Layer Cake Page #6

They've got history.

Bad juju.

And, anyway, this Serbian maniac's

in hot pursuit.

If I sold them to you, I'd have to

disappoint him. And he is definitely...

I did you a big f***ing favor

letting you know about Jimmy.

I think you owe me.

Two and a half million in sterling and

euros, high-denomination used notes.

So if I gave you 3 million,

that would keep everyone happy.

Let me state my position.

You can sell these pills

to whoever you like.

That's your privilege.

That's your business.

But I'll tell you...

...I'll be very, very unhappy

if you don't sell them to me.

You understand?

Okay, Mr. Temple.

Three million. Done.

- My buyer's not gonna be happy.

- F*** him. He'll get over it.

I'm gonna need some help.

Someone who can eliminate the

problem. Someone who's a bit handy.

Whoa! Slow down, kidder.

Mr. Lucky does a drop

of freelance work.

I don't need to know.

It's none of my business.

You tell him when,

and he'll come down on the train.

Thanks, Trev.

Excuse me.

Mr. Temple.

You deliver them to my warehouse.

When do I get my consignment?

Monday. No, Tuesday, probably.

Tuesday? I'm paying

over the odds, remember?

England! Typical. Even drug dealers

don't work weekends.

That's good news.

That should cheer Gene up.

Yeah, everything's under control.

- Cody's been chasing his 10 grand.

- Yeah. I'll call him later.

- Hey, Geno, what's up?

- Got some good news.

Oh, yeah? What's that?

- You murdering bastard!

- Open the f***ing door!

- Stay out of this, Morty.

- Gene!

- Murder? Who's dead?

- Jimmy.

He killed him.

Blew his f***ing head away.

- Open the f***ing door!

- Why?

Open the f***ing door!

- Get off him.

- No, listen, listen. Just listen.

Listen to me, Morty. I got a call

from a cozzer we've got bent.

They found Jimmy's body last night.

In his own backyard.

It was this sly bastard.

He's no killer.

Somebody's made a mistake.

All right, look. Here. We'll see.

Read it. Read it out loud.

"To senior ranks only. Murder Squad

investigation. James Lionel Price."

Read the f***ing ballistics report.

"Preliminary ballistics report. No arms

recovered. Disintegrated on impact.

One recovered cartridge casing."

You forgot to take the cartridge case.

You got sloppy.

"...consistent with weapon used...

...in unsolved homicide of Lawrence

Gower a.k.a. Crazy Larry Flynn."

Wait. I got it. Whoever killed

Crazy Larry must've killed Jimmy.

No, no. The gun.

The f***ing gun was the same.

The one he stole from my flat.

- You killed Crazy Larry?

- So?

- This f***er killed Jimmy.

- Oh, Jesus Christ!

- Why did you do it?

- He was an informer.

He was a police informer!

Jimmy a grass?

Are you f***ing mad?

- You'll have to do better than that.

- I've got a recording at home.

Of Jimmy and a cozzer

called Albie Carter.

Gene, let's listen to this sh*t.

If he's lying,

we'll both f***ing kill him.

Mr. Mortimer reckons...

... the Tylers are bringing in shooters

from Jamaica via Manchester.

They got someone in Immigration

straightened out.

I don't think anybody gives a f***

about spades shooting spades.

Don't you care

about dead darkies, Albert?

What about Gene?

Does he suspect anything?

What? About me

working for the old firm?

Convinced?

You don't f*** about, do you?

Jimmy was skint, huh?

That's why he set up the whole

Amsterdam business with Duke.

I really think we should keep

all of this to ourselves, right?

Really?

Why did you kill Larry?

Funny enough,

it was Jimmy who persuaded me.

Jimmy never liked Larry.

Look at that wrong one waving

his money around. It ain't right.

Hey, I love you, man.

He saw the future was drugs and

it needed to be run like a business.

Crazy Larry

was no f***ing businessman.

After that business

with Kilburn Jerry...

That's it, son. You do him. Bollocks!

...he wanted him gone.

I didn't have any problem

doing him.

That's why I did it.

But why did you keep the gun?

Sounds silly now,

but it was me favorite.

I hope you don't tell the other guns

you've got favorites.

So, what's the next move, boss?

Well, I'm going to bed.

I don't know what you two are doing.

We can talk about it tomorrow.

Sorry?

Sorry, mate, what was that?

Would you pack that in?

I've got a f***ing test next week.

Okay. Okay, I'm sorry.

I was just saying...

So when does the target

get here, then?

The target? The target's gonna

be here at exactly midday.

- Where?

- Here, right f***ing here.

Got a photo?

- Don't worry about it.

- Who's worried?

I'll have some binoculars.

I'll give you a little signal.

I could get the 10 past 1

home from here.

Let's have a little recce.

After we do the business,

walk slowly back.

Remember, it's a stroll in the park.

Don't run, whatever you do.

The first 5 minutes,

nobody'll have a clue what's going on.

Hopefully, it'll be mayhem.

So try to stay relaxed.

Don't do anything

to draw attention to yourself.

Or me.

Afterwards, take me to

the Underground station.

I'll look after myself.

There.

Time?

Six minutes to 12.

I hope he's not gonna be late.

- Maybe he'll be early.

- That'd be nice.

Can you see that guy on the left?

- Big fella, marching up the hill.

- That's our man.

- Are you sure?

- For f***'s sake. I'm gonna call him.

It's up to you. You're the client.

As soon as he answers,

he's gone, okay?

Okey-dokey.

Stand by.

Now.

Hello, may I help you?

Don't move a muscle.

- Do I have your attention?

- Yes.

You English, you have no idea

of honor and respect.

I usually kill for less.

I want my cargo and the Duke.

I haven't got your pills.

Just give me a day.

Don't piss in my pocket

and tell me it's raining.

Now listen for the last time.

- You'll bring me what is mine.

- Look, I don't... Jesus!

You have one more day.

See you tomorrow at dusk

by the statue.

Remember, I will be watching you.

What the f*** were you thinking?

Getting Trevor's man down here

to shoot this Serb in a park!

Trevor's gonna go ballistic.

Now, what the f*** do I tell him?

- What a f***ing mess.

- You've gone mad.

- Think you're a gangster?

- F*** off!

You wanna play?

You do it somewhere else.

If you do it near me,

I'll put you in a f***ing wheelchair.

Stick to your f***ing sums.

Listen. Listen to me.

Dragan's killed Paul.

He's done the Duke.

He's just put a bullet

between Lucky's eyes. I was there!

He's watching our every move.

Who's next, me?

- I wish.

- F*** off! Could be you or Morty.

Dragan said he wanted the pills

and the Duke. Where's the Duke?

What?

I should've told you this earlier.

Duke and Slasher

came by the office the other day.

Paul the boatman was topped

last night.

I've gotta get on my toes sharpish.

I want Jimmy brought here

right now, yeah?

Getting that smug yuppie bastard to

tell Duke those pills were useless...

...after sending us over

in the first place.

Hang on, you've lost me now.

If you have us over, I swear by f***ing

almighty God, I'll call the f***ing law.

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