Inside the Bank Job Page #7

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You want box 118, Tim.

You have no idea of the danger

you and your chums are in, do you?

Is that right?

And what would that be?

You've opened Pandora's box,

you dumb prick, that's why.

I know what's at stake.

And I know how expendable we are.

Some change in the deal.

- Oh, is that right?

- Yeah...

You'll get all your nasty pictures,

but here's the twist:

We'll get indemnity, fresh passports,

safe passage out of the country.

For the whole team.

And an officially signed document

guaranteeing we won't be prosecuted

and we won't be pursued.

You can't be serious?

You can bet your bollocks I'm serious.

I want it signed and delivered

by a public figure

of substantial authority.

How about the Prime Minister?

Yeah, he'll do, if you

can drag him off his yacht.

You mess with us, Tim...

We can drip-feed pictures like this

to the press.

We've got a stack of 'em.

Oh, do you?

You've got until 4pm to confirm

that we have a deal.

We'll be in touch.

Some photographs.

Well done, Tim!

Do you have any more?

Apparently there is a whole rose gallery

stored in one of those boxes.

If Lord Drysdale is up to his usual

hanky-panky (strange sex life),

that's his problem.

This operation is about recovering

the photos from Michael X.

Might it not be prudent

to get the committee

to consider issuing a "D notice"?

(defence notice to

protect national secrets)

To protect everyone potentially

embarrassed by this

criminal activity.

...Which we instigated.

Very nice.

Very nice indeed.

When I came out there were a

couple of lads taking some photos.

Buddies of him.

He was standing right outside the bank

just a few days before it was robbed.

I thought at the time

he looked a bit shifty.

Christ, is that thing real?

I've got it.

Dave Shilling.

That's his name.

Tada (take care), mom.

Look after yourself, son.

Go, get yourself inside.

You'll catch your death.

- Dave Shilling?

- Yeah?

I wonder if we could have a word.

- About what?

- About a bank.

I want to tell you something,

Mr. Shilling,

because it will save time.

You see,

I have a very jaundiced (bitter)

view of life.

From what I see, most of it

is corrupt, venal and vile.

And I am just saying this

so that you know

that I don't have a

better nature to appeal to,

or a compassionate streak.

I mean, you do understand, don't you?

I think so, Mr. Vogel.

Good.

I have a kidney stone,

that does not seem to be able

to pass without painkillers.

I could use a couple of those myself.

You stole from me

and from friends of mine.

- Where is my stuff?

- I don't know.

Look, I don't know anything about

any bank robbery. Honest.

You're still an unconvincing actor,

Mr. Shilling.

I would love to say

this is not going to hurt,

but it is.

What are you going to do?

Please, no!

No.

Stop. Please.

No.

- Well, they were here.

- What are you gonna do?

Why is the door open?

Who are you?

I could ask the same thing.

You better run along, eh?

Get yourselves a

cup of tea or something.

We are looking for Terry Leather.

Terry said he would not

be coming in this week.

He is supposed to call in.

- So you would be Eddie, right?

- Uh, yeah?

Well, you're coming with me!

What are you doing?

Leave him alone!

What are you going

to do with my Eddie?

- Just relax.

- Leave her alone!

We want to talk to him

about a bank robbery.

Don't you touch her!

If you want to see your Eddie

or his mate Dave again,

make sure Terry Leather

calls that number.

Walkie-talkie gang

takes it all.

Read all about it.

Walkie-talkie gang

takes it all...

- That's great news. Over.

- We're taking a break.

We need to get some sleep.

Getting a shut-eye. I want

the fumes cleared out. Over.

Lucky you.

My eyes are like...

Mommy? Daddy is on the radio.

Don't be so silly, darling.

He is!

Is he?

I want a warm bath and a cup of tea.

Over.

You'll get your cup of tea.

Just your odd time. Over.

See?

It is daddy.

Authorities have released this

recording of the walkie-talkie

communications between the robbers

of Lloyds Bank in Marylebone

in the hopes that their voices

may be identified by members

of the public...

Hello?

Wendy?

We heard you on the radio, Terry.

You are famous, you know?

You robbed that bank, didn't you?

The one on the news.

Oh God, you could go to jail for years

for something like that, Terry.

I couldn't stand it.

No one is going to jail.

I've got everyone under control.

Just stay put.

Keep the kids inside.

I love you, Wendy.

I gotta go.

You be careful, Terry.

What's the matter, mom?

Nothing, darling.

- Terry, they took Eddie.

- Oh God. Who?

They didn't have fleece (uniform) on.

I don't know, they could have been cops.

They left a phone number for you.

They said, if I want to see

Dave or Eddie again,

then you'll have to call.

Listen to me, I swear to you

we'll get them back.

Don't you worry, darling.

Have you got a pen?

Yeah.

- 0-1-9-4-6.

- Hold on, say it again.

0-1-9-4-6.

- Yeah.

Michael?

It's Lew Vogel. Yes.

Well, we've identified the villains.

Believe it or not, they're

amateurs. Part-timers.

They were put up to the job by

a woman named Martine Love.

- Ring a bell?

- Never heard of her.

Well, we paid a visit to her flat,

and some chaps from MI-5

were already there.

Pulled rank on my

tame copper.

Why do you suppose these

people would be interested

in the robbery of a minor

neighbourhood bank, Michael?

- I don't know.

- I think you do.

And I'm guessing that

your box is number 118?

I think what these robbers were

really after were photographs.

Photographs of a certain Royal Princess.

How do you know that?

Because on this point,

I believe my captive.

No man could withstand the pain

we inflicted on him.

So don't take me for a fool, Michael!

You've instigated this calamity

by storing your blackmail

materials in this bank.

Which you recommended.

I will not be lectured by the

porn king of Soho.

Get my pictures back,

or you will never see a black man

on the streets of London

without wondering if he's been sent

to kill you!

What are you doing?

Oh, hello Michael. Hakim was

looking for a copy of his book.

I know what you've been looking for.

You won't find it.

What are you talking about?

Hakim, I found your book.

You don't understand.

My box and those of my friends

may have been rifled.

Surely you can pull some strings.

You're a minister in the

government, for God's sake!

Sonia, I really don't think

I am able to help here.

Perhaps you don't fully comprehend.

I have photographs,

compromising photographs,

live filmed of you,

Miles Urquhart, all my regulars,

in this safe deposit box.

You all know each other if

that's any consolation.

You've got photographs of me?

You conniving c*nt!

(conspiring)

You be a big boy.

Now is the time to talk

to your White Hall chums,

don't you think?

That's him.

Sure that's him.

Guy Arthur Singer,

con man and petty criminal.

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