The Royal Art of Blackmail The Royal Bodyguard

Ah, back at your old stomping ground, I see, Hubble.

The Palace car park.

I've got a little present for the boys at the gatehouse.

What do you think?

What is it?

I made it at the weekend.

It's a Mini-Metro wing mirror and a torch taped to a golf club.

Ideal for under-car surveillance.

Excuse me, I'll show you.

You see, now, with this, you can scan the entire

underside of the vehicle

and with the torch, of course, you can view any...

Hubble, I don't think...

No. Stay back, stay back, please. I know exactly what I'm doing.

HE STRAINS

EXHAUST RATTLES

Can I give you a hand with that?

OK, you get in there, I'll pass it to you.

There we go. Got that in?

OK, carry on.

Captain Hubble, Sir Edward.

Ah, morning, Hubble.

Good morning, sir.

Thank you for coming so quickly.

I take it you heard about yesterday's burglary at the Palace.

Burglary?! No, sir.

But frankly, I'm not surprised.

I have mentioned on a number of occasions to Colonel Whittington

how sloppy some of the security personnel have become.

-And Colonel Whittington for you, Sir Edward.

-Ah, come in, Dennis.

I was just updating Hubble on yesterday's burglary.

Shameful, sir. Shameful.

Needless to say, Her Majesty is furious.

Are we any the wiser?

Well, we do seem to have one very obvious lead, sir.

-Oh.

-May I?

We've trawled yesterday's CCTV footage.

You can only imagine our surprise.

Thank you, sir.

Well, Hubble?

He looks familiar.

What?

I've got a feeling that I've seen him before.

It's YOU, Hubble!

What?

Good grief, so it is!

What's going on, Hubble?

Sir, I was coming back from the car park

and I saw these two men struggling with something.

-A £2 million Titian.

-Was it?

Well, anyway I said I'd give them a hand to get it into their van.

Along with a Reubens, a Gainsborough and two Stubbs!

How, Hubble? How?

Because the man's a buffoon, sir.

Four men enter the palace unchallenged

and walk out with millions of pounds worth of art,

aided and abetted by The Royal Bodyguard!?

What am I going to tell Her Majesty?

I'm sorry, sir.

I have no other option... than to tender my resignation.

Accepted.

Her Majesty deserves the best

and I'm afraid I've let her down.

I'll book you a cab. We'll send your things on in a box.

KNOCKING

Palace on line two.

Oh... Gentlemen, would you mind waiting here?

I'll take it outside.

Can I get you both something to drink?

How about some Champagne?

-Sorry?

-Oh, let your hair down, Miss Gifford. You only live once!

Builders' tea or instant?

So, it's goodbye, Hubble.

I always knew it was only a matter of time.

Well, that's what I kept telling myself in the dark hours of the night.

Oh, sometimes life can spring upon you untold joys.

Don't you agree, Miss Gifford?

That was Her Majesty herself.

She attaches no blame to Hubble.

-What?!

-No.

She won't hear a word against him.

It's the fools who let the van in that she's got in her sights.

She wants Hubble to monitor the investigation,

in partnership with Scotland Yard.

I would be honoured, sir.

-But he's resigned!

-Dennis...

-Did you tell Her Majesty he's resigned?

-She is adamant.

Report to me ASAP.

Yes, sir.

Thank you, sir.

And don't worry, sir.

I won't let you down.

Oh, just get back...

What on earth are you doing?

Sorry?

Oh, I'm so sorry. Sorry. it just, er, fell off the wall.

I think the thieves must have been tampering with this one as well.

If you could just...

Thank you.

HE LAUGHS NERVOUSLY

-Sir Ambrose Hamilton, isn't it?

-It is.

Yes. Guy Hubble, Royal Bodyguard.

Please don't let me stop you.

I would just like to ask you a few questions, if I may?

So, what's it like being the Surveyor of The Queen's Paintings?

It is a great honour.

So, could you tell me something about these stolen pictures?

They're the crown jewels of the Queen's collection.

The most valuable paintings in this room.

So, you're saying that the thieves must have been well informed?

They must have been.

Or well briefed,

by someone who was an acknowledged expert...

Are you all right?

Sorry, what?

Yes, no, fine. Fine.

Just...you know, just checking.

For, uh...footprints.

There aren't any. It's all right.

You do know there's no back to this settee, don't you?

It's a Louis Quinze chaise longue.

Well, it's a pity Louis didn't finish it.

Her Majesty deserves something a little better at her age,

don't you think? I mean, something with a bit of support.

You can't expect an elderly lady...

DOOR OPENS

Ah! There you are, sir.

I was just running through a few things with Sir Ambrose.

Yes, sir. Ahem...

I have my suspicions about Sir Ambrose.

He's as good as admitted

that the thieves knew exactly what paintings to take.

Now who could be better to advise them

than the Surveyor of the Queen's Paintings?

I suggest we interview him properly.

You know, we do the old "good cop, bad cop" routine.

-Hubble...

-Sir, there is something wrong.

I know there is. I can feel it in my water. Trust me.

Sorry about that, Sir Ambrose.

This is Colonel Whittington.

He and I would like to ask you a few more questions, if we may.

Would you like to sit down?

I really am rather busy.

Yes, I'm sure. Yes, of course.

Can I offer you a mint?

Where were you yesterday, Sir Ambrose?

At an auction house all day.

-Do you have witnesses to corroborate that?

-I do. A number.

So you can provide us with a list of those witnesses, I suppose?

-Fine. No problem at all.

-Oh, good.

Sir, just a sec.

Sorry. I've forgotten. Am I good cop or bad cop?

-Bad cop.

-Bad cop. Thank you, sir.

OK, come on. Give me my mint back.

-I'm sucking it.

-I don't care. Hand it over.

Come on. There you are.

Is it usual for picture restorers to come to the Palace?

Once or twice a year, yes.

Answer the question!

I just have!

And you would always authorise such a visit?

I would.

All right.

Why are you wearing carpet slippers in the Palace?

I suffer from corns.

Oh, all right.

So do you have any idea where the thieves got hold of an authorisation

bearing your signature?

Well, a forgery, obviously.

Ah!

Hubble!

What are you doing?

Sorry, sir, a tiger seems to have attached itself to my foot.

Careful, that's a present from the tenth Maharajah of Jaipur!

I can't get it off!

-Hubble!

-Yes, sir!

Keep your foot still!

I can't! Ouch!

Ow!

Sir? We've just...

-We got a call demanding £5 million in return for the paintings.

-What?

We don't think it's a crank call, but they want the money

delivered tomorrow at a location of their choosing.

Sir Edward is liaising with Number Ten.

Sir. Let me be the man

who hands over the money at a location of their own choosing.

I'll get the art back, sir.

-Hubble, no!

-It would be putting Hubble in great danger, sir.

Ah, there you are, sir.

I've got you a frothy coffee, sir.

-What?

-It's made with soya milk. Frothy coffee.

-Ever had a frothy coffee with soya milk?

-No.

I'm trying to give up dairy products, sir, so...

Try it, try it. Frothy coffee.

-Hubble.

-Sir?

I've got £5 million in this case,

over 40 officers committed to the operation.

Stop prattling on about frothy coffee!

Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.

Now take the money.

Wait in the park until approached.

Are you wearing your wire?

Of course I'm wearing a wire, sir.

Is it plugged in?

Yes, of course it's...

Yes. Yes, it's plugged in.

I have ten marksmen in situ.

Right.

We'll be watching for you to be approached.

Now remember,

don't release the money.

Your job is to lead us to the art

and the centre of their organisation.

Yes, of course.

You've got the right man for the job, sir.

Hubble, I can't stress how much the Treasury are keen

that you don't lose the money.

Absolutely, sir.

Well, sir.

I won't salute, if you don't mind,

as I don't want to draw attention to myself.

-Good idea.

-Thank you, sir.

-Hubble.

-Oh?

You forgot the money.

Forgot the money. Of course.

Sorry, sir. Thank you.

You're meant to handcuff it to your wrist.

Of course. Handcuff to my wrist.

Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.

Were you given the number to the combination lock?

Yes, sir. 301.

It's the combined ages of my mother, my father, my Aunt Sybil,

and her son's dog Mumps when they died.

I thought I was rather clever with that one,

because I worked out Mumps' age in dog years.

You could have just added 3, 0 and 1, and come up with your IQ score.

Sorry, sir, run that past me again. I didn't quite understand it.

Remember, you've clung onto this job by the skin of your teeth

-but one more cock-up...

-Don't worry, sir. You can rely on me.

-Your bill, sir.

-It's all right, sir.

I'll get the bill.

TEA SPLASHES, CHINA CLATTERS

Your trousers are drying on the radiator, sir.

-Thank you, Yates.

-What happened to them?

Hubble spilt coffee over them.

'Actually, it was soya frothy coffee, sir.'

Hubble, this channel is to remain open, but you are to be quiet.

-Understood?

-'Yes, sir.'

INSECT BUZZING

What's going on, sir?

God alone knows.

Hubble.

You're meant to be keeping a low profile.

'There's a vicious bee, sir.

'Actually, it's gone now.'

'Ah! Sorry, sir! It's back again.'

BUZZING RESUMES

'Definitely gone now, sir. Standing by for the approach.'

-There you go.

-Thank you.

Excuse me.

Standing by. This could be the approach.

-Can you help an old soldier to the gents, young man?

-Of course.

Lean on me.

I'm not too good on my feet these days.

All those years marching.

Mmm.

Oh, here we go.

OK. Let's go.

Green light! Green light!

In you go, Yates.

-Me, sir?

-Yes. Get on with it.

Come on, they've got Hubble.

More importantly, they've got the £5 million.

STRUGGLING, BANGING

Ah! Ow!

Come on, let's go!

GEARS GRIND

What's going on? Where are we going?

Sir! Sir! I'm being kidnapped! They're taking me to...

-We'll take this wire, if you don't mind.

-Ow!

And the case! Without the handcuffs.

No, I've lost the key.

It must have fallen out as you pulled me down the tunnel.

-Show us the money, then.

-No.

I'll show you the money when you show me the art!

We see the money or we see your brains.

-Look, it's a combination lock.

-What's the number?

Wait a minute. I'm just trying to remember.

My mother's age...plus, uh...

-What's 12 times 7?

-What?

That's the age of Mumps when he died.

-Mumps?

-Yes, well, you see,

my cousin had a dog to cheer him up when he had the mumps.

That's how we called the dog Mumps.

-Just do it!

-All right! I'm...

Look, you're flustering me now.

We'll go back to base. Hack open the case there.

Or just hack his arm off.

No, wait a minute. Ah. I think I'm remembering now.

Sir!

-It runs right through from the toilets.

-Good God.

Wasn't...

wasn't there an ice cream van parked here?

So...Hubble has gone missing

-with the £5 million?

-Yes, sir.

-Oh, God.

-But don't worry, sir.

Hubble's under strict instructions not to lose the money.

Ah! I've done it. I've done it!

-Here, hand it over.

-No, no.

This is Her Majesty's money

and you do not get it until she gets her paintings back!

-Give it here!

-No!

-Give it here!

No! Will you stop it!

No!

No!

Aagh!

Police!

Police! Police!

The van! Move!

'If you leave your number, he'll call you back.'

No, I'll hold.

KNOCKING

Excuse me, sir. We've had a report of hundreds of £50 notes being scattered in Buckinghamshire.

-And the serial numbers match.

-Any sign of Hubble?

Er...no. No, sir.

At least we've got the money.

Ow!

Ow!

What took you?

Sir Ambrose!

Yes, Hubble.

Me.

I knew it! I knew you were up to no good.

Well, you were right.

I knew it, I could feel it in my water.

You thought you could outsmart everyone.

Well, you couldn't outsmart Captain...

Oh, do shut up!

Where have you been?

-It's his fault.

-What?

What?

-We've lost most of the money.

-What happened?

He opened his case by the window. It scattered all over the county.

How much have we got?

-About 300 quid.

-£300?!

You ought to be ashamed of yourself, betraying Her Majesty...!

I say we split the money and run.

I haven't planned all this for £300.

No. Nothing's changed.

We still have the paintings.

The ransom is still five million.

PHONE RINGS

Hastings.

-'Sir Edward?'

-Yes?

-'A call for you.'

-Right.

'We have a friend of yours.'

And that friend has managed to lose our money.

'We're going to need another five million.'

I can't get that.

You will.

Otherwise, Hubble here will suffer,

horribly.

They're bluffing.

How do we know that Hubble is still alive?

Talk to your boss.

Captain Hubble here, sir.

Hubble! Are you all right?

I think...

they're going to milk me, sir.

MACHINE WHIRRS

'Milk you?'

-Yes. Like a cow, sir.

-'What?'

Well, they're going to hook me up to this machine unless you pay up.

I was right about Sir Ambrose!

Five million in cash,

in two hours.

Poor Hubble.

I can't believe it was Sir Ambrose.

I mean, he's a Knight of the Realm.

I always had my suspicions, of course.

But he's...a Knight of the Realm!

I think we've got something, sir. We've found the ice cream van.

It's been well over an hour. I say we kill him.

-You think they'll pay the money then?

-You said this was a doddle.

-Nothing could go wrong, you said.

-I wasn't expecting YOU

-to throw the money out the window!

-Phone your man,

find out what the hell's happening.

SIRENS BLARE

-I'm off.

-Yeah, me too!

Come back!

It looks like they've left you in the lurch, Sir Ambrose.

No.

I've still got you for company.

You're coming with me.

No, you're coming with me!

No. You're coming...

with me.

HELICOPTER HOVERS

It's OK, yes...

I'm the Royal Bodyguard.

Everything is... everything's under control.

Shoot to kill. Don't worry if you miss.

-Do we have authorisation on that, sir?

-Nobody will mind, I promise.

Back off or he gets it!

OK, we have a mobile hostage situation, everyone.

Change now. Third.

GEARS GRIND, ENGINE REVS

No, third, not fifth.

It's you! You're over-revving.

Oh, just change gear.

What have you done now?

VAN JINGLE PLAYS

I must have pressed one of these buttons here.

-Turn it off!

-All right.

MOTOR HUMS

That's the refrigeration unit.

I don't know, do I?

It's the first time I've been in one of these things.

-For God's sake, we're making ice cream now!

-Good.

I can bring you a 99 when you're in your prison cell!

Do be quiet, you tedious little man.

You'll never get away with this. Just turn yourself in.

-Never!

-Where are we going anyway?

Windsor. That's where the Queen is.

If the old girl wants her pictures back, she can pay for them.

How dare you speak about Her Majesty

in such a disrespectful way?! And...

-Look out! Look out!

-I can't see anything!

GUNSHOT

Put your foot on the brake!

Brake, man, will you!

CRASH

VAN MUSIC GURGLES TUNELESSLY

What's the story, Yates?

Well, a nasty way to go, sir.

Oh! Yes.

Any sign of Hubble?

I doubt he would have survived it, sir.

The refrigeration unit's been on for ten hours, and...

SOLID KNOCK

15 below zero, sir.

So, it looks like you'll be the Royal Bodyguard now, Yates.

We're finally rid of Guy Hubble.

Did you hear that?

No, sir.

Yates. Get up there.

Sir, I think you better come and take a look at this.

BREATHING

C-captain Hubble,

re-reporting for duty, s-s-sir.

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd

E-mail [email protected]