd been in the water for a week so the rats got to him, too.
Right, DeKok? His dick was hanging by a tiny thread.
Fortunately you didn't know him.
Is this really necessary?
- Let's go inside. - Sometimes you have to push a little.
He was sent ahead to Amsterdam.
Normally he would sell half a kilo a week,
but Seppe wanted to find a new buyer. For two kilos.
- And then another 50. - 50 kilos?
- To whom? - Those squatters.
Do you have any names for us?
- I'm really sorry. Thanks anyway. - Wait a moment.
Who was the previous buyer?
Bob.
- Bob who? - Bob… I don't know. Oh, Seppe.
Good evening.
- Good evening. - And who are the pretty ladies?
- None of your fucking business. - Ay.
I only hope you weren't sent here by Bob Donkers.
And what if we were?
What if we were?
Wow. You're a long way from home, aren't you?
Kitty, my guys are thirsty.
Let's go.
- Who were those guys? - Marcel is dead.
- Come again? - Marcel is dead.
Who's Bob Donkers?
What is it you want to hear? What is it you want to hear, Jurre?
That you were right about Marcel and the drugs? Well done, well done.
You did a great job, alright? Now we know who the guy is.
Our two days are up. Done. Finished.
- Then what do you suggest? - I suggest we warn the chief.
Okay.
Who is Bob Donkers?
2 DAYS UNTIL THE CORONATION
Hi, Barrie. Still paying off your debts?
Old habits, you know?
- I need new shoes. - Sure, for your new boyfriend?
No, for your mother. Alright?
Barrie, don't be a dick. Let the boys in.
Heavy security. For a shoe store.
Hello.
He needs to live up to his name, Barrie Kade.
- Take a seat, madam. - Thank you.
I don't know you. I'm Bob Donkers, nice to meet you.
Jurre DeKok.
Support soles for the friendly neighborhood cop?
Funny.
- What do you think, Mrs Van Dijk? - I think they're quite handsome.
I couldn't agree more. Put your foot up here.
Lift it up a little bit.
Well…
Go ahead.
We're here to ask some questions about Marcel Pittoors.
Did you hear that Fat Nelis died?
The guy with no teeth? That's rough.
He was a moonlighter on Kinkerstraat. Toothless Fat Nelis.
- Ton and I grew up together. - Do you have to tell this story?
It's a good story. I used to fuck around with my mates on Kinkerstraat.
Nasty little fuckers, we were. Not Ton, though.
Ton's dad used to smack him about and he wanted to join the police.
Right, Ton? But anyway, Fat Nelis approaches us
and he says to us:
"What?" He had no teeth, so I couldn't understand him.
He says: "I'll pay you 12 grand if you kill my wife."
But what does this fucking idiot do? He gives us the money up front.
All of it. In one go.
Now, you guess what we did next.
- You kept the money. - No, of course not!
What kind of cop are you? We called the police.
Who is Marcel Pittoors?
We found him dead in a canal last week.
He was on his way here to deliver two kilos of coke.
Put your foot on here, madam.
Okay, well…
Ask your question.
We want to know if the Belgians tried to cut you out.
It's Jurre, right?
Yes.
I'm sorry, Jurre, I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about.
I'm an orthopedist. I own a few buildings.
Which is tough nowadays because you guys can't control the squatters.
But, hey, who am I to tell you how to do your job?
I'm sure you have the situation under control. Right, Ton?
- Absolutely, Bob. - Yeah.
The other foot please, Mrs Van Dijk. That's right, very good.
Come on. Let's go.
- What happened to the woman? - Fat Nelis' old lady?
Yes.
They found her in the bathtub, cut to pieces.
Let's go, we're done here.
Could you stand up for a moment?
Yes, I'm not quite sure.
- Sorry, guys. Hey, Barrie. - Hey, sport.
Hey, where were you? You can't keep the chief waiting like that.
Calm down, darling.
Look, unbelievable.
Boys, come in. Sit down.
So, Tonnie. The squatter in the canal. Any progress?
Unfortunately not, Chief. We don't know jack about the New Church, either.
- We hit a dead end in Belgium, too. - Excuse me, Chief.
I think we found some major leads in Belgium.
Plus, we just spoke to Bob Donkers. And I strongly feel we're being misled.
- I would… - Sure, but I need to prioritize things.
Is Belgium a threat to the coronation? No. Belgium is all about drugs.
That Semtex that was found in the squat clearly indicates that there are plans
to blow up our royal family.
I spoke to the mayor.
He's very sensitive about Amsterdam's reputation as a tolerant city.
Where everyone has a right to demonstrate.
But if you think the coronation is in danger,
then we can talk about additional, temporary…
measures.
- Do we have a problem, Jurre? - What are you doing?
Me? Listen, I know it's all new and exciting in the big city for you,
but the coronation is in two days. Do you have any idea what's going down?
- No. - That's what I mean.
It's not our job. This shit is above us. Above our pay grades.
- "Vigilance while they rest." - Let it go, will you?
- Are you even paying attention? - What do you mean?
Let's get one thing straight. If all hell breaks loose with those squatters,
I rely on you to have my back.
Children, can I have your attention?
The mayor has given us a green light to handle things a little differently.
It's time to tighten the thumb screws.
So if one out of every four squatters accidentally walks into a baton,
you won't hear any complaints from me.
We will surely get in trouble for that, but that will be after the coronation.
The plan is to raid all the smaller squats simultaneously today.
And early tomorrow morning we will storm the squatters' HQ,
culminating in a raid on Fort Keizer. Thank you.
Montijn speaking. It's Jurre.
Oh, hi, Jurre. How nice. But Tonnie's not in.
I'm not calling for Tonnie, I'm calling for Pien.
- Pien? - Yes.
She's at the university. No wait, she said she was going to sleep over somewhere.
- What's wrong? - No, it's nothing. Bye.
Oh, okay. Bye.
- Pien. Where's Pien? - Over there.
Hold this.
- I need bandages! - Pien.
- What the fuck are you doing here? - I've come to warn you.
- They'll kill you if they see you. - You have to get out.
Pien.
Go home.
- What happened? - The police are going nuts.
Thierry! He's not responding.
- Fuck! - He's bleeding too heavily.
Move aside!
- He's losing too much blood. - Has anyone got any coins?
He's not responding. Thierry!
- Coins. - Jesse.
- Coins. - Yes, here.
Hold his chin up. At right-angles.
- Thierry! - Mouth-to-mouth.
Pinch his nose.
Okay, out of the way, move!
Do it again.
I can't feel a thing. No pulse, nothing.
Call an ambulance! Move!
Get off him. Breathe. Keep his mouth open. Head straight.
Amsterdam is preparing for Queen Beatrix's inauguration ceremony.
The first guests arrived yesterday. Today, the royal guests will arrive.
Prince Charles, the British crown prince and most important guest arrived…
Jesse?
- Is Thierry okay? - Thierry is alive.
- And you? - Me too.
- What the fuck is that pig doing here? - He saved Thierry's life.
- I don't give a shit. Fuck off, you pig. - Calm down.
Knock it off.
Right now there are riots between protesters and the police.
- You need to get out of here. - No, I'm not leaving.
It'll only get worse. Tomorrow, there will be 1,000 riot police on the doorstep.
And what about these people and the children?
- I don't know. - Where will they all live?
I don't know. Somewhere where there are homes.
Outside the city? Tucked away in the Bijlmer somewhere?
- Is the city only for the rich? - No. Well…
No.
If all these people decided to move to Urk tomorrow,
and the rent goes up by 500 per cent, overnight,
- will you all leave? - I understand it's hard.
But I just don't believe violence is the solution.
Tell your boss that. You were saying something about 1,000 riot police.
The police are only trying to keep it livable.
- Livable? Don't you have eyes? - Don't you?
Why are you being so difficult? I'm just trying to help.
I know.
Honestly, Jurre.
Thank you.
Is there anyone more noble in this world than you?
- Is that how you want to play it? - Yes, or else?
You're off again?
Fine. I'll see you and your 1,000 friends tomorrow.
Where did you learn that?
What?
How to do CPR.
At sea.
And now the Red Light District?
I wanted to work somewhere where I could really help people.
Oh, Lord. You're one of those.
- Your brother said exactly the same. - Tonnie is a relic.
He still thinks this is the sixties and they're all petty criminals.
If my mother hadn't made him go to school, he'd have ended up just like his friends.
What friends?
People like Buffoon, Shoeshine Bob, Steel Jan.
Bob Donkers?
Were they friends?
Yes, very close.
They still are.
Please make sure you're out of here on time tomorrow.
Fine, Jurre.
AMSTERDAM, 29 APRIL 1980 ONE DAY UNTIL THE CORONATION
Alright, the plan is clear. The batons go in first, then you.
We arrest all of them, but we want those three in particular.
This is the police.
Please come outside or we will resort to action.
No, no, no.
Pien?
Hello?
No.
Stop.
Let me through.
Let him through, leave him alone.
They've all left, there is nobody there. They have all jumped ship.
- What? - Somebody ratted. There's no one inside.
Oh, my God.
- How the fuck did they know? - They left last night. I don't know.
- Where were you? - Nice timing, Jurre.
- We waited for you. - Is there something I should know?
Shut the fuck up, all of you.
- Repeat. Over. - Back-up needed on Rapenburg.
To Rapenburg. Move it.
Oh, fuck off.
How did you get that blood on your shirt?
Bob is quite something.
I didn't know you were such good friends.
Don't get in the way out there or you might get hit with a nightstick.
Stand your ground.
Don't break formation.
Molotov.
Stay close together.
Maintain formation.
Keep walking.
There's still someone in the van.
- We have to. - Let's go.
Move it! There's somebody in here.
- Open it, goddammit. - It's jammed.
The side door.
Here, man.
You okay?
We have to get out.
Can you hear me?
- Help me. - Again.
Hold it open.
Pien.
I saw Pien. I saw my sister.
Quick, get out of here.
Hold this.
Pien!
Wait.
Come here.
This way.
Fucking traitor.
Pien! No!
No, stay with me. Ambulance!
Ambulance!
That's enough, sit down. Go and argue somewhere else. Sit down.
- Listen to me. - Jurre, please.
Tonnie.
- I have to… - This is about my sister.
- Can you hold on to this for me? - Sure.
Well, look who's here.
Every hand you lay on me means a day less in jail for me.
- What was she doing there? - Who are you talking about?
- You know exactly who I mean. - Oh, Pien?
Our warrior in fishnet tights.
- She couldn't stay away. - A dirty whore is who you are.
How is she?
- He's going to beat her to death. - I hope he does.
Take it easy, cowboy.
Do you always treat the ladies like this?
Does it give you a boner?
I'm sorry we had to hurt her a bit.
What did you say?
Oh, man. You wouldn't accept it if one…
if one of my men was fucking your wife.
That kind of behavior gets in the way of the cause.
No matter how well she conveyed her idealism, she was fucking the enemy.
And that makes her a dirty kraut whore.
I was actually impressed…
by your tolerance.
- What's that? - That you let him have his way with her.
- With your little sister. - Sorry?
We could evacuate the Keizer squat on time and leave you a beautiful surprise behind
because he had to follow his dick and stick it into your sister.
- What did you say? - Then again, with a name like that.
A name like that says it all, really.
Man, what is his name again?
What's his name again?
- Goddam… - DeKok.
- Tonnie… - Fuck off.
Thank you, Baks.
Chief.
I wanted to warn Pien, that's all.
And she immediately told her friends.
- I don't believe that. - What you believe doesn't matter, DeKok.
Six of my men are hospitalized thanks to your actions.
You've only been here a week. I doubt you'll last another.
Chief, Tonnie and Bob Donkers are childhood friends.
I'm convinced that Bob Donkers had a Flemish drug dealer killed
and dumped as a squatter in a canal.
And the evidence for this is what?
There is no evidence.
- We found something in the Vondel Church. - What?
- Three empty sniper rifle cases. - Look, DeKok, hard evidence.
You're lucky I need everyone I can get.
You'll be providing security tomorrow at the coronation.
Every police officer will be within a 200-meter radius
to protect our new queen.
And if Bob Donkers or whoever wants to sell a kilo of coke tomorrow,
we will deal with it the day after tomorrow.
Is that clear, DeKok?
Unacceptable.
Mayor Polak said that a major police intervention at the squat
can be avoided if the squatters are prepared to negotiate.
But the chances of that are small.
HOSPITAL
AMSTERDAM, 30 APRIL 1980 CORONATION DAY
NO HABITATION NO CORONATION
Practically all the prominent guests are staying in the Amstel Hotel,
which is heavily guarded.
All these measures are in place to ensure a smooth coronation on the Dam.
Before the visitors enter the church, they'll pass through metal detectors
provided by Schiphol Airport.
Let's go to our reporter Hugo van Rijn for an update on the current situation.
Fences have been placed and the police are stopping all traffic.
Only cyclists and public transport…
Okay, today is the big day.
Thanks to Mr Hans Wiegel, I have about 6,000 policemen at my disposal,
and probably the same number of squatters, demonstrators and opportunists
who want to have their own party. The threat to security remains serious.
It didn't have to come to this.
We don't want power. We don't want money.
We don't want to be on TV.
Waiting in the Moses Hall are the chairmen of the Upper and Lower House,
the representatives of the Dutch Antilles, the cabinet,
the vice-president of the Council of State,
the queen's commissioner and the Amsterdam mayor. The princess…
Today, everyone's eyes are focused on Dam Square and on nothing else.
No fuck-ups, no hesitating.
If you have to, you hit first and then ask questions.
But I don't want to see any firearms today.
I'm not going down in history
as the chief of police who had a massacre on his hands.
Accommodation, safety, honesty.
And yes, we're prepared to die for it.
The outer ring is shut off to squatters, demonstrators or any other scumbags.
- No habitation. - No coronation.
I only want to see people celebrating, today.
Okay, let's get to work.
- Post 1 to Post 11. How are you? - Post 11, everything under control.
- Good. Stand by. - Stand by.
At the moment, the situation is fairly calm.
The number of wounded policemen is six. Of the squatters it's unknown.
Jurre to Command, all quiet.
31 to Command, we've got trainloads of demonstrators are heading your way.
God, Jesus. What a fucking awful day.
- Shouldn't we draw the bridges? - Good advice, not doing it.
A building is being squatted on Kinkerstraat right now.
Unit A, move from Nieuwmarkt to Kinkerstraat.
Switch to Kinkerstraat.
Okay, guys. Everyone keep their eyes peeled.
Look to the left. Top window. Activity.
Can we see what's happening? What do you see?
I have no idea. I've got my eyes on them.
It's a banner, a banner. They're letting down a banner.
Can somebody please get those rats out of there?
By eleven o'clock, Dam Square is full of people
waiting for the abdicated and the new queen
to appear on the palace balcony.
I introduce to you Beatrix, your new queen.
Yes, they're inside.
It's all under control.
…as Princess Juliana.
All together we head into the future.
We're all set, Bob.
I strive for nothing else
but to be at your disposal and that of the people,
and to serve the nation.
- I'll be right back. - Long live the Netherlands.
- Wait. Command? - Yes, come in.
Should Tonnie…
- Hello, Command? - I can't hear you, Jurre.
Guys, this isn't happening, is it?
Hello, can somebody answer me?
Hello? Okay, I'm…
Jesus fucking Christ. Come on, get on with it.
…where you first appeared as Queen Juliana,
I now wish you
many more years of happiness and satisfaction…
- Jurre for Command. - …as Princess Juliana.
Command, Command.
Long live the Netherlands.
Hey, bike for sale.
- Did it all work out? - I'm here, aren't I?
Bob, I'm not going in, I've done my bit. You have uniforms and a get-away car.
Your bit? Your bit is done once we've paid the Belgians.
Or did you think we'd be doing the dirty work?
We're in this shit because your goons can't control themselves. Okay?
And you were there, weren't you? Or did I dream all that?
Emergency, ma'am. Call your boss and gather everyone outside.
The police has declared a state of emergency.
- Can I help you? - An emergency due to the squatter riots.
- Everybody must leave the building. - Linda, gather the staff.
Stand over here.
- The alarm is switched off. - That's great.
We want to take a look in your safe.
Command?
Guys, I… Why don't I hear anything?
We don't have access to the safe.
- Has anyone done a first-aid course? - Me.
- Fuck, goddammit. - Can somebody open the safe now?
Jurre to Command.
- What the fuck are you doing? - Ma'am, this way.
I'll go with you, come on.
- You fucking psychopath. - You're on the lookout, half-ass crook.
Wait here, stand still. Line up here and stand still.
Open it. Perfect, next.
Well done. Give me the keys. Don't move!
Breathe in and out. You'll be fine. You can call an ambulance once we're gone.
- Jurre. - Where are they?
- I'm glad you're here. - Where are they?
- Call an ambulance. - Move away.
- This is not what it seems. - I'm not stupid.
- I told you it's not all black and white. - Move away.
What a first week you're having.
- Come on! - Move, pigs.
Move it, faster! Get in there!
- This is bigger than you think. - With you and Bob, yes.
I'm undercover.
I'm undercover. Help me, please.
- Bob is emptying out the safe. - How's that?
Honestly, Jurre.
Grab his arm. He passed out. Take him outside.
- Hold his arm. - Yes, we must tie it off. His belt.
Sorry, buddy.
Come on.
- What's all this? - Some loser trying to be a hero.
- Well, finish him. - No.
Goddammit.
Get the fuck out of here.
AMSTERDAM, 1 MAY 1980 8 HOURS AFTER THE CORONATION
There he is.
Well…
I have 80 officers in hospital.
The riots are ongoing, but the coronation went smoothly.
I suppose the leaders of the free world are probably having their dessert.
- What are these for? - That was quite impressive.
Right under our noses, very smart. And we were very dumb.
I'd appreciate it if you were to tell me exactly what happened.
We were on the lookout when Tonnie suddenly left.
I followed him and he went into a bank with some other guys.
I tried to stop him, but he knocked me out.
Yes, well, Tonnie told me a very different story. Didn't you, Tonnie?
He knows exactly what happened. Don't you?
Do you know where the money is?
Tonnie just told me that you were the one who suddenly took off
to play bank robbers with your mates.
Who are your mates?
Bob Donkers is one of them, isn't he?
- So Tonnie killed the bank manager then? - Killed?
No, when I passed out, nobody was dead.
He's in a coma, a severed artery. A breath away from dying.
And the fact that you betrayed us to the squatters doesn't help you much either.
But until I've figured it out, you'll be guarded.
Who the hell are you really, Jurre from Urk?
Chief?
Tonnie.
What is it?
Sorry.
Taxi.
Jordaan.
- Here you go. - Thank you.
Make it 22.
Hang on, wait a second.
I think we're going for another drive.
Yes, stop here. Stop.
Seppe, it's good to see you.
Ton.
It's probably too much.
Well, how about you guys?
- What about us? - The coke.
- There is no coke. - Well, give it back then.
We've decided not to do business with you anymore.
Take it easy, everybody. Let's calm down.
What? Is this about Marcel?
Marcel was a junkie and hence a risk to send on errands.
First of all, I decide who runs my errands.
Secondly, Marcel may have been a junkie, but he was my friend, and family.
And that, Bob, brings us to our third point.
You don't touch my family.
How was I supposed to know he was family?
Listen, we must be able to solve this as gentlemen.
If we have to raise the price, that's not a problem for me.
See? We just need to talk to each other, Seppe.
All the squatters are locked up
so if you can't do business with me, with who can you?
What's the world coming to if even we don't have a moral code…
I'm sorry, but it was such a boring conversation.
It's a bit impolite, but we'd still be here in the morning. Right, Barrie?
And you don't mess with family.
I totally agree with that.
Five kilos a week for starters?
Fine. And Barrie here is all right.
But I'm not too sure about this retard.
I thought you were a cop.
- I am. - Yes, he is.
And coincidentally, he's also the last person to see Marcel alive.
It was his idea to dump Marcel in the canal dressed up as a squatter.
Wasn't it?
Fucking asshole.
Say hello to Marcel.
Man, oh man.
Goddammit.
It's all fucked up.
Jurre?
It was all for nothing.
Hey, buddy.
You used me in everything. You knew all along who Marcel was.
You were on top of everything.
It should never have come to this.
That business with the squatters and the attack was all part of Bob's smoke screen.
- How long have you been working for Bob? - I don't work for or with Bob.
For how long?
I work undercover to roll up this entire fucking operation.
Yeah, we all know that story, just like in the bank.
Keep that hand away from there.
Call an ambulance, I'm losing blood. A lot of it.
- Are you giving up on me? - I saw the whole thing. I'm not like you.
That's why I love you, buddy. You're not like the rest of them.
You're real. I can just picture it.
Pien and you.
Don't fucking sweet talk me.
You're a beautiful person, Jurre DeKok.
And hey, lesson number 13.
- Stop. - Lesson 13:
Unfortunately in our world, who you hang out with…
is who you get contaminated by.
I'm sorry.
No, no.
- Jurre? - No, no.
No. No, Tonnie.
They're on their way, they're on their way.
What a mess.
That bank manager of yours, he has come to. So…
Well done.
He said…
He said that he was working undercover.
That all the top brass knew about it.
That's not true, is it?
No.
Your firearm.
I want a brief police report and a statement.
Nothing complicated, okay?
I'll see you Monday morning.
Okay.
To Tonnie.
He fucking succeeded, after all.
- What? - In the saddle.
I always used to say: They'll have to push you into a grave when you're 120.
The fucking bastards.
Don't get me wrong, Tonnie had his share of mistakes.
If you steal a rich man's watch, that's one thing.
But you just don't shoot people.
I'll put it on a tab.
Always have money on you.
Lesson number one.