Fuck. Hang on.
Oh, fuck it's...
Shit. Give me your hand.
- It's higher than it looks. Be careful. - It's not that high.
Just be careful.
All right, Min. It's fine. It's not that hard.
It's just higher than it looks. Ready?
Hands off, Min.
Shit.
Ah, for fuck's sake.
What are you moaning about now?
- Fucking ripped my coat. - Huh?
I've ripped my coat completely.
- You okay? - Yeah, I'm fine. Why? You see anyone?
- No, can you? - No.
Taverner's voice mail.
In the car you said you'd tell me. So, what...
what did she mean about Charles's death?
Read the room, will you? Is now really the time?
Ah, it's Lamb.
Ah.
Ah, "Minuisa."
You've got a key?
Where the... where the fuck is Struan?
I told you to get Struan.
The Dogs got to him just before us.
- Did they see you? - Yo.
Cartwright?
Went to try and wake Sleeping Beauty.
Sid. She's in a coma and is a beauty.
Or was, till she got shot in the head.
Oh, Jesus, Ho.
Dog rolled up, so I split.
Ah... Uh, we gotta go.
Taverner will pick us off one by one.
Find someone to turn.
She and Black had a plan.
Now that's gone to shit, she'll try and play it
as Slough House gone rogue.
And what about the boy? What happens to Hassan?
If he's not dead already, he soon will be.
You're a fucking dickhead, Roddy.
I remember where I saw Alan Black.
He was meeting with Taverner.
All right, go... go back. What were they doing?
Talking at her gym café.
It came back to me when I saw Sid
because she took the piss out of me for following Taverner.
They were meeting secretly.
But it's your word against hers.
Yes, but I was following her for surveillance training.
So I took a photograph.
Well, do you have it?
No, not yet.
But I think I know where there might be a copy.
A copy?
- Oh, this is hopeless. - Ah.
Well, it would certainly seem that way.
Look.
I-I-I don't normally do these kind of speeches,
but this feels like a big moment,
and if it all turns to shit, I might not see any of you again.
You're fucking useless. The lot of you.
Working with you has been the lowest point in a disappointing career.
Right.
Cartwright, you're with me.
Wh... But wait, w... w... what do we do?
Well, try not to get caught for as long as you can.
My money's on about 30 minutes.
Well, we can try and save Hassan.
Oh, that'd be a sure way to get him killed.
Go lock yourselves in a toilet somewhere.
What a wanker.
- Where are we going? - To go and get that photo, you dickhead.
Back there, that's you goading them into action, right?
Fuck no. I meant every word.
Right. Just checking.
Oh, fucking Christ.
Police are still frantically searching
for the whereabouts of the hostage Hassan Ahmed,
whose kidnappers have threatened to behead him
at sunrise this morning around 6:30...
You hear that?
So they're still expecting us to do that thing that we're not...
we're not fucking doing.
Nothing about the dead spook.
Maybe they haven't found the body yet.
They'll have found the body. With you two screaming
like a pair of little girls, someone will have called it in.
You know why it's not on the news, right?
They wanna bury it. And us.
An MI5 agent involved in a kidnap plot.
They don't want people talking about that.
Nah. We are gonna die resisting arrest, boys.
So the way I see it is we may as well have some fun first.
Eh? Chop-chop.
Fucking hell.
- So what? - Just said that.
- So what? - Oh.
See any lights?
- Second floor, maybe. - Did you leave them on?
Uh, I don't remember.
- Well, think. - I don't know.
You were there too. Why didn't you check?
Because I've earned the right not to.
Well, it... it looks clear.
Doesn't mean to say the place isn't swarming with Dogs.
Or a clean-up team for the body or a trap?
Well, you better go in and find out.
Oh.
I'm going in alone, am I?
Every man for me, Cartwright.
Don't worry.
I'll... I'll be here, guarding the breach and all.
Thanks.
What is the latest we know about Hassan Ahmed?
Well, time really is of the essence now.
But we've had no further updates from either the Metropolitan Police
- or the security services... - Oh, that poor boy.
- ... with regards to the release... - How can you eat?
of Hassan Ahmed.
Relax. Dogs are nowhere near.
You hacked the Dogs' comms?
Snuck into their kennel, muzzled them bitches,
- stole their bones. - Oh, that's so wrong.
Whatever. They're outside our homes and waiting for us.
Waiting for us to use our phones and credit cards or passports.
So, we just hole up in here for the rest of our lives, do we?
Right. We're fucked then.
Can't track me.
I'm a digital ghost, so I'm fine.
Thanks for the team spirit, Ho.
You're forgetting Lamb.
Lamb doesn't care about us.
As soon as whatever he's got planned goes south, he's gonna forget us.
That's not true.
T-the thing Charles always said about Lamb...
Charles?
You hurt his joes, he'll never stop coming for you.
And the thing, for Lamb,
there's nothing worse than not being able to get even.
And he's not gonna wanna lose to Taverner.
- Exactly. - I think he's got even more contempt
for her than he does for us.
Wow, that's a skip-load of contempt.
And meanwhile, we what?
Can we talk about the ethics of this for a moment?
Because if they are going to behead Hassan at 6:30 a.m.,
as they say they are, are people really going to watch?
And if they do, are they not complicit?
Roddy, where are the Park on Hassan?
They've just narrowed it down
to ten vehicles that have left the area.
The one thing that we can bring to this is that we knew Alan Black,
so...
what do we remember about him?
He was sent to Slough House
for sleeping with the Venezuelan ambassador's wife while undercover.
Ap... Apart from that.
He moaned a lot. Never bought biscuits.
- Oh, my God. - Sorry, what? We're free-forming.
- There's no bad ideas here. - He was really lazy.
Oh, and that... that's better than what I said, is it?
Listen, he was undercover with the Sons of Albion,
so there would have been a birth certificate,
passport, credit cards, the full legend.
Mmm. Yeah. Deep cover's expensive.
He was tight, so he definitely wouldn't want to have to front that.
More than that. Taverner won't want any of it to show up on the books.
So he could have used an old ID.
Roddy?
If you'll give me a few minutes, ladies.
And gentleman.
Ladies.
And that's another "Ho-me" run.
Meet Dermot Radcliffe.
AKA Alan Black.
Legend for a football hooligan.
Ex-forces too.
That's catnip for British nationalists.
Let's see what Dermot's been up to recently.
Sorry, Jed. Lamb's idea.
- Lamb and Standish... - Have not been apprehended.
- Yes, I can see that. - Lamb pulled a gun.
You didn't frisk him?
It was in Standish's bag.
This is them?
Fingerprints match those at the Roupell Street house.
They all have priors. ABH, GBH, burglary.
- How we doing on the vehicles? - Still have eight to locate,
but they might be avoiding roads with CCTV.
They may have swapped vehicles.
We're following up on all reported vehicle thefts.
- Ma'am. - Not now.
Showtime.
We're running out of petrol.
No.
Oh, fuck off!
So what? Stop at the garage.
- We're covered in fucking blood. - Bit of a giveaway.
We'll end up on the CCTV.
Shouldn't have left the balaclavas behind.
- Ah. F... - Well, we can't make the boat
- without petrol, can we? - Just calm down. I've got a plan.
- Yeah? - We drive until we run out,
- and then we're gonna chop his head off. - Oh, f...
What the fuck is wrong with you?
- Yeah, let's just think about this. - We don't have options.
Yeah, we do. We have the option not to fucking do that.
And have all this for nothing?
While they set us up and make us look like twats and we don't even do
the thing that we said we were gonna do.
No, I can't have that.
We'll be a fucking joke.
People need to fear and respect us.
They need to know that we mean what we say when we say it.
Enough is enough, man. This is our country, and we want it...
Fucking shut up!
Whoa, whoa, whoa.
I've had enough. Okay?
- Where'd you get that? - On the guy whose head he cut off, eh?
He said he was a spy, but you didn't check his pockets, did ya?
And I'm the dumb one, aren't I?
You'd rather spill my British blood than his, then you're a traitor.
Yeah.
Get in the back. Check he's okay.
F... You're a fucking embarrassment, man.
I think he's being sick.
Yep. He's choking on his sick.
- Result. - Hey.
Pull over. Chop-chop.
Get out.
Go on.
I said get out, now.
Come on. Move it.
Just move it. Open the door.
Right. Lift him up.
And get that fucking tape off his face.
Ah, fuck.
Whoa. Okay.
Put something in his mouth.
In case he screams.
Why aren't you threatening him, you fucking pussy?
Oh, you told him you're not gonna kill him, didn't ya?
Don't fucking push me. Okay?
Don't!
No fuel. Nowhere to go.
What's the plan now, eh, Captain?
Eh?
We get some petrol, right?
We get to the boat...
- ... and we let the kid go. - Who's gonna get the petrol?
What?
Have you looked in the mirror?
Who's gonna get out of the van?
Ah, fuck it. Fuck it.
He is.
Got him. Like a rat in a trap
that I will kill with a hammer.
"Triple-D Car Hire." Leeds address.
Registration number?
That will take a while.
Get me a coffee.
I need fuel for this one.
An SQL injection attack will take hours,
which leaves a malware bomb as the most effective method,
but that needs someone to open an email, so...
Cheers, Standish. Double espresso.
I thought you could hack anything.
I can.
I'm not saying I can't do it. Just that it will take some time.
How much time do you need, Ho?
Because the kid's gonna get beheaded in about,
oh, two and a half hours.
I'll tell you what I can do real quick.
Check your search history and tell everyone what porn you look at.
Fine, 'cause I've got nothing to hide.
- Don't you fucking dare. - Hey.
- Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. - What's wrong with you?
You're eight years old.
- Pardon? - Where's my coffee?
I didn't get you a coffee. I got you the registration number.
DE15 CGK.
- What? How? - Well, I rang them up.
And said what? "Do you mind breaking multiple data protection laws?"
No, I said th-that I'd had an accident with one of their vehicles
and I had the driver's name, but because I was so shaken,
I couldn't read the registration number I'd written down.
I think the words you're looking for, Ho,
and these would be a first for you,
are, "Well done" and "Thank you."
It's on the list of vehicles the Park are looking for.
Then we need to get them to focus on that vehicle.
How do we let the Park know that without them tracking us?
Oh, my God. Min, a kid's life is at stake.
I know, but Lamb... Lamb told us not to get caught.
Can't we track it ourselves?
- Oi! Stop! - Stop!
Stop!
Stay in the vehicle.
Stay there.
- Move! Move! - Come on, let's go!
Move!
Go. Go. Go. Move.
Can you get out of the vehicle, please, Mr. Lamb?
No, no, no. I'm quite comfortable where I am.
These seats are lovely. And they're heated too.
- Step out of the vehicle now. - Nah, I'm... I'm... I'm okay where I am.
You go fetch your boss and tell him I've brought the car back,
but we need to go over the damage waiver.
You help us get petrol, you help us get to the boat,
and we will let you go. I swear.
Yeah? Okay.
Listen, be cool. Okay?
He's seen all our faces, man. He has got to go.
No! Listen. Why aren't you taking me seriously?
'Cause I'm the one with the fucking gun, remember?
He's got a point. Look, I don't like it either, but he's right.
Please, please. I'll say I never saw your faces
or I never heard your voices or I blanked it out from stress.
Oh, right now he'll say anything.
My uncle's got money.
Proving my point.
No, straight up. My uncle's rich.
Look, your exit plan, it... it might not work,
but my uncle, he can sort that.
He can help you. He can make something...
You little fucking lying rat!
Hey! Hey! Fucking stop it!
Your uncle.
Where is he?
Islamabad.
Where?
Pakistan.
What the fuck use is that to us?
- You get your money and you disappear. - This is such fucking bullshit.
- He's messing with ya. - Fucking stop it. I'm thinking, okay?
- That should take a while. - Hey.
Fucking don't. Okay? Don't.
It's gotta be worth a shot, yeah.
Yeah?
But you're coming on the boat too,
and you stay with us till we get the money.
Get out of the car.
What?
Get out of the car.
Is this a joke?
No, it's the Proclaimers.
Get out of the...
Nick, relax. I brought the car back.
You pulled a gun on me.
Uh, no, I delegated that. An... And any court of law
will tell you there's a difference.
And she didn't pull a gun on you. She pulled a gun on... on your boy.
Get out of the car.
Are you gonna shoot me?
- Not right now. - Yeah, well, what about one of your lads?
Hair triggers make natural scratching posts for itchy indexes.
They're not gonna do anything unless you do.
You got my word on that. Now get out of the fucking car.
All right. Good.
'Cause I was wanting a little word with Lady Di.
All right, ah.
Just reaching for a peashooter.
Here you go.
Park it downstairs.
I could... I could murder a coffee.
What's the canteen like in this gaff?
Dogs en route. Stand by.
What's your plan then, big man?
Hey, you get out. You fill up the van.
Nod, nod, nod.
You fill up the van, and we all get the fuck out of here.
Yes?
Oi.
Give him some money.
How do you know he won't do a runner?
Hey, listen, kid. You've got... You've gotta come back.
See that lady in the front filling up?
The one with the two kids in the car?
Hey!
Do you see that woman?
If you do anything wrong,
I'll walk round to the back of the van, and I'll get my axe out.
And I'll cut her kids' heads off in front of her.
Then I'll cut her head off, then yours.
And you know I'll do that, right?
Yeah.
Hey, kid. Don't fuck this up.
Diesel, yeah?
Knobhead. Keep your eye on him.
Excuse me. Hello.
- Oh, for fuck's sake. - No, no, no.
- Oh, fuck off. - I... I'm sorry, I... I... I need your help. Uh...
Can't get me, um... me petrol cap back on.
Maybe the attendant can help.
Oh, no. 'Cause he's stuck behind glass and, you know...
- What's she saying? - ... the only way I can get...
Fuck this.
I gotta get moving again soon.
But I'll, um...
But I'll, um... No, I'll... I'm... I'll work it out.
Hey, Mervin. Help the poor woman.
Hey, look, I'm sorry about him.
Think he'd be a lot happier. He's getting married in seven days.
It's a stag weekend.
Oh.
Oh, God. Sorry.
It's... It's just 'cause you, um...
You know, you look like that, uh...
You know, the... That...
- You know, the, um... The... The fell... - Oh, yeah. Yeah, I know. The...
- The Pakistani boy that was kidnapped. - Yeah.
Yeah, I get it.
- Had it all bloody day. - Oh.
But I suppose we all just look the same to you people, right?
No. No, I wasn't... I wasn't... I... It's
just 'cause... I was thinking...
Oh, hey, uh... I was just joking.
- Oh. - Yeah.
Sorry.
How about I look at that cap for you, yeah?
Yeah, that'd be, um... Yeah, thank you.
Hey. Knock that off now.
I'm sorry they're up.
- It's all right. It's not your fault. - Nah, nah!
Oh, that's really stuck in there, isn't it?
There you go.
- Hey, thank you. Have a good wedding. - Huh?
Oh. Yeah, thanks.
Just gotta get through a weekend with these miserable morons first.
Go and pay the man.
Hey, thank you again, love.
Hi...
She's leaving.
There's nothing to stop him from running.
Shit. Look at the TV.
Um...
Excuse me.
Um... Um...
For fuck's sake.
Pump number?
Uh...
Pump number?
Pump number one.
It's 94.60.
Keep the change.
Really?
Thanks, buddy.
Go on. Go on, get in.
Shut the door.
Good job, kid.
- Good job. - Did you get any change?
I gave him a tip.
Thank you, Nick. You can leave us now.
Three sugars. There's a love.
Alan Black's body's been found.
Alan Black?
Ah, it rings a bell.
Ex-Slow Horse. Your man.
Clearly involved in the kidnapping of Hassan Ahmed.
But you see, I remember a conversation we had
on a bench earlier this evening,
where you told me you had a guy on the inside
who had set the whole thing up. So not my man.
I have a statement from someone who saw you and Black
meeting after he'd left Slough House.
Struan Loy? Bless.
You think his word stacks up against mine?
There'll be others.
Standish will show.
And she'll turn when she knows why you're at Slough House.
And Moody, dead
after committing murder himself.
Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you knew.
Sid Baker's gone.
I'm gonna make you an offer, Jackson.
I'm sure.
I mean, obviously you have to have this all wrapped up
before Tearney lands, and I can blow the whistle on you.
You don't have a whistle.
All you have is a CV littered with dead joes.
Well, I'm not sure your career will survive the death of Hassan Ahmed.
But anyway, make your pitch.
I'm sure you've got some sweetener
to help me neck this absolute bullshit.
Sign a statement that tallies with Loy's, and that'll be the end of it.
Oh, you mean the end of me.
You'd be fired, but no charges.
And enough of a pension to keep you in single malts.
A heavily redacted file will state that you were thinking out loud
and Black went rogue.
When's Tearney get back?
I mean, I would... I'd love to run all this by her.
Or we can sit here and watch the Slow Horses
walk in one by one and accept a job back here at the Park,
while you fester in the basement
until this is all cleared up, which I can make last a very long time.
And if you get lonely, I can always send Standish down.
The treason charge against her will be resurrected,
and this time I can make it stick.
Oh.
Oh, I think I might have been bitten at the canal.
Oh.
Well, it sounds like a wonderful deal.
And hats off to you.
You really got me boxed in.
- So print off a statement. - Give me a pen.
Fuck, I've just remembered.
Yeah, uh, there... there was something I meant to tell you
as soon as I walked in.
The car that... that I returned.
The one that's now parked in the basement.
It's got a bomb in the boot.
Fuck's sake.
Fucking Lamb.
What's he playing at?
Shit. Secure the building!
Search it floor by floor! We've got an intruder!
Door!
Now, tell me where the file is, please.
Wh... What file? What are you even saying?
Stop pissing around. You know exactly what I mean.
Whatever it is you think I have, I... I don't.
Can you just put that thing down, then we can...
- Which one's the photograph in? - What... What photograph?
Taverner wanted me out because she knew I took a photograph
- of her and Alan Black. - I don't know what you're talking about,
but she had plenty of reasons to want rid of you, mate.
Oh, you mean Stansted?
Exactly. That's why you're out.
I know what she did. She got you to fuck me over at Stansted
because she'd have an excuse to get rid of me.
It was your fiasco.
Now, I'm pretty sure that she'll have asked you
to destroy that photograph.
And I'm even more sure that you'll have kept a copy for insurance.
So tell me where they are,
and then I won't shoot you straight in the face.
Sorry, mate. You lost me.
Tell me where it is.
Hey!
Come on, come on, come on.
Black.
Black, Black, Black, Black, Black, Black, Black, Black.
Come on. Come on.
Come on.
No.
All teams. All teams. Evacuate workstations.
Please start approaching a secure area with passes and ID.
This is a 1470...
- Move! Move! - Come on! Let's go!
All right, everybody out this way!
Stansted.
- Move! Get out! - Move! Move! Move! This way!
Move!
Stansted. Stansted, Stansted, Stansted, Stansted.
Motherf... Fiasco.
Yeah.
- Clear. - Move.
We're evacuating this area.
Move!
- Move, move, move. - Out, out, out!
- Coming through! - Clear out!
Out of the way!
All clear! Out! Out!
- Move! - Move!
Webb, we have a code 1470!
- Down! - Down! On the floor.
extremely worrying,
and added to the investigation...
This is yours, I believe.
Oh, yeah. Must have forgot to attach the bomb part.
Duffy and his men are sweeping the building as we speak.
I assume it was Cartwright you smuggled in.
Nah, I thought it was helpful to test your security.
I've got bad news. Your guys are not very good.
Put him in the basement, next to Loy.
You got the gist of that.
Yeah. Well, if my guys were as good as your guys...
they'd be your guys.
Now that little interlude is over, perhaps you'd like to sign this.
Before I do that, I just got one question.
Who the fuck have you just sent to the basement?
Ma'am.
- Good? - Yeah.
Oh, no. I wouldn't do that, ma'am.
Fiasco.
In three seconds, I could have a dozen guns pointed at your heads.
Yeah, but you won't do that.
Because you don't want anyone to see these.
Here, look.
There's you, and there's Alan Black.
Huh? Remember setting up the thing you're accusing me of?
Kidnapping Hassan Ahmed in a false flag operation
so you could rescue him, look good and score some points.
You did tell me all that earlier, but this is evidence.
Yeah, I've put your name in. If you'd just initial the changes.
Sign at the bottom.
I met with an ex-agent. That means nothing.
Oh, you won't mind if we, uh, send this to Tearney then?
- And everyone else at the Park. - And Hobden, while we're at it.
No, no. Hobden's a kook. Send it to all the news desks.
- News desks. - What do you want?
I want that kid found alive.
And you think I don't?
I think your attention's been split between finding him and burning me.
There are three possible vehicles. We have lost track of all of them.
We are doing everything we can.
There's something more you could do.
Cartwright got Hobden's phone.
It turns out there's a certain someone he called when it all went to shit.
Maybe you should pay that someone a visit.
Hey, this deal with your uncle, how much money we talking?
Well, name your price.
What is he? A billionaire?
No, he... he's got businesses and... and lots of investments. Lots.
Oh, yeah? Well, how come he never helped you out before?
You was living in a right shitheap back in Leeds.
He... He said he wanted me to make my own way, like... like he did.
But he wouldn't want me hurt.
He wouldn't want me hurt.
Hey, listen. Listen, why would he lie?
Like you said, he better not be bullshitting.
Because if there is no uncle and there is no money,
- we're gonna find out, you know? - The money will be there, I swear.
Okay? I promise it's there. My uncle...
Yeah, all right, all right. All right!
Jesus.
Look, he did well at the petrol station.
You did.
So I'll give him the benefit of the doubt.
He can come with us.
But only if he makes me laugh.
If he fucking what?
He's a comedian, isn't he?
Well, I say "comedian." He's never had the balls to go on stage.
Come on, now!
This is your big chance. You wanna come with us, don't ya?
- Roast us like on Comedy Central. - Make us laugh.
- Go on! - Um...
- Waiting. - Okay, okay. Uh...
Um...
So you're the Sons of Albion, huh?
Just a hunch,
but is Albion married to his first cousin?
That's just fucking rude.
That's the point. It's insults.
Go on.
"The Sons of Albion."
Because "Unfuckable White Men with Daddy Issues"
doesn't quite fit on a neck tattoo, does it?
Dear me.
Oh.
I guess you got what you wanted.
A Muslim bombing.
Now, that's good.
That is good. More.
The Sons of Albion:
Saving Great Britain from the infidels Monday to Thursday,
but can't resist a good curry on a Friday night.
He's talking about us!
You know... Uh, you know there's 1.8 billion Muslims in the world?
- Yeah? - He's on a roll.
You're gonna need a bigger van, mate.
Hey, do him. Do him.
- Go on. Go on. - Look at him.
If he was any more inbred, he'd be a sandwich.
Another one! Another one! This guy! Another one!
And this one, he's so dumb, he's got a note in his underpants:
"Wipe arse. Use paper."
Hey!
You're fucking funny!
He's laughing now! He's laughing...
God!
He's laughing now? He's laughing!
Ah, fuck!
Whew!
Now that's fucking funny.
- Synced and corrected by chamallow - - www.addic7ed.com -