God!
No, it's not going down. Give me another one.
-Please! -Another one!
Another syringe!
Come on.
What's going on?
Okay, that's it.
That's it.
How much time is left?
Five seconds.
Doors are unlocked. Everyone, get ready. Come on!
Get ready! Masks on, now!
Ready! Fire smoke bombs!
Be quiet!
Be quiet, for fuck's sake! It's just smoke.
Not yet. Hold on.
Helicopters, descend in 30 seconds.
Now! We're going out! Come on!
-Now! Quickly! Everyone out. -Come on!
We're going out!
Everyone out! Quickly!
We're heading out!
Come on! Out!
Hurry!
What the hell?
-We can't get in. -We have to abort.
I don't care about the balconies. If they have hostages there,
we'll knock down the door.
Armored units, advance!
Come on! They're just outside the door!
I'll open the door. You'll go out, holding up this box.
Is that right, orphan?
Damn it.
They're opening the doors.
All the better.
Let's hit them with everything we have. Now!
-I'm telling you to get out there. -Nobody move.
Get out there, now!
Special forces are about to arrive. No one move.
What are you going to do?
Are you going to shoot us like they shot your daddy?
Nobody move! Denver! What are you doing?
Denver!
What are you doing, Denver?
Here's the big surprise, little brother. It's just what you're thinking.
White flag!
What is he doing?
White flag!
Target in sight.
Denver!
I have a clear shot at him. Target in the crosshairs.
Requesting permission to fire, sir.
Requesting permission to fire. I repeat, permission to fire.
A state can allow you to provoke the army out onto the streets.
They can allow you to get into the national reserve
and even steal their gold,
but there's something they can't tolerate,
something they can't let happen.
A state can't allow you to get into their secrets.
If we get those red boxes out, and they see them,
it'll only take them a second to realize what we've got our hands on,
and they'll be ours.
Those sons of bitches.
Because those 24 boxes...
hold the secrets of the Ministry of the Interior,
the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Intelligence,
and even how they spend the state reserve funds.
The state's cesspool of corruption!
Everything that the system can't allow to be made public.
Otherwise, they'll go down the drain where they've hidden their own excrement.
Sons of bitches!
Stop the attack!
I repeat. Abort.
We'll respect the white flag and withdraw.
Is it possible these bastards are diving inside the vault?
I don't know, Colonel.
-I don't know. -For God's sake!
Yes!
Hey!
Gay sex is the best sex in the world. Do you know why?
It's obvious. Because there are no women involved.
You're not gay, you're a misogynist.
-I bet you were born in a cauldron. -No, young lady.
Don't confuse misogyny with biology.
It's about facts. It's very simple.
As men, we need to expel our poison, all right?
Every few hours, we need to boom, boom.
Afterwards, we feel revulsion towards whatever we expelled it into.
It doesn't matter what it is, we reject it. So we say, "Ciao."
Boom, boom, ciao.
-Beautiful. -Homosexual sex.
Sex between two women is also homosexual.
Boom, boom, ciao.
Two men meet, and they relieve each other.
Boom, boom, ciao. They don't know each other's names. Great.
Know what's great?
The way women can get it on.
And we can do it ten times in a row...
-or more. -With multiple orgasms.
Coming for hours, and not in five seconds.
I'm not saying God didn't give you the ability to feel pleasure.
Saying that would be misogynistic. I am simply saying you don't need it.
-All right, then. -It's not as essential for you
as it is for men. Allow me to explain.
The world is full of saunas where men meet up and relieve each other.
Public parks and restrooms, where we meet and boom, boom, ciao.
It's seminal altruism. Now, where are the saunas for women?
-We don't need them. -Oh, you don't?
-Of course not. -They don't exist.
Where are the public restrooms where you rub beavers?
Where are they? They don't exist.
And I'll tell you why. It's controversial.
That's because female sexuality is conditioned by procreation.
That is, in some way or another,
you're looking for a man to exchange genes with,
to start a family.
It's revolting.
You have too many things on your mind.
We have only one. Ejaculating.
That's why we do boom, boom, ciao.
Boom, boom, ciao.
Homosexual sex!
Boom, boom, ciao.
Look, your theory is bullshit, but the rhythm is catchy.
No.
-Boom, boom, ciao. -I'm out of here.
Boom, boom, ciao.
-Professor! -Boom, boom, ciao.
Come on, Professor.
Professor!
-Boom, boom, ciao. -Homosexual sex.
-Boom, boom, ciao. -Loosen up!
-Loosen up, Professor! -Boom, boom, ciao.
Boom, boom, ciao.
Let's say good night, then.
I can leave if you want. No problem.
Okay.
We have to be practical, Helsinki.
You were great. You're a virtuoso. It's fair to say so.
But you and I are professionals...
unlike the rest of the idiots in this gang, right?
Right.
Can you imagine going in there with emotional baggage?
It'd be ridiculous, don't you think? We got our poison out.
We did the boom, boom, and now...
And now, ciao.
No baggage.
Well, now we're blood brothers.
Brothers, comrades, something like that. Right?
Yeah, brothers.
What's wrong?
It's best if I sleep here.
-Tomorrow... is a big day. -He fucked you and kicked you out.
What a disgusting prick!
-Between men, that's how it is. -You're not like that.
I've been traveling the world with you for two years,
and you're a teddy bear, honey.
If you could spend the next 12 hours
latching onto him like a koala, you'd be happy.
We're colleagues. Brothers.
You're not his brother!
Helsinki... you need to love yourself more.
And get over the asshole who's just using you.
The next time he tells you, "Boom, boom," you tell him, "Ciao."
And that he can stick his boom-boom up his own ass.
Okay.
Helsi.
Do you love him?
Brothers.
God damn it.
Some days are weird.
You should be in an important meeting, but just a few minutes ago,
you were clinically dead and dressed as a diver.
You're still in the wet suit,
and you don't really know if you're dead or alive.
You feel like you have all the hangovers in the world at once,
and you ask yourself...
"Is this hell?
What did I do wrong?" You didn't do anything wrong.
Well, not more than anyone else.
You were just in the wrong place... at the worst possible time.
Governor?
Governor.
Your heart almost burst.
We've given you tons of Diazepam. Lie down.
I'm perfectly fine.
Easy. Careful. Be careful.
If you're feeling all right, come with me.
I'm going to show you this beauty we've built.
Come, Governor. Look.
Look. What do you smell? Smell!
What does that smell like?
That's right! It smells like nothing! Industrial extractors.
We take the gas, we send it through the machine,
we liquefy it, and then...
it goes into the vault.
Zero air pollution.
Still, be careful tomorrow,
because there will be zinc and carbon dioxide up the wazoo.
Here... we're melting 52 gold bars per hour.
We are flying.
Those are state assets.
And we aren't wasting a single drop.
We've already melted 1,600 kilograms. Isn't that right?
-How many days was I unconscious? -Four hours.
Come here, Governor. This is the best part.
Look, look at that.
Look, Governor. This is the best part. Look.
Come.
Look how it pours out.
So beautiful!
Good afternoon, Governor. Chorizo?
Here, we turn the liquid gold into pellets.
Gold nuggets, like grains of rice.
We do it all with bubbles.
It's addictive.
Look at these!
Top-quality birdseed, Governor.
Miss, what you're doing here will have countless consequences.
That's the lesson: nothing is free.
Everything we do has consequences.
Almost a million people surround the Bank of Spain.
The government is under intense pressure. And the big question, Sara Solomando,
what was in those boxes that made the police
and the army call off the attack?
For now, Cristina, the only official response is silence.
But since the attack was called off, state cars have been arriving
with high-ranking officials. The minister of the interior,
the secretary of state for foreign affairs,
and chief of the Defense Staff.
Each car has been subjected to egging by the crowd.
And so, the consequences began to arrive.
The minister of the interior, the chief of the defense staff,
they arrived at the command center during the four hours
the governor had been unconscious.
The prime minister wants the crowd dispersed immediately.
Tell him that if we disperse the crowd with water cannons,
we'll have twice as many protesters tomorrow.
The European Union is demanding information.
They want to know if the boxes' contents implicate them.
Of course they do, but we can't let them suspect that.
Understood?
Your job is to reduce diplomatic pressure so I can do my job.
The problem is they know that it's something big.
They saw how the Spanish forces aborted an offensive against seven criminals.
Colonel Tamayo had tried his best,
but in a calculated move,
the Professor and Berlin's plan had changed the chess game.
One move,
and now they were the ones in check,
the king and the rest of the state institutions.
The contents of those 24 boxes took less than an hour to reach Pakistan.
Our legion of hackers opened a secure, undetectable backdoor
through an unregistered satellite.
If we published that information, they were dead...
and they knew it.
What's the extent of the leak?
Colonel?
Minister?
The extent of the leak...
Europe provoking a war in Libya for private interests.
Payments to Morocco to abandon immigrants in the desert.
A secret agreement to look the other way in the Mediterranean.
Seventy-four shipwrecks that could've been avoided,
hundreds of drownings.
Even if it's old news, all the details
on the creation of a terrorist group in the South of France. Want more?
The contents of those boxes implicate this administration and those before it.
Spain, the European Union, and NATO are all going to be in deep shit.
And what's worse...
we'll be committing professional suicide. You, you, you, and me.
Are we willing to end up in court? Is that what the prime minister wants?
Is there any prime minister in Europe who wants to go to jail?
That's the extent of the damn leak.
We can't negotiate with that man.
If he has the secrets, he will always be a threat.
So?
What do you propose we do?
There's only one thing we can do. You all know that.
Good afternoon.
For those who don't know me, I'm Alicia Sierra.
I'm going to be in charge of the negotiation of the robbery.
Let's get the party started.
I want three little things. I know you can handle it.
I want to know how much gasoline they have inside
for the emergency generators.
Secondly,
bring in the underground teams so they can tell me what's down there.
Tunnels, passages, sewers.
Okay? And third...
Antoñanzas.
-Antoñanzas? -Yes, Inspector?
Okay. Doughnuts, licorice, lollipops, and that melon-flavored gum that crackles.
My hormones are raging,
and I need to seem like a sweet, empathetic woman
when I talk to that wimpy Professor. How's it going?
Great. I'm leaving you in charge.
Okay. Let's go.
-Martínez. -Inspector.
We're trying to triangulate the calls.
Inspector.
In what country was he being held?
Why was he brought to Spain on a secret flight?
The pregnant woman who tortures.
Even the monkeys in Madagascar will recognize me.
He tumbled like a rag doll.
Go and get me my gum.
ALLEGED ILLEGAL INTERROGATION
I look fat in this clip.
I look fat.
Okay, yesterday, we were discussing how to buy time
if we're arrested here, in Spain.
But what happens if we manage to rob the Royal Mint,
escape with the money,
and then, after some time, Interpol arrests us in a foreign country?
In all likelihood, they will hold us in that country to...
well, to make use of what they call "enhanced interrogation techniques."
Torture.
The only good news is that,
at some point, we can use it to our advantage.
Using torture to our advantage? Cool. Why didn't I think of that?
Even if they sidestep the law
and the laws guaranteeing our rights, sooner or later,
they'll have to bring us back to Spain, and that means transfers and vans.
That's when you'll have to look
completely destroyed because there's always someone watching.
And if the people see and feel that brutality...
that's when we'll have our chance to negotiate.
Were you in the bathroom?
Yes.
Did you go to leave your solid waste in the shared bathroom at noon?
To shit? Yeah, I went to take a shit. Is that a problem?
That's the bathroom we all use. What if I have to go now?
Then light a damn match.
Or plug up your nose with that finger you always have up your ass
that makes you so uptight. You have options.
Do you know what smell is? Smells are particles.
Particles that were in the muck of your intestines,
peacefully floating around, until they came out...
with your waste, out your anus, devastating everything!
And now I have to accept them entering my nose?
Hold your damn nose, then. What, you don't shit?
Every day, religiously, like clockwork, but in the wee hours of the morning.
Firstly, because I value my privacy, but mostly out of respect!
-Respect, you say? -Out of respect.
I don't think anyone should have to inhale my shit particles.
Let's not get too refined.
It starts with a taboo about taking a dump
and ends with us calling each other "sir" and "ma'am."
-I like being called "sir." -Really?
Look.
I know I'm not an elegant man like you, sir.
I know I don't know as many things as you do, sir.
And I only know how to make holes
where no one else would dare make them.
But most importantly,
I know how to risk my life for my team...
if necessary.
And now, the question is...
are you part of my team or not?
Would I risk my life for you?
That's the question.
The answer is that,
despite your crude habits and your fondness for crossword puzzles,
if we go in together...
we come out together.
So, are we all friends again? Yes?
Great, because what we were talking about is very important.
We all run the risk of being arrested.
Let's see.
Palermo, can you see anything with that eye?
I see your Russian Orthodox beard, you damn Serbian.
Or is it Jeremiah Johnson's beard?
What I don't see is the damn mule. Where did you leave it?
-I can see fine, big man. -Let's see the other eye.
Let's see.
Don't worry. Your eye needs to heal. It will be better tomorrow.
Let's put the patch on.
I'm going to find you a cane.
Palermo, are you there?
-This is Eagle Eye. I'm here. -Is Tokyo there?
Yes, she's here.
Professor.
Tokyo...
Rio is in Spain.
Thank you. I hope I'll be able to hug you...
-and thank you in person very soon. -Of course you will.
The most difficult part is yet to come, but we'll get there.
We'll get it done.
All actions,
all of them,
have consequences.
And, for the police...
Colonel!
...in their darkest moment,
a light would appear.
-We've started triangulating the signal. -Like for a cell phone?
It isn't as precise, by a long shot.
The UIT has receivers everywhere in Spain.
The signal is reaching Galicia, Alicante, and even the rest of Europe.
The important thing is it's stronger in the south of the peninsula.
-I think they're transmitting from there. -How precise is this?
This is the radius.
He's coordinating the robbery from the beach?
On vacation with cousin Rosita?
Come on!
It doesn't make sense for him to be close. He did that in the previous robbery.
He'll be expecting us to search every building in the area.
So they went to Portugal, Andalusia, or Morocco?
Anywhere's safer than Madrid.
All he needs is a phone and a radio.
Colonel, he knows our protocols.
There aren't any for conducting an investigation 600 kilometers
from where a hostage crisis is taking place.
How about you go there?
-Well, the area is still very wide. -God damn it, Angel!
-We need to narrow it down first. -Go there, right now.
I need your absolute discretion.
I would rather have you there than a couple of small-town Civil Guards
who would only scare him off. Martínez, come here!
Yes.
You're going to assist him.
-Look into this signal. Nothing else. -Okay.
And this doesn't leave this tent. Don't tell anyone.
I would love to go on a trip like this with you some weekend.
I mean, without having to rob anything.
-Sure, it could be our honeymoon. -Yeah.
Well, for that, we'd need to get married first.
I already live with your mother. Getting married wouldn't be an issue.
Excuse me?
-What the hell was that? -Excuse me?
Marrying me wouldn't be an issue?
What was that? A chickenshit marriage proposal?
You just put it out there, and then you wuss out?
-It was just a comment. -Forget it. You're making it worse.
Call Marseille, go on.
Sure.
Hey...
if you want to marry me,
ask me the right way.
Look for a place to pull over.
Inspector, it's him.
Professor.
Inspector Sierra? How nice. I was looking forward to talking with you.
Yes, I know you like to negotiate with policewomen.
Aren't you going to ask me what I'm wearing?
Maternity clothes, I suppose.
You're so old-fashioned!
Are you one of those men who wear undershirts?
Actually, I am, but...
Inspector, the classics never go out of style. Don't you think?
Also, you can look like Pablo Escobar in an undershirt
or like Marlon Brando in A Streetcar Named Desire.
Touché.
Tell me something.
Have you ever filmed yourself making love?
Let me think...
No, honestly, I haven't.
I guess I've always had qualms about it because I'm a shy man.
In that case, I can help you out. Raquel!
You're listening, right?
Raquel?
Hello, Alicia. It's been a long time.
A long time, yes.
I'm surprised the Professor has reservations
about asking you to make a sex tape.
You did it during your second year at the academy. With Hortigosa.
Holy shit.
Alicia, you disappoint me.
Listen, I'm going to tell you what you're doing.
You're trying to take control of the conversation
by acting friendly,
only to drop a bomb to try to divide us.
Negotiation 101.
Not at all. I was just having fun.
I'm dropping the bomb now.
Since you've been classified as terrorists,
I've got the CIA, Europol,
and basically everyone searching for your mother and your daughter.
I don't know where they are,
but I'm guessing you didn't escape to Norway,
but to a tropical paradise with an ineffective police force.
Southeast Asia, for example.
That's what I would do.
But do you know the bad thing about those countries, Raquel?
You tell me, Alicia.
The jails.
They're disgusting.
Overcrowding, infections...
drugs, and murders...
All kinds of things. Imagine your mother in there.
At her age and with how confused she gets. And Paula?
Oh, little Paula!
Considering how long I can stall an extradition,
I can't imagine her there, crying. Well, actually, I can. Crying every night
in an orphanage in Jakarta. Damn, poor girl.
Congratulations, Raquel. Great job. You bagged yourself a wuss.
You've lost your family for the kind of man who only wants sex once a month.
If you give me the Professor, I'll leave them alone.
Why did you tell her that?
Because this is a game of cards, and I went all-in.
This will fuck them up for a while. That's what the game's about.
Fucking with them.
Right?
Calm down.
-She was bluffing. -You lost control of the conversation.
You took my control away.
She was playing you. She manipulated you.
Me?
-And she played you like a puppet! -She manipulated you!
She hung up, and we didn't even play our hand.
She went after you because you're the weak link.
Hey, mutt!
-Bring me water. -What did you call me?
Mutt.
But I can also call you doner kebab, gypsy, or melon seller.
Do you think you're in a position to be riding my ass?
Nah. I don't want to even imagine how many people have ridden it already.
You're Gandía, aren't you?
Is it just me, or is there a lot of negativity in the air?
Very bad vibes.
Take me to him, I want to talk to him.
Leave us alone.
He's sitting in front of you.
I smell sulfur.
I don't see very well, but...
I'm developing other senses...
and my intuition tells me you don't respect us.
It's what jerks in masks deserve.
They don't command respect.
A logical thought coming from someone of your rank,
but you're wrong about me.
You watched too much TV. You think we're Robin Hood?
That we're adorable teddy bears in Dalí masks?
What I think is that you're a one-eyed, sudaca, faggot son of a bitch.
Sudaca.
Yes, I'm from South America. That's true.
But from the German school. The school of Berlin.
Don't move!
I love piñatas.
-Don't move! -Son of a bitch!
-Palermo! -Don't move!
I am the sudaca who's come to reclaim the gold you all plundered, asshole.
Denver, stop him!
Palermo! Denver, stop him!
Gold bathed in South American blood! Satanist!
-You fucking reptile! -Enough!
Kill me. If not, I'll rip your intestines out of your ass
-with a pair of pliers. -I'm going to kill him!
Son of a bitch! Come here!
-I'm going to kill you! -Nobody move!
Come here and hit me harder! Hit me harder, son of a bitch!
Son of a bitch!
Come here!
You've brought us down to the same fucking level as the Taliban.
What were you trying to prove? That you're in control?
Beating a guy who's tied up?
All that proves is you're a piece of shit!
Then untie him, and I'll beat that bastard with just one hand!
Bring him here!
This fucking psycho is who the Professor put in charge?
No. Listen to me, Palermo. We have a plan, and we have rules.
The Professor's rules. And we have to obey them.
Where the hell is the Professor?
Where is Mr. Professor? He's never here!
Raise your hand if you have the scepter of command!
I have the scepter of command! I'm in charge!
-Silence! -Easy.
I'm going to explain something to you about the rules.
Any son of a bitch...
who dares to insult any member of the team,
I will break his skull.
And you will keep your mouth shut. Okay, mutt?
Unless you want to open your mouth and thank me
for defending you, for example. What do you say?
I don't need a piece of crap like you to defend me.
Don't you realize that in the same way you beat up a defenseless guy,
I could grab my rifle, crack your skull, knock you out...
and take charge?
Really?
Helsinki, tie her up.
Bind her hand and foot, and take her to the forge for mutiny. Right now.
Don't even think about it. Helsi!
-Nairobi. -Helsi.
"Helsi"?
"Oh, Helsi."
Sorry. Correct me if I'm wrong,
but you've brought your emotional baggage into this.
Am I right?
Do you really think you can be Helsinki's wife?
What, Nairobi? Pursuing an impossible love? Why?
Are you fooling yourself, smart cookie? Or do you want to play mommy?
I regret to inform you the only role you can take on now
is that of the faggot's friend.
You're the fucking fag hag. I'm sorry. Helsinki loves me.
I'm sorry.
Let me tell you a few things you should know
because you're old enough.
In romantic relationships, there is the lover and the beloved.
The lover lives with passion, pure devotion, and romanticism.
The beloved...
is limited to being worshipped.
I'm not saying being a lover is bad.
Don't get me wrong, please.
But do you know what?
Lovers suffer a lot, dear.
Whereas I have my fun.
The only thing I get from our relationship is sex.
It's the fucking law of love. I'm sorry. That's just how it is.
The only miserable one in this whole story...
is you.
With your speeches about love and "boom, boom, ciao."
That's because... you're too much of a coward to admit the truth.
The only truth is reality.
And I'm going to explain it to you. Look. You love big man.
Big man loves me.
And I don't love anyone. And that's exactly why...
you hate me.
You don't love anyone?
Of course you don't, honey.
You don't have the balls to.
You need courage to love.
I have courage. Look.
Helsi...
I love you. I love you so much...
that I would have a family with you.
See? This is bravery.
I feel it, and I say it.
And you don't know how to do that.
How long was it?
You were in love with Berlin for ten years,
and you never dared to tell him?
Of course, you worshiped him and followed him around like a puppy...
but that's all.
Now what? You lost your chance.
He's dead.
And you're empty inside.
The only thing you can do now is hide
behind that damn "boom, boom, ciao" speech because...
because you know.
You've been left behind forever, friend.
Let's get back to work.
Subtitle translation by Carolina Daza León