A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square Page #2

Chubb - six inch. Two combinations.

Do you have the numbers?

The numbers?! Haven't you seen them

locking and unlocking?

Christ! The manager

or operations guy does the left,

the head cashier or a foxy blonde

does the right - click, click.

Do they use reminders?

No, they've got it by heart.

Use your eyes.

Now, show me those keys.

Over here. Manager's desk.

Top drawer.

Do you know what all those are?

These are front doors upstairs.

I don't know.

Records? Foreign deposits?

Is there a gate

inside the vault door?

Yeah, they lock it in the day when

the vault's open. High security.

You want numbers? Take a look

at this one! We have work to do.

DISTANT DOOR OPENS

MAN:
Anyone for coffee?

WOMAN:
No, thanks.

DOOR CLOSES:

Security?

I don't think so. The next one

doesn't come around for a while.

DISTANT FOOTSTEPS

Computer staff? Gotta be.

Let's go upstairs.

Remember, I'M the specialist.

Hi, Phil. Hi, Pinky. Green,

you mentioned the computer room.

Oh, yeah. I forgot that one, sir.

Hello, Pinky.

Hi. Good evening.

Sorry to bother you.

BLEEPING You're right. If anything should

go wrong, this is where it'll happen.

Don't try to do anything, just call

me and I'll call response centre.

Good night. Thank you.

Good night. Bye. Bye.

Yes, it has all the signs

of the sweetest job ever.

But we've got to get those numbers.

Impossible.

Oh, you can get them. How?

Did you read that piece in the Sun -

about the fellow they put in cold storage?

Cold what? Cold storage.

In a slaughterhouse

off Smithfield Market.

They're a rough group.

He wouldn't cooperate, so they hung

him on a meat hook for a few days.

Big fellow, about your size.

Every now and then

they'd wet him down

and touch him up with an

electric cattle prod.

In the end he cooperated,

but it made ugly reading.

Very ugly.

Get the numbers, Pinky.

So, tell me? What? How's it going?

Great.

Some break, falling on your feet

like that. Yeah.

Ma kills me.

Position of trust, she calls it.

What's funny? She's right.

Tilt?!

DOOR RATTLES:

Hi, Pinky. I thought

I'd got the wrong address.

FAINT CLICKING:

Hello, Pinky. Overtime again?

You must be coining it, mate.

Didn't see you

at the football last week, Pinky.

Move your arse, Pinky.

Do you fancy Mohawk in the 3.30?

If you want to cash a cheque

you've got 14 hours. Cash a cheque?

I'm only here for the ride.

Ivan's downstairs with two experts.

In an ADVISORY capacity, he said.

Yeah, I've seen him.

Hey...what's with Ivan?

What's he trying to prove?

It's life, innit?

It's like horse racing. Study the form,

weigh up the odds, take your chance.

If you back a winner,

everyone says how clever you are.

If you back a wrong 'un,

they call you a mug.

Either way, once you start...

you get involved.

Yeah, you're in it. You take Ivan.

He's a thoroughbred.

I mean, he's got class.

Yeah. He's well-bred...

well-schooled - a cert winner.

How did he end up a crook?

He somehow ran off the track.

Can't take a straight course.

You've got these animals

crawling all over the place.

It's a goddamn zoo in that bank.

You have yourself to blame.

Me? When the sh*t hits the fan,

nobody's clean.

I mean, we're going to get caught.

Goons -

you can spot 'em a mile away.

If you'd got the numbers

we'd be in and out.

Definitely. Now it's another

class of caper. No doubt.

Stands to reason. Not having those

numbers alters the tone.

ALL:
Right.

Right.

How can I get the goddamn numbers?

I'm not a mind-reader.

It's out of the question. Then I

advise you to do yourself a favour.

A favour, yeah - like get lost.

Like what did you have in mind?

Like working more double time.

Like working late Friday and

Saturday. Why the hell...? Shut up!

Now, you find out exactly

when security clocks round.

Your change.

Why should a man be condemned

for his past?

So I've got a record as long

as my arm. So what? I can change.

I don't want to be with

those meatballs. Right? Right.

You make some honest bread

and you end up back in the slammer.

Are you OK, mate? It's the going

straight what does it. Hot dog, please.

Evening, Pinky.

Hi, Mac. You're early, aren't you?

Mayfair traffic on a Friday's a

bastard. I try to keep ahead of it.

Manager working late? Looks like it.

DISTANT DOOR OPENS

FOOTSTEPS:

CAN RATTLES:

PELHAM:
Would you like a sip?

MAN:
No, thank you, darling.

MAN:
Come on, darling,

that's enough.

FOOTSTEPS:

(Hey.) What?

(For Christ's sake, shut up.)

(I saw the manager drive off.)

Security man. He's making it.

What, with a bird? Yeah.

Hello.

Having a nice day off? Come round,

everybody - intelligence is here.

OK, Pinky, let's have your report.

On Friday night a

guard comes round

every two-and-a-half hours

- all weekend into Monday.

Quite certain?

You can set your watch by him.

11 o'clock Saturday night, 1.30

Sunday morning, then 4, then 6.30.

So from 11.15pm Saturday to 1.15am

Sunday we have 2 hours in the clear?

Right.

No security, no computer staff.

Very well. Next Saturday it is.

11.15 on the dot. Right?

ALL:
Right.

Let's get one thing straight -

no guns.

And let's get

another thing straight.

You don't give the orders, I do.

Guns will turn this job sour.

It'll mean 20 years minimum.

Things will not go wrong.

Another thing - I hear a lot

of talk about who's doing what.

Where do I come in? You don't.

Don't what? Come in. Oh, yeah?

You'll be far away - hammering.

Hammering what? Your alibi.

Over at City branch. Making sure they

know that you're working on double time.

HAMMERING:

HAMMERING:

What the hell's that?

Anyone know what's going on?

Wotcher, Pinky. Hey, what's

happening, Chris? Oh, not too much.

Why do you work this graveyard

shift? I dunno. Must be the money.

Huh...sure ain't the excitement.

Ha! See you.

HAMMERING CONTINUES

Who the hell is that?

SIREN WAILS:

TYRES SCREECH:

SIRENS:

OK.

Where are you going?

I work here.

Hold on.

OK.

SECURITY GUARD:
..10 or 10.50.

And at 11.02 last night...

Well, I did my usual check.

Everything was in order

when I left at 11.07.

This morning I arrived at 01.33

and I noticed the vending machine

had been forced open.

Is the manager here?

Right here.

I'm the manager. Dan Blakestone.

My boss would like to talk to you.

..Mr Stanfield?

Morgan Stanfield, Vice President.

Watford.

Why Coke?

To cool the bits. Oh.

They had an overheating problem.

Did they use a magnetic drill? Yeah.

Jesus, were they out of luck.

Power failure.

No juice, no magnetic hold.

Crash, bang, wallop -

drill falls on the floor.

Yeah, a professional job.

Looks like.

Who's this? Maintenance man.

Not much for you to maintain today.

What happened here?

When reclaiming the plug and cable,

they yanked off the whole fitting.

They didn't need to pull it.

I found a crack last week,

so I stuck it in with no screws.

Here's the new outlet.

There's the screws.

Without these,

the slightest tug from the vault

and the whole bloody lot

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