Pennyworth (2019–…): Season 3, Episode 4 - Silver Birch - full transcript
Hey, hey. Uh, I
need to see my wife.
I need to know if
she's okay. Please!
Stop! Please!
- Morning, sleepyhead.
- What are you doing
awake so early?
- I have a photo
shoot this morning.
- Hmm.
Course you do.
You're a big star.
Come back to bed.
- No. No time for that.
Got hair and makeup
coming any minute.
- Hmm.
It's amazing, what
you've done, Sand.
- Mm.
Well, Dad takes all the credit.
- Course he does.
But this is all
you, you know that.
- They'll be here soon.
- You don't need them.
You're already gorgeous.
- Mm.
Morning, Sandra!
- There she is.
- You look gorgeous.
- Do you know what you're
wearing today, darling?
- No, I don't.
- No?
- What do you think?
- I love it.
I love it.
- Ooh.
- Yeah?
- Yeah, these are perfect.
I would say maybe red lipstick?
What do you think?
- The red lip.
- The red lip, I think, yeah.
No, this is perfect.
Did you see? You're on
the front page again.
- Oh, my God.
- Terrible what happened,
but look at you, darling.
- Right, I'll be off, then.
- All right, bye, Alfie.
I look tired.
No.
- All right, mate.
- All right, Alfie.
- Thank you.
Cheers.
- Morning.
This looks much better.
- Oh, thank you.
Mr. Pennyworth,
I've had a few calls
from your mother already.
Apparently there's
been some trouble
at the Wayne house.
- What kind of trouble?
- I don't know.
But she said you have
to call her right away.
Ah, good morning, sir.
- Good morning, I'm looking
for Alfred Pennyworth.
- You found him.
- My name is Patrick Wayne.
I understand you know my family.
- Yeah, that's right.
What can I do for
you, Mr. Wayne?
- My son tried and
failed to kill his wife.
- What? He never.
- Hard to believe, I
know, but, sadly, true.
He's been locked up in
the Tower of London.
I need you to break him out.
He was taken straight
to the Tower,
and there's been
no contact since.
- I presume you've
tried the legal route.
- Our lawyers are
getting nowhere.
I need to know Thomas is safe.
- And Martha?
- She's in surgery.
A tragedy, but nothing
we can do for now.
There'll be a plane waiting
to take Thomas back to Gotham.
He'll ride it out there
until we get to
the bottom of this.
- There's a chance all of
this will get worked out.
The authorities tend
to look favorably
on families like yours.
And I expect there's
mitigating circumstances,
as they say.
I have a sneaking
suspicion he was drugged.
- Why do you say that?
- Wild guess.
Was he?
- Who knows what happened?
I'm not taking the chance
of having my son rot
in an English jail cell.
I need him out tonight.
- Well, I'm sorry.
I can't help you.
- Is the Tower that tough?
- No, getting him out
would be a doddle.
It's what happens after.
I'd be hanging
myself, wouldn't I?
Rozzers chasing me
the rest of my life.
- Name your price.
- Mate, I wouldn't do
it for a million quid.
- Really?
'Cause that's a
reasonable price.
- Get out.
- I'm serious.
- A million pounds sterling?
- I'm an extremely wealthy
man, and I love my son.
That's £10,000.
An advance.
My son seemed to think
that for the right price,
there's nothing you can't do.
Was he wrong?
I'll look into it.
See if there's a way.
No promises.
- Thank you, Mr. Pennyworth.
You have my family's gratitude.
- Is that Mummy?
- You finish your milk,
there's a good girl.
Hello.
- Mum.
It's me.
- I heard about what
happened. Are you all right?
- Oh, Alfie, it was awful.
He nearly killed her.
- Are you okay?
- Yeah, I'm fine.
I've got Samantha here with me.
Poor Martha's in hospital.
It's touch and go, they say.
He was not right, Alfie.
Something happened to him,
like he was possessed.
I had to bash him over the head
to make him stop.
- Well, you done him
a favor. And Martha.
- Well, I forgot me head scarf.
I had to go back for it.
I dread to think what would
have happened if I... well...
- What was he like
before you left?
- Fine, nothing out
of the ordinary.
He was just making
dinner, God love him.
- No idea what set him off?
- No.
But he was not himself.
- Hmm.
- I suppose I shouldn't ask
where you were last night.
- Not now, Mum.
What do you know about his dad?
- Not much.
Bit uppity.
He's got a younger girlfriend.
She's a right madam.
Asked me to dry
clean her delicates,
can you believe it?
- Listen.
The CIA are involved in this,
and I'm not sure what they want,
but you need to keep an eye out.
You still got that Beretta?
- Well, I don't like
it, but yes, I do.
- Good. Don't
take any chances.
You call the office if
there's any trouble.
- All right, love.
You take good care.
- I'll be around later.
- Did I hear the
Tower... of London?
- Piece of cake.
The Tower's hardly
even a real prison.
More for show.
- Yeah.
So imagine the embarrassment
to the Crown if you do this
and the inevitable
repercussions.
- Tempest in a teapot.
I'm talking about a
million quid here.
- But do you trust him?
- No, of course not.
But we don't need to trust
him to take his money.
And there's several more of them
once Thomas is
safely on a plane.
- Still... the
Tower of London.
- Stop saying that.
We have made it, Chadley.
We've finally made it.
The world's our oyster.
Now, I'm gonna go see
Aziz and see if I can't
make this easy.
And where the fuck's Daveboy?
Oh, fuck.
- Stealing away
before I'm awake?
Terrible.
- I'm just trying to
get out of your hair.
- That was a wild night.
- Aye, it was that.
- Is there somewhere
you'd rather be?
- No, just... Just
work, you know?
- I thought you said
you were in the army.
- I was. Private sector now.
- Oh.
I rather liked the
idea of you in uniform.
So what do you do, then?
- Pennyworth Security.
Missing persons, bodyguarding.
The government
throws us a few jobs.
- Do you ever meet any P-dubs?
Aye.
Too many of the bastards.
- Have you met Captain Blighty?
- Aye. Aye, you
could say that.
- Oh, he sort of scares me.
- Mm, good reason.
He was a mad bastard
before the enhancements.
- There's a party tonight
at the gallery I work at.
Do you want to come?
I'd love you to meet my friends.
- A gallery?
- Yes, well, it's an
intimate gathering
before the art
show this weekend.
It'll be amazing.
It's a multimedia
critique of the normative.
It's an exploration in expanding
the bounds of the
British psyche.
Get tae fuck.
Well, of course
I'll... I'll come if...
If you want me to, obviously.
Always been interested
in the British psyche.
Wonderful.
It's Green Street,
next to the cobbler's.
Starts at 9:00.
- Right.
I can't wait.
I'll see you there.
- Mm, can't wait.
- Turned out really well.
- Can I?
- Go on, then.
Now, you stay right
just there. Okay, love?
Oh, bloody hell.
- Good morning.
- Who are you?
- I'm Roger.
Roger Hammond?
- What do you want? I'm
not buying anything.
- No. No, I'm here for you.
Divorcé?
I enjoy bird-watching?
I have a Yorkshire terrier?
From the Lonely Hearts.
- Oh, yeah.
I remember now.
- Yeah.
- Just a minute.
Right.
I'm sorry, Roger,
but I'm not doing that
sort of thing anymore.
Full of perverts,
in my limited experience.
- Oh.
Right. That's disappointing.
I've come from Plumstead.
- Oh, that is a long way.
- Two buses.
- I meant to cancel, but...
I've had me hands
full over here.
I don't...
- Hello.
- Oh, hello.
Sorry for disturbing
your mum here.
Mum?
Get away.
I'm her nanny.
Well, you're welcome to come in
and have a cup of tea, Roger,
use the facilities before
you make your way back home.
- I wouldn't want to impose.
- No. Come in, come in.
Oh, thank you.
- Yeah.
- Please.
Can you find a vase?
Well done, darling.
Alfred, good morning.
- Busy round here today.
- Yes, I'm afraid
everyone's rather distracted
with the Commonwealth Summit.
Preparing to welcome the
great independent nations
of the British Empire.
- Sounds like they want
a bit more independence.
- Can't say I blame them.
What can I do for you?
- Any update on Mrs. Wayne?
- She's in surgery.
No news as of yet.
- You know, I bumped into
her the day before yesterday.
- Is that so?
- At the Inner Peace Ashram.
Martha seemed to
think that the CIA
were testing a new drug there.
This drug was given
to Jessica Thistle,
and she murdered her parents.
Stands to reason the same
thing happened to Thomas.
- Martha tried to
contact me yesterday.
- Any chance of talking to him?
- Why? What's your
particular interest?
- Well, just a
concerned citizen.
- Hmm! How very noble of you.
But pointless, I'm afraid.
He claims he has no
memory of the incident.
- He's telling the truth.
You know he's innocent.
- Well, strictly speaking,
he's as guilty as sin.
Besides, the CIA evidently
wanted Thomas in jail,
so that's where he's
staying for now.
- They also wanted Martha dead.
- Indeed, so she knows
something important.
I'd like to find
out what that is
before further
provoking the Americans
ahead of a global summit.
- Well, yeah, but...
- Stay out of this.
Now is not the time
for you to be meddling
with international
relations, is that clear?
- Say no more.
- Good.
Thomas may not have
done this deliberately,
but he did do it.
The Tower is the
safest place for him,
for his sake and ours.
Mm.
- Good morning,
Whitehall switchboard.
How may I connect you?
- Yes, I'm trying to
reach Mrs. Martha Wayne.
But I-I keep being...
- Mrs. Wayne is
not available, sir.
Sorry, goodbye.
- Well...
Hello.
- Hello, Dr. Glubb.
How nice to speak
to you at last.
- Who is this?
- I am the answer
to all your prayers.
- How did you find me?
- Just be glad I did.
Shall we meet to
discuss business?
- Who are you?
- Does it matter?
I'm not the CIA, if that's
what you're worried about.
How much longer do you think
you'll be able to
hide from them?
They are so vicious and clever.
- Where shall we meet?
- Cheers.
Well, fuck me.
I do not believe that.
Thank God for Mrs. P, yeah?
- Indeed.
- Mmm.
- You're in last
night's clothes again.
You know, I've said this before,
we should all present
good business decorum.
- Hmm. Oh.
I went home with a bird
from the funeral last night.
Hmm? A real smasher.
Posh as fuck.
Proper nice.
- Goodness.
Well, congratulations.
- Nah, I don't know.
There's got to be
a catch somewhere.
She's invited me to something
at a fucking art
gallery, for fuck's sake,
to meet her fancy friends.
- Why would she want that?
- Exactly.
Why?
- I cannot fathom.
But in future,
please keep some spare
clothes in the office.
Mr. Pennyworth.
- Morning.
- Morning. No luck with Aziz.
He wants to keep
Thomas Wayne locked up.
- Well, that makes sense
after Jessica Thistle.
- Mm.
- We don't know for sure yet
that they're connected.
- Fuck off.
Of course we do.
Thomas Wayne hasn't the
balls to stab his wife.
It was yon CIA.
- Why is the CIA
setting up Thomas Wayne?
- Thomas was the
weapon, not the target.
Martha knew something,
something more than we do,
else we'd be on the wrong
end of the kitchen knife.
So we're still
going in. Tonight.
- Where?
- The Tower.
We're getting him out.
- Are you fucking joking?
This is not our fight.
Huh, the CIA? The Tower? Nah.
No, that's deep, dark
water you're wading into.
- His dad's paying
us a million quid.
- A million?
What, a million pounds?
- Sweet, eh?
- I don't know.
That seems too good to
be true, doesn't it?
No one gets a million pounds.
There's got to be a catch.
- Daveboy, do I
really have to say it?
- No, I know, I know.
Who dares fucking wins.
But, Alfie, a million quid?
- Call Lucius, we're gonna
need him for this one.
- Right away.
- Hey, hold on a wee minute.
We've been sitting here
for ten fucking minutes
eating pink wafers,
and you never thought
to tell me that we were breaking
into the Tower of
fucking London?
Fuck.
- Can you believe it?
He actually asked me...
- Do you know, I can't
tell you what he asked me.
But they weren't the
words of a gentleman,
I can promise you that.
So I decided I'm not
doing that anymore.
You never know who's on
there or where they've been.
- Goodness.
I'm sorry you had such
an awful experience.
- I just wanted
to meet a nice man
and spend time with him.
Maybe do a bit of dancing.
I used to love dancing.
Do you dance?
- Uh, no.
Two left feet, I'm afraid.
- Well, you seem like
a nice normal fella.
What are you doing
on Lonely Hearts?
- Well...
My wife left me.
- Terrible business, terrible.
- She ran off with
Clive Vickery, actually.
- Clive Vickery of
"Good Day Britain"?
Oh.
I do actually remember
hearing about that.
- Yes.
Most people did.
Whole thing was...
very embarrassing.
- That's my husband.
God rest his soul.
Arthur.
- Is... but he...
The prime minister.
And almost the queen.
- He got mixed up in
a lot of nonsense.
But he wasn't all bad.
You should know that.
Died twice, you know.
- I'm sorry?
- So what I'm saying is,
you've no need to
be embarrassed.
Not in front of me, anyway.
- Well, no.
Indeed.
- You know, I never
trusted Clive Vickery.
His eyes are too close together.
Please, I'm begging you.
I need to know if
my wife's alive.
I need to know if she...
I need to know if she's okay.
- Yes, uh-huh.
- Okay, now, I need
all of this back,
so don't leave anything behind.
- What the fuck is that?
- This here is a
lock-picking device.
- Hmm.
- Once securely fastened
to the keyhole...
Press this lever,
and the door should
unlock within ten seconds.
- Yes, miss, I'll hold.
- Should?
For fuck's sake.
Does it work, or does it not?
- I don't need to be here.
You know?
In fact, I shouldn't be here.
- No, we're very grateful
that you are here.
Shut up, Daveboy.
- Now, you may not know this,
but I'm quite an
avid mountaineer.
And I've been toying
with several ideas
in that regard.
Now, I'll explain...
- Grappling hook gun, is it?
Give her here.
- Uh, yes,
that's... that's
exactly what that is.
How it works...
- You shoot it at your target,
flick the switch on the
side, and away you go.
- Yes.
- Think I got it.
- Well, you've got a second
one of them somewhere?
Well, how do I get
up the bleeding wall?
- When Alfie gets there,
he'll throw down a rope.
You climb up.
- Oh, that's fucking perfect.
Fantastic.
- Now, I must emphasize
these are prototypes.
I've only conducted
limited testing,
some more successful
than others.
- Are you fucking hearing this?
- It'll be fine.
- Mm-hmm.
Thank you, madam.
Thankfully Mrs. Wayne is safe.
Out of surgery and doing well.
- How's that for a sign?
Boots on, Daveboy.
- Aye.
Shit.
Fuck.
Fuck!
So, eh, this Sally girl.
- Yeah.
- She...
She asked me to call her names.
You know, in bed. Dirty names.
- Did she?
- Do you think that's normal?
- Happens.
- So I called her
a bastard wee hun.
Seemed to do the trick.
Bloody hell, it worked.
- So do you think
that's all right?
- I'd love to stay and
chat about your love life,
but we should crack on, eh?
Now, if I just flip this...
Whoa!
- Of course.
I'm the one that's got
to climb the bastard.
- Can we turn this off, please?
- It's best to try and
relax on these kind of jobs.
Makes them go faster.
- I can see no reason
at all for relaxation.
Fuck's sake.
Not a fucking word.
- Ugh.
Watch it, mate.
Now, this is a pickle.
- Alfie.
- All right, let's not
alert the whole Tower.
- How's Martha? Is
she okay? Do you know?
- She's alive. She's
gonna be all right.
Thank God.
And Samantha?
- She's fine.
She's with Mum.
Now, stand back.
We'll have you out
of here in a jiffy.
- Uh, okay.
- All ready? Here
goes nothing.
I fucking knew it.
We should have brought
a bloody blowtorch.
Fuck.
Fuck me.
- I didn't do what
they're saying I did.
I was drugged. I
would never hurt her.
- I know that.
Now, if you don't mind,
your dad's paid us
good money to get
you out of here.
- My father came to you?
- Yeah.
Now, give us your hands.
- What's happening?
- We're prisoners,
and Daveboy's escorting
us out of here.
- You hang in there, mate.
- Every bleedin' night...
Hold on.
- Oh, dear.
- It's okay. What's plan B?
- Plan B, sir?
- Plan B,
for when plan A goes
completely fucking haywire!
There's always a plan B.
- Mr. Pennyworth
was very confident
in his plan, sir.
- Those were machine guns.
- I do see your point, however.
Having a plan B or,
if I may call it,
a backup plan might
have been helpful
at this juncture.
We're all going to jail.
- But I still think
it's too early
to give up on plan A.
- This van isn't bulletproofed.
I should have
bulletproofed the van.
That lightweight alloy
I've been developing.
4-, no, 5-millimeter
sheeting all around.
- That's it, sir.
You think about that.
I'll start the engine.
- Where are we going?
- All right, sir?
- All right, Chadley,
we can go now.
- Jolly good.
- Jesus.
- Your plan worked.
- Course it worked.
It was a lovely plan.
Have some faith, Mr. Fox.
- How are you, Thomas?
- Uh, yeah, well, I've
been better, Lucius,
but, um, thanks for this.
- Oh, hey, just high treason.
No big deal.
- Right, if we're done here,
can you drop me off on the way?
I've got a date.
What?
Come in.
- Sir, Thomas Wayne has
escaped from the Tower.
Put out an emergency bulletin
for the arrest of
Alfred Pennyworth.
- Yes, sir.
God damn it.
God damn it!
- What's wrong?
Martha is still alive.
And your damn son just
escaped from the Tower.
- Ah.
- Wait a second.
Did you arrange that?
- He's my only son.
I couldn't let him rot in...
Jesus Christ,
I'm surrounded by
fucking idiots.
- But I don't see the harm.
- If the Brits don't have
a culprit to prosecute,
they'll have to dig deeper,
and they'll start looking at us.
- But the CIA are
untouchable, aren't they?
- I'm not. They'll
throw me to the dogs.
Claim I'm a rogue agent.
- Are you?
- Of course I am.
Wake up, you dumb motherfucker.
This whole operation is rogue.
The System is rogue.
You're the only square idiot
in this whole damn deal.
It's me.
- Mrs. Wayne is alive.
- Yes, I know.
- What would you like us to do?
- Do what you have to do,
and then we're shutting up shop.
- Okay.
- That's right.
Scorched Earth.
Yes, ma'am.
- Scorched Earth? What
the heck does that mean?
- Where is Thomas now?
- I don't know.
- Where is he?
- Uh...
- Shh.
Oh, God.
Mum?
For goodness' sake,
you scared me to death.
- Steady on. You
can put that away.
- Alfie, what have you done?
- Business. Good business.
- I'm sorry for the
trouble, Mrs. Pennyworth.
Where's Samantha?
- She's fine.
She's asleep upstairs.
- Who's this, then?
- Oh, this is Roger.
Never you mind who this is.
- Uh, maybe I should...
- No, you're staying here.
I'm not having Alfie
spoil our evening
with his shenanigans.
- Daddy!
- Sam!
- Daddy!
- Come here, sweetie.
Oh, it's good to see you.
- Me and Mary made a cake.
- You did?
Oh, delicious. I'll
have to have a slice.
- So is this your
boyfriend, then?
- Shush, you. We
only met today.
- I see.
- Well, don't be
giving me that face.
I can have a
boyfriend if I like.
- Well... yeah.
- I can dance down the street
naked with him if I like.
- Uh, I assure you, sir,
that's not at all
what I had in mind.
- No, no.
It's Liberty Hall here, mate.
You do as you please.
- I better go.
Goodbye.
Nice meeting you, but, uh...
Goodbye!
Is Mummy all right?
- Thank you, Alfie.
Thank you very much.
- I'll give you ten
minutes with Samantha,
and then we'd better get
to the airport, all right?
- Uh, Mrs. Pennyworth,
would... would you mind...
- Yes, of course I will.
Come on, then, darling.
Let's see what's left to do.
- There is nothing.
- Alfie.
I'm not leaving my family.
- Well, you can't
help Martha, can you?
And Sam's safe here with Mum.
You stay in London, you'll
be back to the Tower...
- I'm not going anywhere.
- It's not up to you.
Your dad's paying us to
get you out of the country,
so that's what we're gonna do.
- Fuck my dad.
- That's my favorite towel.
- I think he is responsible
for all of this.
- Do you have any proof?
- Wayne Enterprises
was developing
a mind-control
drug with the CIA.
Operation Lullaby State.
The doctor running
it has gone rogue,
and now he's trying
to sell the stuff
to the highest bidder.
Martha found out.
- And this Lullaby drug
makes people go nuts?
Could he have given it to you?
- Well, I can't remember
anything that happened
after I got home yesterday,
and now Martha is
in the hospital,
and he's trying to get
me out of the country.
- Not conclusive, really, is it?
- Of course it is.
He tried to make me
kill my own wife.
- Well, be that as it may,
your dad is paying
us a million pounds
to get you on a plane.
What will you pay to stay?
- I don't have a million
pounds to give you, Alfie.
- There's your answer, then.
- Jesus, really?
- Look, I'm doing you a favor.
What are you gonna do here?
You're a wanted man.
And what you gonna
do with your dad?
Kill him? Arrest him?
- I-I'll find out the
truth. That's what I'll do.
- Oh, bugger the truth.
Who cares about the truth?
Whereas if you
get on that plane,
I am a millionaire.
- Alfie.
- Daveboy?
You came.
- Aye.
- What are you wearing?
- It's a... a long story.
- Well, what do you think?
- Very nice.
- Yes.
It is very special, isn't it?
- Well, it's better
than those tins of soup,
that's for sure.
- Well, I like to think so.
- Sally, what have
you brought us?
- This is Daveboy.
Daveboy, this is
Francis Foulkes.
He's the artist.
- Charmed.
- How you doing there, pal?
It's very, uh, nice
art that you have here.
- Where did you pick him up?
- We met at the Thistle funeral.
- Ah.
So you witnessed
that inspired performance.
Everyone's been
talking about it.
I'm so sad I missed it.
- That was Daveboy.
- You don't say.
Ingenious!
- Well, I didn't mean to...
- You are fabulous.
Look at this face.
Plebeian angst in
the flesh.
It's a pleasure to
meet you, Dave... boy.
Bloody...
- Sally, I must do the rounds.
Hello.
- Darling.
- Ha!
- He likes you.
- Hello.
- Ah. Hello, love.
Sorry, I didn't
mean to startle you.
I, um... I let myself
in to save time.
You must be the lovely Virginia.
Alfred Pennyworth.
- Hi. Yes, Virginia Devereaux.
- Nice to meet you.
- Mm.
- Your old man about, is he?
- Uh, yes.
Please, come this
way, Mr. Pennyworth.
Pat, dear, we have a visitor.
Mr. Pennyworth.
Is Thomas safe?
- Snug as a dormouse,
somewhere over the Atlantic.
- Thank you.
- Let's settle up, shall we?
Do you need an invoice?
- Oh, right. No.
- £10,000 down,
£990,000 outstanding.
- Are you kidding
me? A million pounds?
- Please, Virginia,
let me handle this.
- You are the dumbest,
softest son of a bitch
I ever saw.
A million to save that
useless trust fund baby?
- It was the right
thing to do. He's weak.
He would have betrayed
me, testified against me.
I couldn't let him do that.
- He was weak?
Here, hang on, miss.
Let's get business out of
the way first, shall we?
- Take a hike. He's
not paying you.
- Oh, he'll pay.
Or I'll start talking
about Lullaby.
You wouldn't like that,
would you, Mr. Wayne?
- What? How?
- Don't say a goddamn word.
- Oh, for fuck's sake,
you were supposed to wait.
- Thomas?
- I haven't got
anything out of him yet.
- Oh.
- You tell me it isn't true.
- It is not that simple, son.
- Tell me you didn't try
to make me kill my own wife!
- No, no, I didn't!
- You had nothing to do with it?
- It's complicated.
- My daughter was in the house!
Have you no shame at all?
No morals? No conscience?
- Wasn't me. It was her.
- What?
- It was her.
She's CIA.
She's... she's my handler.
She made me do all of this.
- You spineless son of a bitch.
- Oh, go ahead, shoot me.
Send me to prison. I
don't care anymore.
I am tired of this
whole goddamn charade.
- You couldn't keep your
nerve for one more day?
Sit down. All of you.
- Well, here's a turnup, eh?
- Why the hell do you
have a CIA handler?
- I made some mistakes.
- Mistakes?
- Errors of judgment.
- Fraud, corruption,
sexual assault.
- It was entrapment.
The CIA wanted our pharma wing.
- And your father
was a weak link.
- Just curious,
why's the CIA messing
about with drugs?
There's easier ways to kill.
- We've barely
scratched the surface
of what we can do
with this drug.
Give it to 5 people,
10 people, 20,
a whole army, a whole country.
Imagine they all
have the same vision.
A vision controlled by you.
- You sick bitch.
- I'm a patriot and a realist.
And I'm trying to
contain a dangerous
international
security situation.
- Bollocks.
You've cocked up
good and proper.
And now you're trying to save
your ass as best you can.
No shame in that. But
what's the plan here?
Are you gonna shoot
us or something?
'Cause I've got a gun as well
if that's where we're going.
- Try me.
I'm just saying.
- We're going home.
You're staying here for
the police to deal with.
- Well, I'll tell
them everything.
- The government
won't want to hear it.
America is an ally.
You guys are much
better culprits.
Patrick, there's some
handcuffs in my purse.
- Dad, whatever it
is you've done wrong,
this isn't the
way to fix things.
I have no choice.
Everybody has a choice, Dad.
- Police. Hands up.
Drop the gun.
- Drop the gun.
- What are you doing here?
We didn't call the police.
- No, that was me.
I guess I could have mentioned.
- You're all under arrest.
- See, the plan was to get
Mr. Wayne here to confess,
then find out where this
Lullaby was stashed.
Only Thomas here couldn't wait.
Anyway, turns out, it was you.
- We have done nothing wrong.
These men are fugitives.
- Just following orders, madam.
- Who's the dumb
motherfucker now?
Scorched Earth, my ass.
- Keep your mouth shut. We'll
be out before breakfast.
- Hey, give us a moment.
What do you mean,
Scorched Earth?
Sounds ominous.
- Tell them, Officer
Devereaux, tell them.
You have diplomatic immunity.
- Shut your goddamn mouth.
It's too late anyway.
I already sent them.
I have no way to call them off.
- What's too late?
- She sent men to finish Martha.
- Good evening, gentlemen.
- Sorry.
Wrong room.
- That was them.
You should have seen
their faces as they left.
Very droll.
- That was them. She's safe.
They're gone.
I hope we can see our
way past this, Mr. Aziz.
I am the one who called you lot.
- Yes, we'll see.
- Glad to hear it.
Thank you, Constable.
We can go now.
Million bloody quid you cost me.
And are you happy now
now you got the truth?
We get this sorted,
you gents should come
down to Queen Anne's.
We treat plods like you just
the same as anyone else.
Point of pride.
Oh, yeah.
Say it again.
- Oh, you're a dirty wee gadget,
and you know you are.
Oh, Jesus Christ.
- Who the fuck's here?
- Only me. Didn't
mean to disturb.
- Alfie.
- Who is it?
- Alfie, Sally.
Sally, Alfie.
- Nice to meet you.
- Likewise.
- Well, I was just
up to the office,
so don't let me interrupt.
- Nice to meet you, Alfie.
Here we go.
Now I'm stuck.
- Makes two of us.
- Sandra? How'd
you get in here?
- Chadley let me
in to wait for you.
- Huh.
- I went to leave,
but then Daveboy and that
girl were downstairs.
Didn't want to interrupt.
- Right.
Sorry.
- It's all right.
This is nice.
- Hmm.
- You look tired.
- Long day.
Had a bit of a misunderstanding
with the police.
It's all sorted now.
- What? Were you arrested?
- Detained.
- What did they detain you for?
- For allegedly
breaking Thomas Wayne
out of the Tower of London.
- Uh, did you break Thomas Wayne
out of the Tower of London?
- Yeah, we did.
- What was the
misunderstanding, then?
- Well, when you
put it like that,
I'm not sure there was one.
- Everyone just sort of decided
I'd done the right
thing in the end.
- How do you do it, Alfie?
- Do what?
- Get away with things.
It's been years...
and you haven't changed a bit.
- Well...
not like you have.
- No.
Being round you again,
I feel the same.
- Sandra, I can't...
- I'm not...
I'm not asking for anything.
Hello?
Hello?
Is anyone there?
This is not what we agreed!
- Dr. Glubb, it's so
nice to finally meet you.
I'm a huge admirer of your work.
We're going to do
great things together.
need to see my wife.
I need to know if
she's okay. Please!
Stop! Please!
- Morning, sleepyhead.
- What are you doing
awake so early?
- I have a photo
shoot this morning.
- Hmm.
Course you do.
You're a big star.
Come back to bed.
- No. No time for that.
Got hair and makeup
coming any minute.
- Hmm.
It's amazing, what
you've done, Sand.
- Mm.
Well, Dad takes all the credit.
- Course he does.
But this is all
you, you know that.
- They'll be here soon.
- You don't need them.
You're already gorgeous.
- Mm.
Morning, Sandra!
- There she is.
- You look gorgeous.
- Do you know what you're
wearing today, darling?
- No, I don't.
- No?
- What do you think?
- I love it.
I love it.
- Ooh.
- Yeah?
- Yeah, these are perfect.
I would say maybe red lipstick?
What do you think?
- The red lip.
- The red lip, I think, yeah.
No, this is perfect.
Did you see? You're on
the front page again.
- Oh, my God.
- Terrible what happened,
but look at you, darling.
- Right, I'll be off, then.
- All right, bye, Alfie.
I look tired.
No.
- All right, mate.
- All right, Alfie.
- Thank you.
Cheers.
- Morning.
This looks much better.
- Oh, thank you.
Mr. Pennyworth,
I've had a few calls
from your mother already.
Apparently there's
been some trouble
at the Wayne house.
- What kind of trouble?
- I don't know.
But she said you have
to call her right away.
Ah, good morning, sir.
- Good morning, I'm looking
for Alfred Pennyworth.
- You found him.
- My name is Patrick Wayne.
I understand you know my family.
- Yeah, that's right.
What can I do for
you, Mr. Wayne?
- My son tried and
failed to kill his wife.
- What? He never.
- Hard to believe, I
know, but, sadly, true.
He's been locked up in
the Tower of London.
I need you to break him out.
He was taken straight
to the Tower,
and there's been
no contact since.
- I presume you've
tried the legal route.
- Our lawyers are
getting nowhere.
I need to know Thomas is safe.
- And Martha?
- She's in surgery.
A tragedy, but nothing
we can do for now.
There'll be a plane waiting
to take Thomas back to Gotham.
He'll ride it out there
until we get to
the bottom of this.
- There's a chance all of
this will get worked out.
The authorities tend
to look favorably
on families like yours.
And I expect there's
mitigating circumstances,
as they say.
I have a sneaking
suspicion he was drugged.
- Why do you say that?
- Wild guess.
Was he?
- Who knows what happened?
I'm not taking the chance
of having my son rot
in an English jail cell.
I need him out tonight.
- Well, I'm sorry.
I can't help you.
- Is the Tower that tough?
- No, getting him out
would be a doddle.
It's what happens after.
I'd be hanging
myself, wouldn't I?
Rozzers chasing me
the rest of my life.
- Name your price.
- Mate, I wouldn't do
it for a million quid.
- Really?
'Cause that's a
reasonable price.
- Get out.
- I'm serious.
- A million pounds sterling?
- I'm an extremely wealthy
man, and I love my son.
That's £10,000.
An advance.
My son seemed to think
that for the right price,
there's nothing you can't do.
Was he wrong?
I'll look into it.
See if there's a way.
No promises.
- Thank you, Mr. Pennyworth.
You have my family's gratitude.
- Is that Mummy?
- You finish your milk,
there's a good girl.
Hello.
- Mum.
It's me.
- I heard about what
happened. Are you all right?
- Oh, Alfie, it was awful.
He nearly killed her.
- Are you okay?
- Yeah, I'm fine.
I've got Samantha here with me.
Poor Martha's in hospital.
It's touch and go, they say.
He was not right, Alfie.
Something happened to him,
like he was possessed.
I had to bash him over the head
to make him stop.
- Well, you done him
a favor. And Martha.
- Well, I forgot me head scarf.
I had to go back for it.
I dread to think what would
have happened if I... well...
- What was he like
before you left?
- Fine, nothing out
of the ordinary.
He was just making
dinner, God love him.
- No idea what set him off?
- No.
But he was not himself.
- Hmm.
- I suppose I shouldn't ask
where you were last night.
- Not now, Mum.
What do you know about his dad?
- Not much.
Bit uppity.
He's got a younger girlfriend.
She's a right madam.
Asked me to dry
clean her delicates,
can you believe it?
- Listen.
The CIA are involved in this,
and I'm not sure what they want,
but you need to keep an eye out.
You still got that Beretta?
- Well, I don't like
it, but yes, I do.
- Good. Don't
take any chances.
You call the office if
there's any trouble.
- All right, love.
You take good care.
- I'll be around later.
- Did I hear the
Tower... of London?
- Piece of cake.
The Tower's hardly
even a real prison.
More for show.
- Yeah.
So imagine the embarrassment
to the Crown if you do this
and the inevitable
repercussions.
- Tempest in a teapot.
I'm talking about a
million quid here.
- But do you trust him?
- No, of course not.
But we don't need to trust
him to take his money.
And there's several more of them
once Thomas is
safely on a plane.
- Still... the
Tower of London.
- Stop saying that.
We have made it, Chadley.
We've finally made it.
The world's our oyster.
Now, I'm gonna go see
Aziz and see if I can't
make this easy.
And where the fuck's Daveboy?
Oh, fuck.
- Stealing away
before I'm awake?
Terrible.
- I'm just trying to
get out of your hair.
- That was a wild night.
- Aye, it was that.
- Is there somewhere
you'd rather be?
- No, just... Just
work, you know?
- I thought you said
you were in the army.
- I was. Private sector now.
- Oh.
I rather liked the
idea of you in uniform.
So what do you do, then?
- Pennyworth Security.
Missing persons, bodyguarding.
The government
throws us a few jobs.
- Do you ever meet any P-dubs?
Aye.
Too many of the bastards.
- Have you met Captain Blighty?
- Aye. Aye, you
could say that.
- Oh, he sort of scares me.
- Mm, good reason.
He was a mad bastard
before the enhancements.
- There's a party tonight
at the gallery I work at.
Do you want to come?
I'd love you to meet my friends.
- A gallery?
- Yes, well, it's an
intimate gathering
before the art
show this weekend.
It'll be amazing.
It's a multimedia
critique of the normative.
It's an exploration in expanding
the bounds of the
British psyche.
Get tae fuck.
Well, of course
I'll... I'll come if...
If you want me to, obviously.
Always been interested
in the British psyche.
Wonderful.
It's Green Street,
next to the cobbler's.
Starts at 9:00.
- Right.
I can't wait.
I'll see you there.
- Mm, can't wait.
- Turned out really well.
- Can I?
- Go on, then.
Now, you stay right
just there. Okay, love?
Oh, bloody hell.
- Good morning.
- Who are you?
- I'm Roger.
Roger Hammond?
- What do you want? I'm
not buying anything.
- No. No, I'm here for you.
Divorcé?
I enjoy bird-watching?
I have a Yorkshire terrier?
From the Lonely Hearts.
- Oh, yeah.
I remember now.
- Yeah.
- Just a minute.
Right.
I'm sorry, Roger,
but I'm not doing that
sort of thing anymore.
Full of perverts,
in my limited experience.
- Oh.
Right. That's disappointing.
I've come from Plumstead.
- Oh, that is a long way.
- Two buses.
- I meant to cancel, but...
I've had me hands
full over here.
I don't...
- Hello.
- Oh, hello.
Sorry for disturbing
your mum here.
Mum?
Get away.
I'm her nanny.
Well, you're welcome to come in
and have a cup of tea, Roger,
use the facilities before
you make your way back home.
- I wouldn't want to impose.
- No. Come in, come in.
Oh, thank you.
- Yeah.
- Please.
Can you find a vase?
Well done, darling.
Alfred, good morning.
- Busy round here today.
- Yes, I'm afraid
everyone's rather distracted
with the Commonwealth Summit.
Preparing to welcome the
great independent nations
of the British Empire.
- Sounds like they want
a bit more independence.
- Can't say I blame them.
What can I do for you?
- Any update on Mrs. Wayne?
- She's in surgery.
No news as of yet.
- You know, I bumped into
her the day before yesterday.
- Is that so?
- At the Inner Peace Ashram.
Martha seemed to
think that the CIA
were testing a new drug there.
This drug was given
to Jessica Thistle,
and she murdered her parents.
Stands to reason the same
thing happened to Thomas.
- Martha tried to
contact me yesterday.
- Any chance of talking to him?
- Why? What's your
particular interest?
- Well, just a
concerned citizen.
- Hmm! How very noble of you.
But pointless, I'm afraid.
He claims he has no
memory of the incident.
- He's telling the truth.
You know he's innocent.
- Well, strictly speaking,
he's as guilty as sin.
Besides, the CIA evidently
wanted Thomas in jail,
so that's where he's
staying for now.
- They also wanted Martha dead.
- Indeed, so she knows
something important.
I'd like to find
out what that is
before further
provoking the Americans
ahead of a global summit.
- Well, yeah, but...
- Stay out of this.
Now is not the time
for you to be meddling
with international
relations, is that clear?
- Say no more.
- Good.
Thomas may not have
done this deliberately,
but he did do it.
The Tower is the
safest place for him,
for his sake and ours.
Mm.
- Good morning,
Whitehall switchboard.
How may I connect you?
- Yes, I'm trying to
reach Mrs. Martha Wayne.
But I-I keep being...
- Mrs. Wayne is
not available, sir.
Sorry, goodbye.
- Well...
Hello.
- Hello, Dr. Glubb.
How nice to speak
to you at last.
- Who is this?
- I am the answer
to all your prayers.
- How did you find me?
- Just be glad I did.
Shall we meet to
discuss business?
- Who are you?
- Does it matter?
I'm not the CIA, if that's
what you're worried about.
How much longer do you think
you'll be able to
hide from them?
They are so vicious and clever.
- Where shall we meet?
- Cheers.
Well, fuck me.
I do not believe that.
Thank God for Mrs. P, yeah?
- Indeed.
- Mmm.
- You're in last
night's clothes again.
You know, I've said this before,
we should all present
good business decorum.
- Hmm. Oh.
I went home with a bird
from the funeral last night.
Hmm? A real smasher.
Posh as fuck.
Proper nice.
- Goodness.
Well, congratulations.
- Nah, I don't know.
There's got to be
a catch somewhere.
She's invited me to something
at a fucking art
gallery, for fuck's sake,
to meet her fancy friends.
- Why would she want that?
- Exactly.
Why?
- I cannot fathom.
But in future,
please keep some spare
clothes in the office.
Mr. Pennyworth.
- Morning.
- Morning. No luck with Aziz.
He wants to keep
Thomas Wayne locked up.
- Well, that makes sense
after Jessica Thistle.
- Mm.
- We don't know for sure yet
that they're connected.
- Fuck off.
Of course we do.
Thomas Wayne hasn't the
balls to stab his wife.
It was yon CIA.
- Why is the CIA
setting up Thomas Wayne?
- Thomas was the
weapon, not the target.
Martha knew something,
something more than we do,
else we'd be on the wrong
end of the kitchen knife.
So we're still
going in. Tonight.
- Where?
- The Tower.
We're getting him out.
- Are you fucking joking?
This is not our fight.
Huh, the CIA? The Tower? Nah.
No, that's deep, dark
water you're wading into.
- His dad's paying
us a million quid.
- A million?
What, a million pounds?
- Sweet, eh?
- I don't know.
That seems too good to
be true, doesn't it?
No one gets a million pounds.
There's got to be a catch.
- Daveboy, do I
really have to say it?
- No, I know, I know.
Who dares fucking wins.
But, Alfie, a million quid?
- Call Lucius, we're gonna
need him for this one.
- Right away.
- Hey, hold on a wee minute.
We've been sitting here
for ten fucking minutes
eating pink wafers,
and you never thought
to tell me that we were breaking
into the Tower of
fucking London?
Fuck.
- Can you believe it?
He actually asked me...
- Do you know, I can't
tell you what he asked me.
But they weren't the
words of a gentleman,
I can promise you that.
So I decided I'm not
doing that anymore.
You never know who's on
there or where they've been.
- Goodness.
I'm sorry you had such
an awful experience.
- I just wanted
to meet a nice man
and spend time with him.
Maybe do a bit of dancing.
I used to love dancing.
Do you dance?
- Uh, no.
Two left feet, I'm afraid.
- Well, you seem like
a nice normal fella.
What are you doing
on Lonely Hearts?
- Well...
My wife left me.
- Terrible business, terrible.
- She ran off with
Clive Vickery, actually.
- Clive Vickery of
"Good Day Britain"?
Oh.
I do actually remember
hearing about that.
- Yes.
Most people did.
Whole thing was...
very embarrassing.
- That's my husband.
God rest his soul.
Arthur.
- Is... but he...
The prime minister.
And almost the queen.
- He got mixed up in
a lot of nonsense.
But he wasn't all bad.
You should know that.
Died twice, you know.
- I'm sorry?
- So what I'm saying is,
you've no need to
be embarrassed.
Not in front of me, anyway.
- Well, no.
Indeed.
- You know, I never
trusted Clive Vickery.
His eyes are too close together.
Please, I'm begging you.
I need to know if
my wife's alive.
I need to know if she...
I need to know if she's okay.
- Yes, uh-huh.
- Okay, now, I need
all of this back,
so don't leave anything behind.
- What the fuck is that?
- This here is a
lock-picking device.
- Hmm.
- Once securely fastened
to the keyhole...
Press this lever,
and the door should
unlock within ten seconds.
- Yes, miss, I'll hold.
- Should?
For fuck's sake.
Does it work, or does it not?
- I don't need to be here.
You know?
In fact, I shouldn't be here.
- No, we're very grateful
that you are here.
Shut up, Daveboy.
- Now, you may not know this,
but I'm quite an
avid mountaineer.
And I've been toying
with several ideas
in that regard.
Now, I'll explain...
- Grappling hook gun, is it?
Give her here.
- Uh, yes,
that's... that's
exactly what that is.
How it works...
- You shoot it at your target,
flick the switch on the
side, and away you go.
- Yes.
- Think I got it.
- Well, you've got a second
one of them somewhere?
Well, how do I get
up the bleeding wall?
- When Alfie gets there,
he'll throw down a rope.
You climb up.
- Oh, that's fucking perfect.
Fantastic.
- Now, I must emphasize
these are prototypes.
I've only conducted
limited testing,
some more successful
than others.
- Are you fucking hearing this?
- It'll be fine.
- Mm-hmm.
Thank you, madam.
Thankfully Mrs. Wayne is safe.
Out of surgery and doing well.
- How's that for a sign?
Boots on, Daveboy.
- Aye.
Shit.
Fuck.
Fuck!
So, eh, this Sally girl.
- Yeah.
- She...
She asked me to call her names.
You know, in bed. Dirty names.
- Did she?
- Do you think that's normal?
- Happens.
- So I called her
a bastard wee hun.
Seemed to do the trick.
Bloody hell, it worked.
- So do you think
that's all right?
- I'd love to stay and
chat about your love life,
but we should crack on, eh?
Now, if I just flip this...
Whoa!
- Of course.
I'm the one that's got
to climb the bastard.
- Can we turn this off, please?
- It's best to try and
relax on these kind of jobs.
Makes them go faster.
- I can see no reason
at all for relaxation.
Fuck's sake.
Not a fucking word.
- Ugh.
Watch it, mate.
Now, this is a pickle.
- Alfie.
- All right, let's not
alert the whole Tower.
- How's Martha? Is
she okay? Do you know?
- She's alive. She's
gonna be all right.
Thank God.
And Samantha?
- She's fine.
She's with Mum.
Now, stand back.
We'll have you out
of here in a jiffy.
- Uh, okay.
- All ready? Here
goes nothing.
I fucking knew it.
We should have brought
a bloody blowtorch.
Fuck.
Fuck me.
- I didn't do what
they're saying I did.
I was drugged. I
would never hurt her.
- I know that.
Now, if you don't mind,
your dad's paid us
good money to get
you out of here.
- My father came to you?
- Yeah.
Now, give us your hands.
- What's happening?
- We're prisoners,
and Daveboy's escorting
us out of here.
- You hang in there, mate.
- Every bleedin' night...
Hold on.
- Oh, dear.
- It's okay. What's plan B?
- Plan B, sir?
- Plan B,
for when plan A goes
completely fucking haywire!
There's always a plan B.
- Mr. Pennyworth
was very confident
in his plan, sir.
- Those were machine guns.
- I do see your point, however.
Having a plan B or,
if I may call it,
a backup plan might
have been helpful
at this juncture.
We're all going to jail.
- But I still think
it's too early
to give up on plan A.
- This van isn't bulletproofed.
I should have
bulletproofed the van.
That lightweight alloy
I've been developing.
4-, no, 5-millimeter
sheeting all around.
- That's it, sir.
You think about that.
I'll start the engine.
- Where are we going?
- All right, sir?
- All right, Chadley,
we can go now.
- Jolly good.
- Jesus.
- Your plan worked.
- Course it worked.
It was a lovely plan.
Have some faith, Mr. Fox.
- How are you, Thomas?
- Uh, yeah, well, I've
been better, Lucius,
but, um, thanks for this.
- Oh, hey, just high treason.
No big deal.
- Right, if we're done here,
can you drop me off on the way?
I've got a date.
What?
Come in.
- Sir, Thomas Wayne has
escaped from the Tower.
Put out an emergency bulletin
for the arrest of
Alfred Pennyworth.
- Yes, sir.
God damn it.
God damn it!
- What's wrong?
Martha is still alive.
And your damn son just
escaped from the Tower.
- Ah.
- Wait a second.
Did you arrange that?
- He's my only son.
I couldn't let him rot in...
Jesus Christ,
I'm surrounded by
fucking idiots.
- But I don't see the harm.
- If the Brits don't have
a culprit to prosecute,
they'll have to dig deeper,
and they'll start looking at us.
- But the CIA are
untouchable, aren't they?
- I'm not. They'll
throw me to the dogs.
Claim I'm a rogue agent.
- Are you?
- Of course I am.
Wake up, you dumb motherfucker.
This whole operation is rogue.
The System is rogue.
You're the only square idiot
in this whole damn deal.
It's me.
- Mrs. Wayne is alive.
- Yes, I know.
- What would you like us to do?
- Do what you have to do,
and then we're shutting up shop.
- Okay.
- That's right.
Scorched Earth.
Yes, ma'am.
- Scorched Earth? What
the heck does that mean?
- Where is Thomas now?
- I don't know.
- Where is he?
- Uh...
- Shh.
Oh, God.
Mum?
For goodness' sake,
you scared me to death.
- Steady on. You
can put that away.
- Alfie, what have you done?
- Business. Good business.
- I'm sorry for the
trouble, Mrs. Pennyworth.
Where's Samantha?
- She's fine.
She's asleep upstairs.
- Who's this, then?
- Oh, this is Roger.
Never you mind who this is.
- Uh, maybe I should...
- No, you're staying here.
I'm not having Alfie
spoil our evening
with his shenanigans.
- Daddy!
- Sam!
- Daddy!
- Come here, sweetie.
Oh, it's good to see you.
- Me and Mary made a cake.
- You did?
Oh, delicious. I'll
have to have a slice.
- So is this your
boyfriend, then?
- Shush, you. We
only met today.
- I see.
- Well, don't be
giving me that face.
I can have a
boyfriend if I like.
- Well... yeah.
- I can dance down the street
naked with him if I like.
- Uh, I assure you, sir,
that's not at all
what I had in mind.
- No, no.
It's Liberty Hall here, mate.
You do as you please.
- I better go.
Goodbye.
Nice meeting you, but, uh...
Goodbye!
Is Mummy all right?
- Thank you, Alfie.
Thank you very much.
- I'll give you ten
minutes with Samantha,
and then we'd better get
to the airport, all right?
- Uh, Mrs. Pennyworth,
would... would you mind...
- Yes, of course I will.
Come on, then, darling.
Let's see what's left to do.
- There is nothing.
- Alfie.
I'm not leaving my family.
- Well, you can't
help Martha, can you?
And Sam's safe here with Mum.
You stay in London, you'll
be back to the Tower...
- I'm not going anywhere.
- It's not up to you.
Your dad's paying us to
get you out of the country,
so that's what we're gonna do.
- Fuck my dad.
- That's my favorite towel.
- I think he is responsible
for all of this.
- Do you have any proof?
- Wayne Enterprises
was developing
a mind-control
drug with the CIA.
Operation Lullaby State.
The doctor running
it has gone rogue,
and now he's trying
to sell the stuff
to the highest bidder.
Martha found out.
- And this Lullaby drug
makes people go nuts?
Could he have given it to you?
- Well, I can't remember
anything that happened
after I got home yesterday,
and now Martha is
in the hospital,
and he's trying to get
me out of the country.
- Not conclusive, really, is it?
- Of course it is.
He tried to make me
kill my own wife.
- Well, be that as it may,
your dad is paying
us a million pounds
to get you on a plane.
What will you pay to stay?
- I don't have a million
pounds to give you, Alfie.
- There's your answer, then.
- Jesus, really?
- Look, I'm doing you a favor.
What are you gonna do here?
You're a wanted man.
And what you gonna
do with your dad?
Kill him? Arrest him?
- I-I'll find out the
truth. That's what I'll do.
- Oh, bugger the truth.
Who cares about the truth?
Whereas if you
get on that plane,
I am a millionaire.
- Alfie.
- Daveboy?
You came.
- Aye.
- What are you wearing?
- It's a... a long story.
- Well, what do you think?
- Very nice.
- Yes.
It is very special, isn't it?
- Well, it's better
than those tins of soup,
that's for sure.
- Well, I like to think so.
- Sally, what have
you brought us?
- This is Daveboy.
Daveboy, this is
Francis Foulkes.
He's the artist.
- Charmed.
- How you doing there, pal?
It's very, uh, nice
art that you have here.
- Where did you pick him up?
- We met at the Thistle funeral.
- Ah.
So you witnessed
that inspired performance.
Everyone's been
talking about it.
I'm so sad I missed it.
- That was Daveboy.
- You don't say.
Ingenious!
- Well, I didn't mean to...
- You are fabulous.
Look at this face.
Plebeian angst in
the flesh.
It's a pleasure to
meet you, Dave... boy.
Bloody...
- Sally, I must do the rounds.
Hello.
- Darling.
- Ha!
- He likes you.
- Hello.
- Ah. Hello, love.
Sorry, I didn't
mean to startle you.
I, um... I let myself
in to save time.
You must be the lovely Virginia.
Alfred Pennyworth.
- Hi. Yes, Virginia Devereaux.
- Nice to meet you.
- Mm.
- Your old man about, is he?
- Uh, yes.
Please, come this
way, Mr. Pennyworth.
Pat, dear, we have a visitor.
Mr. Pennyworth.
Is Thomas safe?
- Snug as a dormouse,
somewhere over the Atlantic.
- Thank you.
- Let's settle up, shall we?
Do you need an invoice?
- Oh, right. No.
- £10,000 down,
£990,000 outstanding.
- Are you kidding
me? A million pounds?
- Please, Virginia,
let me handle this.
- You are the dumbest,
softest son of a bitch
I ever saw.
A million to save that
useless trust fund baby?
- It was the right
thing to do. He's weak.
He would have betrayed
me, testified against me.
I couldn't let him do that.
- He was weak?
Here, hang on, miss.
Let's get business out of
the way first, shall we?
- Take a hike. He's
not paying you.
- Oh, he'll pay.
Or I'll start talking
about Lullaby.
You wouldn't like that,
would you, Mr. Wayne?
- What? How?
- Don't say a goddamn word.
- Oh, for fuck's sake,
you were supposed to wait.
- Thomas?
- I haven't got
anything out of him yet.
- Oh.
- You tell me it isn't true.
- It is not that simple, son.
- Tell me you didn't try
to make me kill my own wife!
- No, no, I didn't!
- You had nothing to do with it?
- It's complicated.
- My daughter was in the house!
Have you no shame at all?
No morals? No conscience?
- Wasn't me. It was her.
- What?
- It was her.
She's CIA.
She's... she's my handler.
She made me do all of this.
- You spineless son of a bitch.
- Oh, go ahead, shoot me.
Send me to prison. I
don't care anymore.
I am tired of this
whole goddamn charade.
- You couldn't keep your
nerve for one more day?
Sit down. All of you.
- Well, here's a turnup, eh?
- Why the hell do you
have a CIA handler?
- I made some mistakes.
- Mistakes?
- Errors of judgment.
- Fraud, corruption,
sexual assault.
- It was entrapment.
The CIA wanted our pharma wing.
- And your father
was a weak link.
- Just curious,
why's the CIA messing
about with drugs?
There's easier ways to kill.
- We've barely
scratched the surface
of what we can do
with this drug.
Give it to 5 people,
10 people, 20,
a whole army, a whole country.
Imagine they all
have the same vision.
A vision controlled by you.
- You sick bitch.
- I'm a patriot and a realist.
And I'm trying to
contain a dangerous
international
security situation.
- Bollocks.
You've cocked up
good and proper.
And now you're trying to save
your ass as best you can.
No shame in that. But
what's the plan here?
Are you gonna shoot
us or something?
'Cause I've got a gun as well
if that's where we're going.
- Try me.
I'm just saying.
- We're going home.
You're staying here for
the police to deal with.
- Well, I'll tell
them everything.
- The government
won't want to hear it.
America is an ally.
You guys are much
better culprits.
Patrick, there's some
handcuffs in my purse.
- Dad, whatever it
is you've done wrong,
this isn't the
way to fix things.
I have no choice.
Everybody has a choice, Dad.
- Police. Hands up.
Drop the gun.
- Drop the gun.
- What are you doing here?
We didn't call the police.
- No, that was me.
I guess I could have mentioned.
- You're all under arrest.
- See, the plan was to get
Mr. Wayne here to confess,
then find out where this
Lullaby was stashed.
Only Thomas here couldn't wait.
Anyway, turns out, it was you.
- We have done nothing wrong.
These men are fugitives.
- Just following orders, madam.
- Who's the dumb
motherfucker now?
Scorched Earth, my ass.
- Keep your mouth shut. We'll
be out before breakfast.
- Hey, give us a moment.
What do you mean,
Scorched Earth?
Sounds ominous.
- Tell them, Officer
Devereaux, tell them.
You have diplomatic immunity.
- Shut your goddamn mouth.
It's too late anyway.
I already sent them.
I have no way to call them off.
- What's too late?
- She sent men to finish Martha.
- Good evening, gentlemen.
- Sorry.
Wrong room.
- That was them.
You should have seen
their faces as they left.
Very droll.
- That was them. She's safe.
They're gone.
I hope we can see our
way past this, Mr. Aziz.
I am the one who called you lot.
- Yes, we'll see.
- Glad to hear it.
Thank you, Constable.
We can go now.
Million bloody quid you cost me.
And are you happy now
now you got the truth?
We get this sorted,
you gents should come
down to Queen Anne's.
We treat plods like you just
the same as anyone else.
Point of pride.
Oh, yeah.
Say it again.
- Oh, you're a dirty wee gadget,
and you know you are.
Oh, Jesus Christ.
- Who the fuck's here?
- Only me. Didn't
mean to disturb.
- Alfie.
- Who is it?
- Alfie, Sally.
Sally, Alfie.
- Nice to meet you.
- Likewise.
- Well, I was just
up to the office,
so don't let me interrupt.
- Nice to meet you, Alfie.
Here we go.
Now I'm stuck.
- Makes two of us.
- Sandra? How'd
you get in here?
- Chadley let me
in to wait for you.
- Huh.
- I went to leave,
but then Daveboy and that
girl were downstairs.
Didn't want to interrupt.
- Right.
Sorry.
- It's all right.
This is nice.
- Hmm.
- You look tired.
- Long day.
Had a bit of a misunderstanding
with the police.
It's all sorted now.
- What? Were you arrested?
- Detained.
- What did they detain you for?
- For allegedly
breaking Thomas Wayne
out of the Tower of London.
- Uh, did you break Thomas Wayne
out of the Tower of London?
- Yeah, we did.
- What was the
misunderstanding, then?
- Well, when you
put it like that,
I'm not sure there was one.
- Everyone just sort of decided
I'd done the right
thing in the end.
- How do you do it, Alfie?
- Do what?
- Get away with things.
It's been years...
and you haven't changed a bit.
- Well...
not like you have.
- No.
Being round you again,
I feel the same.
- Sandra, I can't...
- I'm not...
I'm not asking for anything.
Hello?
Hello?
Is anyone there?
This is not what we agreed!
- Dr. Glubb, it's so
nice to finally meet you.
I'm a huge admirer of your work.
We're going to do
great things together.