Psych (2006–2014): Season 8, Episode 1 - Lock, Stock, Some Smoking Barrels and Burton Guster's Goblet of Fire - full transcript

Now you're probably wondering

how this all happened.

And likely you're blaming Gus

and his obsessive need
to go to Pottercon.

That's the Harry Potter
festival.

Nobody's blaming me.

And why are you
using that accent?

Accent?
Bollocks, Gus.

This is my natural tim-bre.

This all started
back in Santa Barbara.

The new chief
hadn't hired us in weeks



when suddenly I got a call.

Hello?

- Uh, I answered the phone.
- Fine.

Hello?

Yo, you've never answered
the phone that way.

And why would you possibly
be dressed like that?

You're not the only
one who gets to embellish.

All right, truce.

Facts only from here on out.

It was Interpol.

Yes, that Interpol.

The one on
the DVD warning screen.

We had been requested for a case

in the United Kingdom
of Britain.



- That's England.
- We get it, Shawn.

Within hours,
Gus had invited himself along,

and we were zipping
through security

- at the airport.
- We were being detained.

And you just forgot to mention
this hidden compartment?

That is a Phoenix feather,
sir, not a weapon.

If you were familiar
with the most popular franchise

in the history of film,
maybe you wouldn't experience

such confusion here.

My apologies.

My normally sane buddy

is a little on edge
because of the very tight window

that exists between our arrival
at Heathrow

and the Rupert Grint
meet-and-greet

at Leicester Square.

I am a Grint Grunt,
loud and proud.

Meanwhile, I have been summoned

to help Interpol with a case.

You know Interpol.

From the DVDs?

I don't care what you're doing.

He's not bringing a giant,
sharp, wooden stick

as a carry-on.

That "stick" is a Nimbus 2000,

a gift
the wizard Potter received

from Minerva McGonagall,
when he joined

the Gryffindor Quidditch team
as a seeker...

which you would know

if you had ever successfully
opened a book!

- Gus.
- What? I'm calm.

That was the point
our bags were removed

- from the plane.
- No, it wasn't.

- Correction.
- I need my potions!

That was.

18 hours later,
missing only our luggage,

we arrived at Interpol--

International Police
Organization.

They issue the warnings
on the blu-ray discs.

We've covered this.

They're also a band.

Thank you for coming,
Mr. Spencer.

You're saving our lives here.

I'm Winston.

I'll be briefing you
until my boss arrives.

Ah, yes, Her Majesty,
the Queen.

Now, does she prefer
Liz or Lizzie?

We were never
gonna meet the queen.

Perhaps you were confused by
what Wilfred was trying to say.

- His name was Winston.
- Okay, perhaps I was confused.

From whence
shall I begin my investigation?

Oh, Mr. Spencer,
you were never brought here

to investigate anything.

Sounds like a wasted
plane ticket if you ask me.

We are in the middle
of a long undercover sting.

You bear more
than a passable resemblance

to an American getaway driver

in a planned heist
we're investigating.

- The Yard--
- That means Scotland Yard.

- They know.
- Nicked our driver

- two days ago...
- That means arrested.

Will you shut up?
Just shut up, Shawn.

Mucking up our whole sting.

We thought we were done for.

Until we heard of you.

Heh.

Clearly my exploits
are renowned worldwide.

I had no idea
you were an investigator.

My superior asked for you.

Sweet Lizzie.
Cheeky old dame.

Where's her office?

His name is
Royston Cornwallis Staley.

He's our deputy director.

Apparently you two met
while he was undercover.

Take me to him.

You didn't say that.

And it's never okay

to throw hot tea in my face.

Apparently you two met
while he was undercover.

Royce Staley, you say?
Ha.

Well, first I'd like to try
these "crumpets"

I've heard so much about,

and then if it's not
too much trouble,

I'd like to speak with him.

If that's okay with you,
of course.

Mr. Staley is expecting us.

Spotted dick?
Spotted dick?

Three spotted dicks, please.

Have you heard about Pluto?

No.

Sir, they have arrived.

Shawn.

Buster.

♪ In between the lines
there's a lot of obscurity ♪

♪ I'm not inclined
to resign to maturity ♪

♪ if it's all right

♪ then you're all wrong

♪ but why bounce around
to the same damn song? ♪

♪ Ooh

♪ you'd rather run
when you can't crawl ♪

♪ I know you know that
I'm not telling the truth ♪

♪ I know you know they
just don't have any proof ♪

♪ embrace the deception

♪ learn how to bend

♪ your worst inhibitions

♪ tend to psych you
out in the end ♪

You infiltrated Interpol?

How did you pull that off, man?

This is not okay.

- I'm personally neutral.
- No, you're not.

- He's right, I'm outraged.
- How's this possible?

Well, after a long
and glamour-free career

as an analyst here at Interpol,

we found that the criminal world
had become more insular.

We had little
to no inside information.

As a matter of fact,
we were losing.

We needed a bold new idea.

And I got my first chance
to go undercover

- from my boss, Wim Stuyvesant.
- Wim?

Well, this is
an international group.

We, uh--we don't discriminate
against the Dutch here.

So underappreciated desk jockey
Roy Staley

was erased and decommissioned,

and the character
of Pierre Despereaux was born.

Within a year I was a star

of the international
crime community...

performing heists organized
secretly by the division,

getting prime information

on the London underworld
undetected.

53 arrests.
All convictions.

The thefts were all set-ups?

I didn't actually
steal any items.

I was given them.

- But you went to prison.
- Yes.

Because of you I brought down
two kingpins inside.

- I meant to thank you for that.
- You're welcome.

- You never stole anything?
- Got it.

Have you ever heard
the expression "one for me..."

Hello, Rembrandt.
"One for you"?

I have.

Fortunately, my side work
was under the radar.

Pretty harmless stuff, really.

Or perhaps that is
until I got recalled.

You didn't do that alone?

You don't actually think
that I managed to do all of that

by myself, do you?

No.

I did.

On the day of my return
to service,

we finally received a tip on
the mother lode of all crooks--

criminal boss Ronnie Ives.

Ronnie is a brutal thug
who pulls off enormous crimes

and retreats back into
the shadows without a trace.

He's smart, efficient, and never
works with the same crew twice.

He assembles a crew of strangers
in a Keyser Soze manner,

none of them knowing each other,
and thrusts them

into his meticulously
pre-planned heists.

Then immediately
disbands the group

at the end of each job.

He recently assembled
a new team.

We knew where they were meeting.

That is until the mad American
got himself arrested.

And that's where you come in.

- Nope.
- What do you mean, nope?

I don't believe it.
There's no such thing

as a police-sanctioned criminal.

Look, I don't know
how you pulled this off,

but kudos to you.
This is all a fake--

this office, that amazing
secretary out there,

perhaps this whole country.

And there's no American

crazed getaway car driver
doppelganger

who happens to look
exactly like Shawn.

Did you bring a coat?

Gentlemen,
I give you Robert Fino,

Philadelphia born and bred
getaway driver.

Perhaps now you can see
why I thought of you, Shawn.

This man looks nothing like me.

- What?
- His hair is fine and silky,

as if spun by a fabulous spider.

Mine is a helmet,
a perfect, brown helmet

inspired by the lives
of real beavers.

Okay.
I may not be the best judge,

because you people
all look alike to me,

but, although shockingly close,

I don't think
he's an exact match.

Ronnie never works
with anyone he has met.

And their first meeting
is scheduled for tomorrow.

- So why doesn't he go?
- Yeah?

What?

He doesn't seem
to want to cooperate.

He hasn't said a word.

But, uh, hmm, passes
the occasional note.

"Ronnie is going
to slice his throat

with a straight edge razor."

You misspelled "razor."

Would you like him
to correct it?

- Where's the pride, Shawn?
- I don't know.

You listen to me.

You have no idea
the range of my skill set.

Let's hope to God
that you're a fast learner.

- My name is Robert Fino.
- What was your mother's name?

- Didn't have one.
- Yes, you did.

I was the product
of divine intervention.

- Wrong. You're dead.
- Raised by water bears?

Can we at least
attempt a woman's name?

- Glen? Mulva?
- Wrong. Wrong.

- Rollergirl?
- Wrong.

- Starchild?
- That's ridiculous.

Have you even read the file?
Parts of it.

- Which parts?
- The parts that say "boobs."

It doesn't say "boobs"
anywhere in the file!

All right.

- Where were you born?
- Crossfire hurricane.

That's physically impossible.
Answer the question.

On the steps of the
Philadelphia Museum of Art,

at dawn,
in a grey track suit, Jack.

- That was Rocky Balboa.
- Hmm.

Well, that explains why

I was thinking of punching
dead animal carcasses.

Why are you using
an English accent?

You're supposed to be
from Philadelphia.

All right.

When were you last arrested?

Where did you serve time?

How many--excuse me.
Excuse me.

Yes?

How is it that he knows
the answers and you don't?

I'm a sympathetic learner.

All right.

Let's start
with the simplest question.

What state is Philadelphia in?

- Hello.
- Hello?

Wrong. You're dead.
All right, look.

This is hopeless.

We have nine hours
until the meeting.

We need a new approach.

Please stop playing
with the earpiece.

It's very annoying.

Thank you.
All right, let's review.

Do not speak

unless you absolutely have to.

Don't make eye contact.

Just find out the location

of the job
and get out of there.

We'll have a visual on you

in five, four, three, two--

Good God, what are you wearing?

I hit a vantage store this
morning, and I feel unstoppable.

Take off that ridiculous hat.

Yep.
Overkill.

- And the Jack.
- I can't.

It's signed by Burt Reynolds,
and it matches my gloves.

- Which gloves?
- The gloves

that Winston got for me.

You're welcome.

He told me you approved it.

Can we keep this moving?
The only reason why I'm here

is because
I have a Pottercon event

in 25 minutes from now,

and I promised
my local potterheads

that I'd be returning
with a picture

of myself and Rupert Grint
possibly pottering.

What on earth is pottering?

You know, where you
jump off something high

with a broom and snap
a picture in midair.

You appear to be flying.

- What the--
- All right.

I am now in
the bloody bucket pub.

It smells vaguely of sausage.

I suspect someone here
is boiling cabbage.

Ask him what kind of cabbage.

Yes, just stop talking.

I am stopping talking.

Look, the Rupert Grint
meet-and-greet

is less than a 1/2 kilometer
from here.

So if Shawn simply asks where
the job is right off the top,

then maybe we could--

Holy moly.

- What?
- That's him!

- Who?
- Rupert Grint.

- That's Grint.
- Where?

- Oh, my gosh.
- What? Who?

How do I get out of here?

Wait, where are you going?

You're not supposed
to leave a surveillance van.

No one's supposed to leave
a surveillance van.

Excuse me, ma'am.
Have you seen Rupert Grint?

He's, like, this high.
Like, about this high.

Red hair? You sure?
He was walking this way.

You couldn't miss him.

Take a seat, Fino.

Sorry I'm late.

Listen up,
ladies and gentlemen.

We have a problem.

We have a traitor amongst us.

Somebody has been talking
to people they shouldn't.

Parkey, a word.

Ha.

Don't speak.
Don't speak.

Don't speak.
Don't speak.

Don't speak.
Oh, please don't speak.

Please, don't speak.
Don't speak, don't speak.

Don't speak, don't say anything.
Don't say anything.

Please don't say anything.
Please, please, please!

- So...
- Don't speak. Don't speak.

Deer-da.

- Dierdre.
- Deer-Dee.

- Dierdre.
- That can't be right.

- How's that spelled?
- D-i-e--

That takes care of the traitor.

Job done.

All right, Shawn,
it's very simple.

Just find out the location of
the heist and get out of there.

All right then.

Let's say we get
this show on the road, huh?

Job's off.
Kaput.

No, no, no,
the job can't be off.

Make this happen, Shawn.

No. No!

I didn't come here
all the way from Cleveland

- for this.
- I thought you was from Philly.

I do.
I do live in Philly.

But I don't fly out of airports
that start with "P."

I know, it's a superstition,
but I have some

because I gotta do
what makes me feel right.

Here's another one.
I only stand

for the entirety
of transatlantic flights.

First I tuck it
and then I do it,

and there's the ocean.

He is as daft
as what they say, in't ya?

I'm dafter.
Whatever level of daftness

you're talking about,
I'm dafter than that.

I mean to finish this.

I mean to see this through.
Now let's do this.

Do you not think
I want this to happen?

This job
is very important to me,

but we're all one man down.

What?

Not anymore, we're not.
I know a guy.

What--what--what--what
the hell are you doing?

- He's better than good.
- Who?

They call him...

"The Wizard."

Hey.
Why the long face?

Man, I thought
I saw Rupert Grint,

but it was just
dumb old prince Harry.

Oh, that's a bummer.
I've got something

that'll turn that
frown upside down.

Come inside and pretend
to be an explosives expert.

Are you crazy?

You must be out
of your damn mind.

What is the big D?

You're already pretending
to be a sorcerer.

I am pretending
to be a wizard, Shawn.

Get your fantasy fiction right.

All right, look.
The crew is a man short.

If you don't do this, Ronnie is
gonna call off the whole heist,

and you are gonna blow
our shot at being

international crime-solving
gentlemen of leisure.

Ah, you know, Shawn,
I really would like to help you,

but, you know, I have
the opening hat ceremony

and then the Horcrux
scavenger hunt

and then
the Quidditch tournament.

My afternoon is booked solid.

Bollocks.

Do the job, Gus.

Shawn, do not go sexy beast on me.

- Do the job, Gus.
- Shawn.

- Yes--yes.Yes.
- No. No. No.

- Yes. Yes. Yes.
- No. No.

- I will not.
- Where there's a will,

there's a way.

Right here, right now,
there's a way.

There is no will,

and there is no way, Shawn.

You should be ashamed
of yourself.

I'm gonna make it
really easy for you.

Will you do the job?

- For the last time, no.
- Turn the job yes!

That doesn't even make
grammatical sense.

- Yes! Yes!
- No. Shawn.

- Yes! Yes!
- Will you stop it?

- Yes! Yes!
- Shawn. Shawn.

- Will you stop it?
- Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.

What's he doing out there?

- No. No. No. No.
- Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!

- No, no, no, no.
- Yes, yes, yes, yes.

Bloody stomping around
out there.

- Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.
- Shawn.

- Yes! Yes--
- Stop it, Shawn!

- Will you do the job?
- I'm gonna kill you.

- Please do the job.
- Oh, my gosh.

- Pretty please do the job?
- This guy.

Shawn, why does that guy
have blood on his face?

Bird flu.
It's bird flu.

Although they call it
girl flu here.

- Nope.
- All right.

So this is the team.

Our fearless leader,
Ronnie Ives.

That's 'Arry.

'Cause apparently,
there's no "H" in this language.

And last,
but certainly not least,

the lovely and exquisite
Dee-dra.

- It's Dierdre.
- Dirty.

- Dierdre.
- Do me.

- Dierdre.
- Deer?

- Dierdre. Dierdre.
- Deer--deer--

- Dierdre. Dierdre.
- Deer--you're saying--wait--

- Dierdre.
- Doody?

- Dierdre.
- We're making a doody?

- Dier...dre.
- One more time.

- Dier--
- Just leave it.

You're never gonna get it.

Let's move on.

As promised, team,
I give you...the Wizard.

I prefer to be
called "the Iz."

'Ello, love.

You do that again,
and I'll cut off your hand

and use it as a doily.

You don't look like any other
mucker I've worked with.

What kind of jobs
have you pulled, Mr. Whiz?

As far as my exploits go,

let's just say when I was 13,
I broke into the ministry,

I fought off mobs,
and once I even got splinched.

Splinched?

- What's that?
- You don't wanna know.

- Right in the sack.
- It wasn't in the sack.

Shawn, just find out

the location of the job.

So, Ronnie, let's talk
about the job, shall we?

When it's going down,
where it's going down.

You just tell us the location,

a time, and what we're wearing.

Though I assume
we'll all be in black singlets.

Masks or no masks?

I don't know
about these two, Ronnie.

They seem like
bloody idiots to me.

They don't have
the proper qualifications.

Well, what do I know about
your qualifications, Deandra?

I mean, what have you done
with your life that's so dope?

I infiltrated
the highest level of the K42.

Well, I got to the 12th
screen of Galaga

when I was, like, seven.

The K42's not a bloody
videogame, you berk.

It's a private security firm.

Works exclusively
for British royalty.

Oh...

Just having some fun.

Got some questions
for you, though.

- Really?
- How many closets do they have

in that big old palace?

No, no.
Which corgi is the happiest?

Sod the royals.
They live a life of luxury,

and my old man's worked
all his life down the mines.

I say they should all
be thrown in the sea.

I doubt that'll do
any good, Ronnie.

You know all those rich kids
get swimming lessons.

Mm-hmm.

I like him.

He's all right.

I've always had a soft spot
for the mad ones.

But, listen, Dierdre's right.

We gotta make sure
you boys are legit.

We don't wanna get
tucked up now, do we?

- Shall we move on?
- Anywhere you wanna go.

No, no, no, no, don't go--
don't go to a second location.

Where are you going?
Wh--okay.

They're going.
Start the van.

So we're robbing a house, huh?

Kitchen, south-facing window?

Very perceptive, Mr. Fino.

But I'm not interested
in your driving skills.

I hate to be
a party pooper, Ronnie,

but I don't think we're all
gonna fit in that thing.

So you got two minutes
to complete the course.

These cones represent, uh--

Lamp posts and letter boxes.

Right.
And the, uh...

- the cutouts.
- People.

Sure.

Two minutes you say, huh?

That's a piece of puddin'.

Whoo!
Whoo!

You ran everything over.
Twice.

You pay me to drive.

Something gets in my way...

it's not my problem.

I like him.
He's as daft as they say.

- You're in.
- What?

Still not sure
about you, though.

What?

Make something go bang.

- Uh, it's not that easy.
- That's actually true.

Uh, full disclosure--

the Whiz has
a little performance anxiety.

Okay?
It's called E.D.

- What?
- It's a real thing.

Explosives dysfunction.

You remember Steve Sax, anybody?

One out of every five munitions
experts suffers from it.

I'd be happy to come back
with something for you tomorrow.

What are you trying to say?

Are you two trying
to give us the swerve?

I have no idea
what he just said.

Yeah, that's just
gibberish, Ronnie. What--

- Oi, boss.
- What?

What's that?
Look.

That looks like
a listening device.

- It's a wizard's wand.
- Give me that.

It better be.

Otherwise you two are dead.

What's the plan?

What do you got,
what do you got?

What are those, pop rocks?

You're gonna throw
pop rocks at 'em?

No, it's floo powder.

What does it do?

It makes a smoke cloud
so we can run for it.

- Oh, nice.
- Expecto Patronum!

Is that it?

Bloody 'ell!

How'd you do that?

Expecto. Patronum.

Winston!

Winston.

Winston.
Dude.

I'm sure you heard what
went down at the warehouse.

He blew up a trash can.

Staley really saved
our crumpets out there.

Mr. Staley is
in a meeting at the moment.

He asked that you wait.

He's very upset with you.

You've done everything
he asked you not to do.

Well, could you tell him
to hurry up?

Because some of us

need to break
into Mr. Ives' office.

- What?
- I stole Ronnie's key card

when he was about to shoot you
in the face.

Hey.

I don't know how

you Americans operate,

but here we follow protocol.

Now Mr. Staley
is in charge of this case,

and you will do nothing
unless he authorizes it first.

Fair enough.

We're actually
pretty jealous of you, man.

Getting to work
with him all the time,

solving crimes,
eating meat pies.

Actually, I'm not jealous
at all.

Truth of the matter is,
I never fully trusted the man.

Actually, I've only been
working for Roy a short time.

I scarcely know him.
And I'm a vegetarian.

- Wait, you don't know Staley?
- You eat pies

with no meat in them?

Like the rest, I came in
when the staff turned over.

The truth is,
no one around here knows Roy.

Do you hear that, Shawn?
No one knows Staley.

Obviously someone knows him.

- I mean, who hired him?
- Wim Stuyvesant.

Aha! The Dutchman.

I know all about your
non-discriminatory policies

regarding the Dutch.

He's a legend around here.

See that, Gus?

Stuyvesant is a legend
around here, so you can suck it.

We need to talk
to this Wim Stuyvesant.

He never comes out
of the field.

I've never met him.
No one has.

Really?

- Can you excuse us one moment?
- Hmm.

Despereaux
is setting us up again.

We don't know that for sure.

The situation is extremely
suspicious, Shawn.

- Admit it.
- The only thing I will admit

is that the bubble and squeak
is neither bubbly nor squeaky.

- All I need is spotted dick.
- Be that as it may,

there is only one way
to know for sure

if Despereaux
is on the up and up.

Lassiter.
What do you want, Spencer?

Hello, Lassie.

I need you to run
a quick background check

on an Interpol agent
named Roy Staley,

and I need you to do it
on the D.L.

Let me get this straight.
You just want me to drop

everything that I'm doing
to investigate a member

of the international law
enforcement community

and keep it on the D.L.?

Yes.
Yes, I am.

Thank you.

Stop it.

You are acting like an animal.

You are acting like an animal.

- Stop it.
- I am hungry.

I'm hungry, I'm hungry.

- No. That belongs to Nigel!
- Come on, son.

- Come on.
- That is Nigel's.

All right,
I am on Interpol's database.

Searching...

No.

There is no one by that name

that has ever
worked for Interpol.

What?

Okay, try--try Wim Stuyvesant.

W-i-m.
He's a Dutchman.

Hang on.

No.

Not that either.

Thanks.

Despereaux's
setting us up again.

Damn it!

You're telling me
Mr. Staley is an imposter?

His real name
is Pierre Despereaux.

And he is the last of the famous
international art thieves.

Mm-hmm.
Our theory is that

he infiltrated Interpol
during the staff turnover,

created back story,
and then forged documents

showing he was hired
by Stuyvesant,

knowing good and well
that Dutch bastard

wouldn't be here to deny it.

Despereaux
knew that Ronnie Ives

was planning a big heist.

So he used
this agency--your agency

to figure out what it was so
that he could steal it first.

I feel like a fool.

- Well...
- Winnie...Little Pooh man,

don't beat yourself up.

Not over this.
No.

Despereaux has hoodwinked Gus
and I on several occasions.

How's the saying go?
Fool me once, shame on me,

fool me twice,
won't get fooled again.

Fool me a third time and...
well, the second time

didn't really count because, I
mean, man, didn't he look dead?

Shawn, that's not remotely
how the saying goes.

I have to report
this immediately

to the secretary general.

Winnie, no!
You make that call,

and Despereaux will disappear
into thin air.

We've seen it.
Mark my words.

- What are you suggesting?
- Well...

Gus and I came all the way
to this exotic island nation

to solve an international crime.

And that is precisely
what we intend to do.

Uh, I came here to drink
my weight in butterbeer,

and that's what I'm gonna do.

You are an animal.
An animal!

Winnie,
I'm asking you to please

give me back Ronnie Ives'
security card

because, make no mistake,
Despereaux must be stopped.

Don't do it.

And the only men who can do it
are standing in this room.

- Uh-uh.
- One, two...three.

Are you in or out?

I suppose I could remain quiet
about this for a few hours.

Lock out his access.

This is what
I'm talking about, man.

You see that, Gus?

The Brits and the Americans

fighting on the same side again.

Just like World War II.

Well, hear me, gentlemen.

This time, we're gonna win.

Ronnie?

You home?

Rone?

Tenderoni, baby.

Coast is clear.

Shawn, if Ronnie catches us,
he's gonna kill us.

Gus, don't be The Howling 2:
Your Sister's A Werewolf.

What we gotta do is figure out
where the heist is going down,

turn it over to the authorities,
become heroes,

get knighted by the queen,

and then spend
every single Thanksgiving

in Sir Paul McCartney's
submarine.

Or we don't find anything
and we get thrown in jail

for breaking and entering.

I'm too pretty to get locked up

in the Tower of London, Shawn.

Oh.

Looks like Ronnie's pop
passed away recently.

Oh, wow.

Maybe that's why
he's so angry and cockney.

- That is disgusting, Gus.
- I said "cockney," Shawn.

What you should do is find
yourself a lady because--

The K42
is a private security firm

that works exclusively
for British royalty.

So we're robbing a house, huh?

Dude, I know where
the heist is going down.

It's at one
of the royal residences.

We gotta get back
and tell Winston.

Oh, hello...'Arry.

Whiz and I, we just came by
to say hi to Ronnie,

- but he's not here.
- Shut it.

Okay.

I saw you lift Ronnie's key

at the warehouse.

I've been waiting
for you to show up.

You got some neck, ain't ya?

Trying to steal from Ronnie.

Bloody pillocks.
I should take me mobile

out my sky rocket and ring him
right now.

- What is this man saying?
- I have no idea.

But I think he's on to us.

But I'm not gonna do that,
am I?

I don't know.
Are--are you asking me?

Is it rhetorical?
Is it--

I'm so confused
right now, Harry.

We're having that key back.

Sure, sure.

- Uh...
- Give it to him.

- Yeah.
- Give it to him.

There we go.

Now I'm gonna
keep this as insurance.

The price for keeping me mouth
shut is your share of the heist.

How's that sound then?

- Yeah.
- Absolutely.

Don't give it a second thought.

- Why not?
- Yeah.

Are you sure the job
is at a royal residence?

Because there are 154 of them
that fit our description.

Kitchen, south-facing window.

Yes, I am sure, Winnie.

It has a kitchen
with a south-facing window.

Well, that helps...a bit.

While you're at it, can you
look up Rupert Grint's address?

- No.
- Don't bring out the wand.

There you two are.
Where have you been?

- I've rung you numerous times.
- This is true.

Full disclosure,
we snuck off to Pottercon.

- Really?
- Yeah.

It was a meet-and-greet
with Dingleberry.

Dumbledore.

You were supposed
to be finding out

the location of the heist,
not wasting your time

at a convention for silly
children's films.

Silly? Those movies are a part
of your country's history.

We need to discuss

our next move in the Ives case.

My office, now.

Yep, right now.
This is work time.

Uh, Staley?

What?

Uh...

I know we're really
pressing our luck here,

but do you think it'd be
possible for Gus and I

to drop by the hotel real fast
and freshen up a little?

I'm starting to smell
like Hagrid's dog.

- Fang.
- You know fang

but you don't know
who Dumbledore is?

- I know dogs.
- All right.

A 1/2 hour.

All right, look. If Despereaux
comes back looking for us,

you tell him
that Gus got his big toe

stuck in the tub faucet,
because that really happened.

And call us as soon as
you know which one

of these royal residencies
Ronnie's trying to hit.

All right?
Let's go.

Man, you weren't kidding,
you do stink.

- What is that?
- Nigel's meat pie went bad.

That's what you get for
swiping another man's meat.

I like meat, Shawn.

Oh, come on.
What is this?

Another driving exercise?

When are we gonna
do the job, Ronnie?

What about now?

You can drive.

Come on.
Come on, team!

Let's rock 'n' roll!

- Let's go.
- No.

- Do the job.
- No.

- Do the job.
- No.

Get in the back of the van!

- No.
- Do the job.

- Yes, yes, yes, yes!
- No, no, no, no.

- No.
- Not this time, S--

No. No.

1/2 mile up here, Chuck a left.

You sure about that, Ronnie?

It doesn't look--it doesn't
look very royal to me out there.

This is where we pick up
the new member of the team.

New? I thought it was
a five-member job.

It is.
We have a traitor amongst us.

Another traitor. Wow.

You don't think maybe...

maybe you're just a little
bit paranoid, Ronnie?

Just a little?

It turns out
old Parkey was legit.

I feel a bit sorry for him.

Now I want all of ya to turn out
everything in your pockets.

- Not you, you prat!
- Sorry.

Sorry, team.

I said everything, 'Arry.

Ah, just as I thought.

I can explain.

- Ronnie.
- Bet you can.

Tell it to the road, 'Arry!

It was Fino and the Whiz!

Okay, we'll meet
the fella here.

Uh, you sure this
is the place, Rone?

Looks like we got ourselves
a no-show, man.

Yeah, we might
wanna get out of here.

Gentlemen.

- Deer-dra.
- It's Dierdre.

Right, stop here.

Spray the cameras.

Okay, how the hell
did you get here?

This was your plan all along,
wasn't it?

Get us in the job, slide
yourself in the middle of it,

and then run off with the loot.

Oi, what are you doing?

Cut the electrics.

Please, gentlemen.
I had to improvise.

Something terrible happened.

Winston was hiding
key information from me.

Didn't even tell me
the job was on.

I'm having Scotland Yard
pick him up as we speak.

Terrible surprise.

I'm shocked, really.

Chap had a terrific future.

Uh, did we just
get Winston arrested?

Or worse.

Fortunately,
I had time to sell out 'Arry

and resurrect Despereaux
one last time

to clean up Winston's mess.

- Maybe he meant well.
- Yeah, maybe he really thought

- he was doing the right thing.
- Yeah.

Hey, I've got an update
on your Wim Stuyvesant.

God, please tell me
he doesn't exist.

He doesn't exist.

But he did.
Somebody completely erased him.

Must have been somebody with a
really high level of clearance.

My guess is
he turned state's evidence

and went to go play
with the limeys.

So that means
Roy Staley is real?

I'm sorry.

Is this operation interrupting
your phone call?

Look, man, we have
a lot to process here.

Well, now you're up to speed.

Due to this Winston backstab,

we don't have backup
for a while.

What are we supposed to do
until they get here?

We do the job.
This way.

Uh, small problem here.
I don't actually

know how to blow up
an electrical shack.

But, my good man,
you already have.

Dierdre, take care
of that interior guard.

Right.

You make sure
the backup system's off.

You two, I want you
to wire up that safe.

- I'll be back in 90 seconds.
- Consider it done.

If we were smart,
we'd get back in this van,

drive,
leave Despereaux Staley here.

- He's done it to us.
- Come on, Gus.

We're just gonna attach a couple
dummy wires to the wall safe

and wait for the cavalry
to arrive.

Shawn, this briefcase
is full of candy.

What kind of candy?

This is weird.

This place
has already been robbed.

Uh, Shawn, where's the safe?

All right,
something is very wrong here.

- Oh, crap.
- What?

That's Calvin Dorchester.

He's been dead
for at least an hour.

We've been set up.

Sod the royals!
They've lived a life of luxury.

My old man, he's worked
his whole life down the mines.

I say we throw 'em
all in the sea.

- Gus, they're family.
- What?

Ronnie's dad died broken
and poor, remember?

Then in the aftermath,
Ronnie must have figured out

the family secret.

He's a Dorchester.

- This isn't a heist, Gus.
- This is an assassination.

Actually...

it's a heist gone wrong.

You two got killed
trying to escape.

He killed you with this.

No, no, no, no.
That did not happen.

No. But it will.

- Listen, Dirty--
- It's Dierdre.

- How difficult is it to say?
- Very.

There's absolutely no reason
for the extra "R."

And there's no reason for you
to kill us right now.

Okay, I get it, and it sucks.

Ronnie's dad didn't know it,

but he's actually part
of the family bloodline.

Oi.

That's right.

And that dead bastard cut my
whole family all out of it.

All this should have been ours.

But instead my poor old dad

had to work his ass off
down in the mines.

Let it out, Ronnie.

Just let it gently
come out of you,

you know, like a soft song,

'cause we're listening.

And then let's finish
the heist together

like three gentlemen
and a lady.

Unfortunately, the royals are
a little bit harder to kill.

Now I need two tossers to tie
this investigation together.

- Tossers? I--
- I don't know.

- Oh.
- Sure. Sure.

Thanks for volunteering, boys.

Dierdre, when you finish that,

go and pop the Frenchman
and place him by the entrance.

I thought you'd never ask.

Shawn, what are we gonna do?

Gus, would you relax?

Any second now,
Despereaux/Staley

is gonna show up with the whole

of the international
policing community.

They're gonna storm in here,
and they're gonna save us.

All we have to do
is keep stalling.

Or as Wim Stuyvesant would say,

Shtalling.

- Dude?
- Yeah.

We really have to stop
trusting that man.

Son of a...

- Shoot him first.
- What?

Okay, yes.
Yes.

This would seemingly wrap up

the murder investigation
of poor Calvin Dorchester.

Two dead criminals come in.
Boom.

I get it.
Sure.

But there is one thing

that you don't know about,
Ronnie.

- And what's that?
- I'm not Robbie Fino.

Nope.

- And he's not a wizard.
- What?

- What?
- I'm no criminal.

Matter of fact,
I'm not even crazy.

At best, I'm pleasingly
eccentric.

At worst, I'm incorrigible
and sophomoric.

But right now I have all
of Interpol on their way here

to save us.

And if you don't believe me,

just check his briefcase.

You'll see what I mean.

Get all up in there.

- Yeah.
- What's this?

Curly wurlies!
And they're delicious.

I know!

Toffee covered
in chocolate, Jack.

Like little chains.

Just about
had enough of you two.

You've served your purpose.

I got something really cool
to tell you, Ronnie!

Oh!

Despereaux's back.
He came back!

Staley came back.

It's been emotional.

Didn't I tell you to stall?

You really are Roy Staley.

- Of course I am.
- I'm not sure.

Oh, Gus, will you stop it?

We finally know who the man is,

and he's better
than he ever was.

So what about the bag of jewels

we saw you with outside?

Staley.
My office. Now.

Yes, sir.

Excuse me,
who was that brazen fellow

with the crystal blue eyes?

I'm gobsmacked.

That must be Wim Stuyvesant.

Gee.

How do you say "Suck it"
in English?

You just did, Shawn.

I can't believe
Stuyvesant suspended you.

My dear boy, I'm one of Her
Majesty's civil servants.

And as such I must accept
the consequences of my actions

without complaint.

That's noble.

I can't help but think
it's at least partly our fault.

I mean, if we told you
everything we found out,

- Dorchester might still be alive.
- Although not for long.

I mean, he was really old.
And evil-ish.

Don't feel guilty, Shawn.

I'd have been suspicious of me
if I'd been in your shoes.

Well, this bulldog is the last
of my chattels.

If you boys ever get back
to London, do look me up.

You'll find me toiling away
in obscurity

in some dreary old office,
no doubt.

Hey.

- I'm proud of you.
- Thank you.

You'll be back on top
in no time, Despereaux.

You'll see.

My name is not Despereaux.

It's Staley.

Royston Cornwallis Staley.

And you can call me Cory,
if you so wish.

- I'm not gonna do that.
- Fair enough.

Shawn.
Buzby.

Admit it.

Once and for all,
you misjudged that dude.

Royston Cornwallis Staley
is a standup gentleman.

You know what, you're right.
Yes, I did.

Well, I guess we can finally
go to your Pottercon thing now.

No.
It ended last night.

Besides, all we have is
enough cash for a quick drink

and a taxi ride to the airport.

- Bloody bucket?
- You know that's right.

Jolly good.

Well, Gus, at least we got
to take in

some of the sights
of old London town.

Uh, Shawn, we went
to one pub and a warehouse.

We might as well have been
in British Columbia.

What the--

Room temperature, my ass.

Are you kidding me?

Wait.

Oh, my gosh.

- Dude, that's the Dutchman.
- Rutger Hauer? Where?

No! Wim Stuyvesant.
He's a fake.

He's a homeless dude with real
urine stains on his pants.

Or he's back undercover

as a hobo with fake urine stains
on his pants.

That makes no sense, Shawn.

Breaking up an international
panhandling ring.

Come on, son.
We were set up.

Or we weren't.

What do you choose to believe?

I choose the latter.

I choose beauty.

It's just like Life of Pi.

It's nothing
like the Life of Pi.

Which makes you the tiger,
Richard Parker.