You'll probably laugh, Lieutenant, but I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about.

Sorry son, I'm not laughing: it's bad for my ulcer. I'm not supposed to laugh, I've got to try to stay calm…

Your file is top-secret, as you'd expect. But, all the same, I managed to get a look at it and I realised that you're not just anybody, Shelton, you're the fish I've been looking to land for years…

Obviously I /could/ work on you until you squealed. But your file says you're a real tough nut to crack. So, to save hurting my fists, I'm going to get straight to the point…

You've got five seconds to tell me where the money is.

Listen, Lieutenant, I…

Five seconds, Shelton! It's either the money, or a medal for me! One… Two… Three…

Four… Fi…

STOP!

You win: the money must be in a deposit box in the National Trust Bank.

Good lad! You see how easy it is when there's a bit of good will? The National Trust you say…