Olsenbanden og Data-Harry sprenger verdensbanken

- This is the heist of our lives. - In Parliament? Isn't it dangerous?

Come on, Kjell. I'm sure Egon has got a terrific plan.

It's a Franz Jäger safe, isn't it?

There are no Franz Jägers left in Norway. We have to find new ways.

- Go with the times. - How?

What we're going to crack is a safe from Francis Hunter, Michigan, USA.

- Can we do that? - Sure.

I went to evening classes to learn the technique. I've got it sorted.

Brilliant, Egon.

- Come on, all clear. - What if someone comes in?

- Relax, they're watching the parade. - Brilliant, Egon.

Stop that! In the archives there is a safe from Francis Hunter.

In it is Norway's best kept secret.

- What's that, then? - Kleppe's budget for next year.

The budget? That's just paper. There's no money in there.

For people in the know, there is. I've met an editor.

He's willing to give his entire capital to get his hands on it.

You're phenomenal.

The safe has a logarithmically devised code system.

- Sounds phenomenal. - Impossible, more like.

Of course it isn't. It's very simple.

I just have to find the first two numbers, and know the code.

- And you know it? - Of course.

- Are you ready, Benny? - Yes... Right...

Here are the first numbers.

35...

...dash, 48.

- 35-48. - That's fine, Kjell.

- What? - Here are the next ones.

42-75.

- Got it, Kjell? - You asked me to take them down.

Oh yes, that's right. But did you?

- Yes. 42-75. - That's fine, Kjell.

- Now look... - Shut up and listen.

Subtract the highest number from the lowest and multiply by the code.

- It gives you the first 8 digits. - Let's see... 5 minus 8 is no good.

So we have to borrow... That makes 7-27.

Excellent. Now multiply that by the code.

- Yes, yes... - Well, what's the outcome?

Nothing, for the time being. I need the code first.

- Didn't you get it? - No.

- Right. Let me think... - I'm waiting.

It's on the tip of my tongue...

- It was seven... No, nine and... - You haven't forgotten, have you?

Of course I haven't! I just can't remember it right now.

What if we count from the beginning: one, two, three, four etcetera.

Then maybe you'll think of it when we get to the right number.

- Nonsense! - You could have written it down.

It's not easy to remember everything when you're getting on a bit.

- That's enough! - Well, it's true.

It gets difficult with names, numbers and stuff like that.

- You're becoming senile. - Shut up! It's not my fault.

I had it all worked out. Timed and planned.

- But every time we're together... - Let's call it a day.

Let's search the other cabinets. Maybe we'll find enough for the tram.

Look at that. The radio manual. A bit frayed at the edges.

Here's the crime report for '78. That's something for us.

- What does it say? - Set the inmates free, it's spring.

- Signed Haugestad. - Well! Look at this.

- Must be Borten's underpants. - A bit old, aren't they?

I'm fed up with your jabbering. Get out, so I can concentrate.

Fine with me. It's no picnic spending our old age here with you. Come on.

Senile. What a load of rubbish.

I must have that budget.

May I help you?

I do believe Egon Olsen has got into Parliament.

- There he is. - Yes, that's Egon.

With a plan tucked under his arm. Good old Egon.

- He's getting old. - Egon's all right.

- We would never let Egon down. - His mind is going downhill.

- He has the odd memory lapse. - The state fires bosses at 40.

- That's why you are the boss. - Egon will only be helping.

- And you promised Valborg... - OK. He's in. For a trial period.

Hello, Egon! It's good to see you.

How are you? Feeling better?

Don't you recognize my brother? It's Harry.

He's been to America. Fell asleep in a container and went as a stowaway.

He studied electronics over there. Computers, monitors, terminals.

It's brilliant. He's not Dynamite Harry now, but Computer Harry.

- And I can see you have a new car. - What? No, it's the company car.

- The company's? - Harry has become a company.

Benny's sister, Valborg and Harry are on the board.

- And it's not dangerous at all. - Are we lumped with Harry again?

I have a plan. I need pros. I don't trust Harry.

Look, Egon. You don't understand.

Harry is the boss now. We're working for him.

We get 36 kroner an hour, overtime and Saturdays off.

Right. And Harry's only 34. That's the right age, you see.

I had a chat with Harry, and you're welcome to join.

- You'll get 36 kroner an hour, too. - What about my plan?

That's the brilliant thing. No need to worry about plans anymore.

You get a steady wage and can enjoy old age in peace and quiet.

Old age?

It's the least we can do after all these years. Says Valborg.

Will this take all day?

The Oil Board. They deal with oil exploration in the North Sea -

- and the export of oil. Stop at the phone booth, Benny.

- We can start by opening the gate. - Leave it to me.

Spare me you amateurish nonsense. Do as I say.

- Benny! Fix the telephone. - I've got the coin ready.

Kjell, connect the sensors.

The Oil Board has had a deficit until 1985. They haven't got a penny.

They use cheques and electronic transfers.

How much is 7 times 17? Don't know, do you?

Nor do you know that there's lots of cash every other month. And why?

Well, they pay VAT on the North Sea enterprise.

Kleppe and the Ministry of Finance only accept cash.

But don't worry, old man, it's been timed and planned. Come on, Kjell.

We've got a connection.

Well, what do you think? Brilliant, isn't it?

Phone the central computer and you can ask whatever you want.

We need key number 368.

Egon! Where are you going? This is where the action is.

Benny, take the voltage regulator. Kjell takes the frequency modulator.

How about that, eh? Nothing like your old rubber gloves and stethoscope.

This is ultrasound. It's inaudible.

Could you please stop lecturing so I can concentrate? Thank you.

- This is huge. Tremendous. - It's beautiful.

Be quiet.

Holy moley, Harry! Can you do this?

- What have you done? - Nothing. Watch out, Kjell!

This is fun. Are you sure you've got the right monitor?

- It was him! - Who, me?

Yes, you! I knew it all along.

- It can't have been Egon. - He knows nothing about this.

- He's an elderly man. - Yes, old and senile.

No way. Let's call an electronics expert.

Be quiet! I've been through a long and expensive train... training.

And here I am, working with a couple of bumbling amateurs!

Fools and nitwits. With the intelligence of a brick. Get out!

- You can't... - Yes, I can! Get out!

And take him with you! I never want to see him again!

- Weren't we going to... - No! Get out!

- He went berserk. - What are we going to do now?

- I have a plan. - What kind of plan?

- We can't come home to Valborg... - She wants to adopt Harry.

We don't have to tell her everything. What is your plan, Egon?

The biggest thing we've ever done. The object is 30,000 tons of butter.

Butter?

I promised Valborg to buy butter. But we haven't got any money now.

Then we have to get some. We need capital.

- Is this before we go home? - The operation starts in two hours.

At 6 at the station. We need Benny's car and your hoover.

I'll bring the coin. Come on.

Hello?

It's a disgrace! This is the third time the newspaper is late.

I'm very sorry, but I think you've got the wrong number.

This is the phone booth next to the station.

I'm so sorry. I hope I didn't wake you up. But I had to do something.

It's the same in our corps.

You think any of our young people get up at 5 a.m. to empty meters?

It's all drink and Marxism these days. I have to go.

- Nice talking to you. Thank you. - Come on, come on!

Such a nice man. You'd never think he was a traffic warden.

No, Kjell. That is right out!

Drinking beer when you have a to-do list you haven't started on yet.

There's yesterday's dishes, the hoovering, the dirty laundry.

But it's Egon's fault, of course. Morning, Egon.

There's Larsen. I must go. Don't forget to hoover under the cushions.

Will do.

- Where is she off to? - Valborg's taking driving lessons.

Driving, her? Best stay inside, then. Now listen...

I have to do the dishes.

- Where are we driving today? - Today we are going to turn left.

Then I'll have to remember to look in the mirror.

Yes, please.

Now we're going to turn right. And you have to give way here.

Give way? That reminds me of my brother-in-law.

His hairline is giving way, too. So he combs it all forward.

My sister won't go out with him. He walks backwards in a head wind.

- I think it's time to drive. - Ah, yes.

But seriously, 30,000 tons of butter? What do we need all that for?

We can never eat that much. And Basse isn't home either.

- I thought you had a plan. - I do. If only you'd listen.

- All that butter. It's insane. - Not at all. It's politics.

In our country, butter is subsidized so farmers earn enough.

So it pays off for them to produce more than we can consume.

The pile keeps growing because we may not sell subsidized butter.

To Russia, for example, where there's a shortage, so they pay any price.

- That's where we come in. - Do we? How?

Remember Hallandsen, the swindler who fled a couple of years ago?

- Isn't he living in France? - That's right. On the Riviera.

In France, you can do anything with the right connections. And he has.

- I have to go to the laundrette. - What? Aren't you paying attention?

Of course we are. Hallandsen has connections. Who is it, Egon?

Henrik Smidt Nilsen. He is a member of Parliament, -

- and of the committee of the World Bank, -

- and he is on the control board for agricultural subsidies.

He's in trouble and may well lose his seat in the next election.

Which means all his perks will be gone as well.

He's trying to cover himself and has begun working with Hallandsen.

Hallandsen wants to buy the butter and sell it to the Russians.

Then they will share the profits.

Smidt Nilsen fixes the papers, Hallandsen supplies black dollars.

That can't be legit. How much are we talking about?

- $10 million! And we'll take them. - Brilliant. But how?

- I have a plan. - I must go home and hoover.

- What was that? - I braked. The light is red.

- So what? - The law says we have to stop.

- What for? - To let crossing traffic pass.