Layer Cake Page #2

- Your guests, Mr. Price.

- Thanks, Angelo. Welcome. Sit down.

How is it with that

Paki accountant I put your way?

- He still doing the business?

- Raj is doing a very good job.

Good. Paying your bit

of straight-goer's tax, eh?

We all have to do our bit.

Say hello from me

next time you see him.

You hungry? The grub here

will make your bollocks tingle.

Let's eat.

Right.

We've gotta test the "snap, crackle

and pop" factor on these.

Don't ask me.

I ain't f***ing touching them.

You are a miserable bastard,

you really are.

- Brian.

- What?

Sit down, mate.

Got a little treat for you.

Help yourself.

A little privacy, please, Angelo.

What do you want, son?

- Excuse me?

- In life. What are you after?

A shot at the title?

A seat by the band?

Well, I don't know, Mr. Price.

That's a very expansive question.

Right, expansive. Good answer.

Years ago, people would've

thought you were a homosexual...

...using a word like "expansive."

- You're not a homosexual, are you?

- No.

- Not behind with the rent?

- No.

No, I didn't think you were.

No harm in it, I suppose.

Times change.

You know why people like you

can't leave this business?

Because you make too much money

for people like me.

Anyway, I'll get to the point.

I need a favor.

I need someone who's a bit cute,

a smooth operator.

Not a two-a-penny loudmouth.

Too many grasses around.

- It would be a pleasure, Mr. Price.

- Jimmy. You can call me Jimmy.

Now, this favor. It's not for me, truth

be told. It's for a good friend of mine.

Like a blood brother.

We were at school together.

Now he's a right wheeler-dealer.

Flinging up skyscrapers.

His wife's a proper blue blood.

I'll give you a clue. Eddie Temple.

Does that name

mean anything to you?

- I know who you mean.

- Now, Eddie's got a daughter.

Charlie, bless her.

The light of his life.

He worships the ground she walks on.

She's a proper beauty, Charlie.

Or to give her her correct moniker,

Charlie Spencer-Temple.

But she ain't behaving like a lady.

She's hooked on the white powder

and loves a wrong one.

This is where you come in, right?

You're gonna find her.

- Find her?

- She's gone missing.

Well, you should get

a private detective.

Oh, right. Some nosy ex-policeman,

still on the Scotland Yard payroll?

She's done a runner from a drug

rehabilitation unit in the West Country.

Rehab.

She got loved up in there with

some lowlife crackhead called Kinky.

I reckon they've gone

back to London.

I wouldn't know where to begin.

Now and then we're asked to do

something beyond the call of duty.

It's called sacrifice, son.

Ask Gene. Ask Morty.

- I'll do my best.

- You do your best and find her.

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