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♪ Fur Elise

Morning.

Excuse me. Miss Pierce?

Yes?

~ I don't suppose you remember me.
~ No.

I didn't think you would.

This is for Elise.

Let me introduce you to Damian White,

a thoroughly nasty piece of work.

Started life as a spiv - eggs,
cigarettes, petrol, all the rest of it.

Since then he's branched out

and now runs a criminal network

that extends the length and
breadth of this country.

~ Can't the police arrest him?
~ Apparently they can't touch him.

He hides behind a legitimate
business selling luxury goods.

I wouldn't have thought black
market was our business.

Well, then you'd be wrong.

If people like White
are allowed to carry on,

they're going to end up
bankrupting the country.

At this moment, there are a million
forged petrol coupons in circulation.

£13m worth of goods are stolen from
delivery trucks in one year alone.

We are not talking about a
few pairs of silk stockings.

This is organised crime
and on a massive scale.

The interest in him in particular?

Earlier this month, Mr White bought
himself a golf club out in Surrey.

Which will give you some
idea as to his wealth.

Here's one of the members.

Kuznetzov.

~ That's Kuznetzov.
~ Exactly.

~ Could it be a coincidence?
~ I don't think so.

Special Branch passed this on to us

and I believe we should
make it a priority.

The black market is one thing,

but cosying up to Soviet
agents is quite another.

They're playing golf together,
for heaven's sake!

~ Sir!
~ Mrs Wainwright, what are you doing?

I'm sorry, sir. It's Miss Pierce.

He was young. I'd say about 26.

Dark hair. Clean shaven.

He asked her if she remembered
him, and then he said, "This
is for Elise," and he shot her.

~ Why weren't you with her?
~ I was holding the door.

What about the driver? Where
was he when this was going on?

He dropped her off round the corner. She
often did that. She liked to get fresh air.

~ I want a written report.
~ Yes, sir.

Who's Elise?

No-one at the security service.
Well, no-one that I know of.

~ A codename, perhaps?
~ It's a thought.

Hospital, please.

We're removed the bullets but
I'm afraid to say, she still
hasn't recovered consciousness.

~ Will she?
~ I can't tell.

Truth is, I'm amazed
she's hung on this far.

That kind of an impact, close range.

Excuse me.

Better put somebody on the door,
just in case he tries again.

I want you to find him,
bastard that did this.

God knows, I've had my differences with
her, but that woman is extraordinary.

Throughout the war. SOE. Now.

She's given her life to the service.

~ Nothing can stop her.
~ Not even two bullets.

~ Exactly.
~ Are you in charge?

~ Sorry. You are?
~ Woodhead.

How is Miss Pierce?

They've operated but
they can't tell yet.

What do you know about this?

~ I was about to ask you the same question.
~ Don't be impertinent with me.

~ You're in the service?
~ Yes.

I understand she was shot in the street.
How could you have allowed that to happen?

And why isn't there
a guard on her door?

You know who that was?

Sir Ian Woodhead, MI6.
Director Of Operations.

Not someone to get
on the wrong side of.

Well, a bit late for
me, I think. SOE?

Very much so.

If you'd like to follow me, Miss Pierce's
flat is on the second floor.

Is this it? Somehow
I was expecting more.

Well, single, married to the job - not much
of a private life, I wouldn't have thought.

What are we looking for?

No idea.

We've only got one name - Elise.

And a man in his 20's.

Not much to be getting on with.

It's why we're here.

Didn't she ever eat anything?

This might be a reasonable
place to start.

~ Special Forces Club.
~ Yeah, it's a club for SOE and Intelligence.

Will they be able to
help, do you think?

If they'll let us in.

~ I'm very sorry, sir. I can't help you.
~ Hilda Pierce is a member here.

I'm afraid I can't tell you that.

You don't need to. I'm telling
you. She's a member.

~ What is your business with Miss Pierce?
~ I'm trying to find out who shot her.

Miss Pierce?

~ She's been shot?
~ That's right. This morning.

For God's sake, Kenton, let
them in. I'll sign for them.

As you wish, Mr Stafford.

Miss Pierce. Hilda.
Of course I knew her.

Everyone did.

She used to pop in now and
then. My section - MI(R).

Weapons. Time-delay fuses.
Limpet mines. Sticky bombs.

That's what we did.

We made devices that kill people
and we did it rather well.

I can talk to you, can't I?

I... think we're on the same side.

SOE. Special Operations Executive.

Who even remembers it?

End of the war, they threw us to the wolves.
Gubbins. Jefferies. The whole lot of us.

One minute it's top secret,
cloak and dagger,

the next you're a bank clerk,
or you've opened a shop,

or you're lounging about in here.

"Elise." Is that a name that
means anything to you?

Not off hand. Was she
one of Hilda's girls?

Could be.

Trouble is, all the girls
had different names then.

In training and in the field.

~ I can ask around for you, if you like.
~ I'd be grateful.

Do you know what the life expectancy
of an operator was back then?

Six bloody weeks.

Here's to them, eh?

Don't you worry about it, Archie.

I'll see you at the Blue Lantern.

You look after yourself. Ta-ta.

Mr White?

Derek! Come in. Take a pew.

Nice to see you.

It's been a while. Have
you been avoiding me?

No. No, not at all.

It's all right, Neville, you
can leave us now. Go get yourself
something down in the bar.

You play golf, Derek?

~ Nah.
~ You should come and try a round.

Bring your lovely wife.
Doris, isn't it?

~ No, it's Doreen.
~ And those kids of yours. Six and nine?

~ That's it.
~ The thing is, Derek,

you and I have a business arrangement.

You give me the information and every
month I give you remuneration.

It couldn't be simpler, really.

Except, you seem to be
letting the side down.

Well, I haven't had any big runs
recently, so I haven't been in touch.

That's not what I've heard.

I've heard you're going
out tomorrow from Redhill.

Half a million fags.
That's what I've heard.

I only found out last night.
I didn't have time to tell you.

Don't you worry.

That's why I invited you over.

A nice cup of char together.

A chat about old times.

And you can tell me.

What's the route?

~ Hello.
~ Hello.

~ What's that?
~ Whale.

Is it a new craving?

~ They say it tastes like beef.
~ It doesn't smell like beef.

Yeah, that's what I thought.

~ Are you OK?
~ Just a twinge.

Sam, you're gonna have
to talk to the...

~ Yeah, I know.
~ Once they see that you're pregnant,

~ you're not going to be able to...
~ I know.

Something happened at
work today, Adam. I...

I can't really talk about it.

I can't leave right now. It
just... It wouldn't be fair.

You must do what you think's best...

but you're gonna have to do it soon.

~ How are you?
~ I'm very well. And you?

~ Fine.
~ Good.

~ How can I help?
~ I thought you should know that...

Hilda's been shot.

Hilda Pierce?

Well, how many Hildas
do you and I know?

~ Is she dead?
~ No, she's very ill,

and doing as well as can be
expected in the circumstances.

~ How long have you known Hilda?
~ Six years.

Since the SOE was established?

Shortly after, yes.

And in spite of that, in spite
of you being aware of my relationship
to Hilda within the service,

you've never once mentioned her
or acknowledged you even knew her.

There's a reason for that.

Hilda came to me. She explained that you
were unconventional and that worried them.

She asked me to keep an eye
on you and report back.

And what was in the report?

Nothing.

If you'd mentioned all this,
I could have helped you

and saved you both a lot of trouble.

I didn't want to do that.

I met Hilda... and told her I
had too high a regard for you.

I said I couldn't do the job.

You'd perhaps understand why I
wouldn't necessarily believe that.

So, you've heard, then?

You weren't going to tell me?

I'll be honest and say it wasn't
first on my list of priorities.

So you don't think this has
something to do with Plato?

The thought had occurred to me,
but I don't see how it's possible.

No, the man that shot her
mentioned an agent - Elise.

He seems to have acted out of
some sort of personal revenge.

~ You'll find him?
~ Of course. They've put
a good man on the job.

So I understand.

She survived the night.

Well, that's something.

~ Yes?
~ Hello, Mr Foyle?

Stafford here.

I've got something for you.

Elise's real name
was Sophie Corrigan.

You can find her mother at Allenbrook
Lodge in Stratfield Witney.

There's not much I can tell you about
my daughter's work, Mr Foyle,

because she never told me.

And I'm not sure there's very
much I can tell you about her
family life that will help you.

I was wondering about the SOE and
how she became a part of all that.

Well, because they asked her.

A drab little letter from the
War Office, asking her to...

go to a building in Baker
Street, and that was it.

I suppose I should be proud of her,
but I'm not going to lie to you.

I wish she'd never gone.

♪ Fur Elise

~ You shouldn't play that.
~ What?

German music. You know
what Miles says.

Even Miles can't blame
Beethoven for the war.

I'm not so sure of that.

~ Where is he?
~ He's in the garden.

~ You do know what you're doing?
~ I've told you.

You've told me nothing, and
certainly not the truth.

Do credit me with a little
intelligence, Sophie.

I've not interfered.

I just... want you to be sure...

that you've thought it all through.

Yes.

You're just like your father.

You won't be told.

Now, come on. Finish it.

I like to hear you play.

She was killed... in
Paris... in May, '44.

It was her first mission.

An... only child?

No. She has an older brother, Miles.

Where is he?

You haven't told me why you're
asking all these questions.

Well, someone...

who knew your daughter very well
was hurt rather badly yesterday.

A lot of people knew my daughter
rather well, Mr Foyle.

She was much loved.

Hilda Pierce. Would that
mean anything to you?

Oh, yes. Yes, I've met her.

She came here two years ago.

She was the one who told
us about Sophie's death.

Would Miles have met her?

Yes.

You wouldn't have a...
photograph of him, would you?

Why?

Well, I'm just curious.

You say someone was hurt, but
Miles wouldn't hurt anyone.

We've gone through a great deal,
Mr Foyle, especially Miles.

He's always been very sensitive and... when
his father left us, that was bad enough.

But Sophie was everything to
him, and they were inseparable.

My son was a pilot, too.

~ Fighters?
~ Yes.

Then you'll know how hard it was
for them when it was all over.

I do.

Miles went for a job in insurance.

But he never got used to it.

He was always so...

.. sad.

He still lives here with me but I haven't
seen him since the morning of my birthday.

When was that?

Two days ago.

We were supposed to have dinner
together that evening, but he...

went out and never came back.

He was angry about something.

If... Miles ever does
make an appearance,

you might ask him to
call me on that number.

~ Of course.
~ Thank you.

Hello, Miss Pierce.

~ Let me take that.
~ Thank you.

I'll write to you.

Why does she have to go?

She'll come back.

~ You got 'em?
~ Yeah, they're in the back.

All right. Get to work.

~ Come on.
~ Give me that.

~ Let's get the story straight.
~ Yeah.

You were driving along, when a man
stepped out dressed as a copper.

~ I slowed down.
~ You stopped.

~ Yeah, I stopped.
~ He dragged you out of the cabin...

~ and made you sit down.
~ Yeah.

~ Yeah, and I never seen his face.
~ That's right.

He tied you up and he shot you.

~ Eh?
~ Mr White says goodbye.

Get on with it!

The idea of building these
new estates is fine,

but Bevan's right - where's
the butcher, the baker?

Without them, how are people going
to get any sense of community?

~ Well, they can move out of London.
~ That's not the answer.

Morning, gentlemen.
What can I do for you?

~ I've got a load of socks,
just off the lorry.
~ All right.

Have a look at that.

12 bob in the shops. 4
bob to you, no coupons.

Or... nylons for the ladies...

.. or beautiful sheets.

All the best quality.

~ Socks.
~ Socks.

Pure wool. Keep your feet
warm in the winter. Lovely.

Now, listen, listen.

When was the last time you had
your hands on a bottle of scotch?
Cos I can fix it for you.

Where did you get these?

I don't ask where you get your money,
you don't ask where I get my socks.

~ How much did you say?
~ Don't buy 'em.

~ What?
~ We're not interested.

All right, all right.
Keep your hair on.

~ There's plenty who are.
~ Thank you.

~ Socks!
~ Here. I'll have a pair.

Certainly, sir.

Stolen goods being sold in the middle
of West Peckham. It's wrong.

~ You don't know they were stolen.
~ Where do you think he got them from?

These people are spivs.

Half of 'em are deserters. The rest of them
got out of serving on medical grounds.

Maybe they're giving
people what they want.

What, breaking the
law? You support that?

No. But I don't see any harm
in cheering people up.

~ What?
~ There's nothing in the shops.

The British loaf is rubbish.
Rationing is as bad as ever.

Sometimes it doesn't feel
like we won the war.

I'm surprised at you.

If there was one thing that struck me about
you when we first met, it was your honesty,

even if it has got you
into trouble sometimes.

But here you are standing
up for criminals.

I think you should report him.

I have to say well done, Mr Foyle. You've
acted quickly and very effectively.

We'll find Miles Corrigan
soon enough.

I'd be happy to continue with
it if it's all the same to you.

I'm afraid not. You seem to be forgetting
the more pressing matter of Damian White.

More pressing than Hilda?

Half a million cigarettes stolen
this morning in transit from
a NAAFI warehouse in Redhill,

the driver shot dead.

White was almost certainly
the man behind it.

Not that he was anywhere near.

I can't see that this is to do
with Kuznetsov and the Soviets.

Not unless they've taken up smoking.

I'll thank you not to
be flippant, Valentine.

When we have a major criminal consorting
with the known enemies of our country,

I think that is a matter that
needs to be investigated.

Unlike you not to watch
your back, Hilda.

Mm. Losing my grip.

~ I wouldn't say that.
~ Mm. Not to my face.

You know who this was.

"Elise."

Sophie Corrigan.

Of course. I remember her.

~ This is Plato.
~ I don't think so.

Why now, after all this time?

~ She died.
~ A lot of operatives died.

Are we going to hold you responsible
for all of them? Or any of them?

They knew what they were doing.

I'm sorry, Ian. I'm tired.

Of course. I'll leave you.

I was very shocked to hear
what had happened, my dear.

I'm relieved you're all right.

I wanted you to know that.

Come in.

Ah. Bonjour.

~ Bonjour, madame.
~ Je m'appelle Hilda Pierce.

~ And you've spoken to Mr Caplin?
~ Yes. We spoke for some time.

But I still don't know why I'm here.

You're here because you speak fluent
French, you lived in Paris for a while.

~ I understand your father is French.
~ Yes.

You've got a first-class degree
from Oxford, in mathematics.

And I believe you could
be very useful to us.

In what way?

I can't tell you that until you've
signed the Official Secrets Act.

But what I can tell you is...

that although this work that I'm
offering you is extremely dangerous,

it is vital to the war effort.

It may mean you being away
from home for some time.

And you cannot tell anyone - not
your family, not even your mother,

anything about it.

Am I making myself clear?

You're making yourself
very unclear, Miss Pierce.

It's not often I get a call
from the security service.

Would you like a drink?

~ Not for me.
~ No, I won't, thank you.

So, anything I can do to help?

Perhaps you can start by telling
us a bit about your business.

I'm afraid I can't do that.

It's against the rules.

No business in the club lounge.

But since we're amongst friends...
what do you want to know?

I run a lot of businesses.

There's the used cars, and a
couple of clubs, luxury goods.

~ Cigarettes?
~ No.

No perishables. Toasters, towel
rails. That sort of thing.

~ What did you do during the war?
~ Eyesight. Tragic.

Couldn't join up.

Uh, do you know a man
called Kuznetsov?

~ Kuznetsov?
~ Mm-hm.

Arkady!

My God, you have been busy!

What, have you been photographing me with
one of your secret cameras or something?

I thought the Russkies
were our friends.

~ You know him.
~ Honorary member.

We've played a round or two
of golf. No crime in that.

~ Do you do business together?
~ Against the rules.

I just told you.

You're not investigating him?

We don't need to investigate
him. We know all about him.

The Assistant Military Attache
at the Soviet Embassy.

Then let me tell you something
you may not know.

He's a lousy golfer.

You want to know the truth?

Truth is, you shouldn't be
hounding people like me.

It's people like me that are gonna
put this country back on its feet.

~ Is that right?
~ Six years of misery.

All those deaths.

And what was it for?

Austerity and
penny-pinching? Forget it.

That's not what people want any more.

No.

They want to smoke and drink
and enjoy themselves.

They want to wear new clothes
and go on holiday.

But that's not what
you represent, is it?

No. You're still stuck in
the war, stuck in the past,

and you just don't see it.

You're not wanted any more.

Now, do you mind?

I've got some golf to play.

Till the next time.

Mr Wainwright?

I'm Chief Superintendent Usborne. I
understand you called my desk sergeant.

~ It's very good of you to look in.
~ Not at all. I was passing.

~ If there's anything I
can do for my local MP...
~ Please.

Now, what's this about? Spivs?

~ At the Green Lane Market.
~ I got your note, yes. What is the problem?

The problem is that we have people
quite clearly breaking the law

and nobody seems to be
doing anything about it.

Let me stop you there.

What evidence do you have?

Well, only this morning we were offered
socks off the back of a lorry,

~ nylon stockings, whisky.
~ That's the sales pitch.

~ Are you saying it isn't true?
~ What if it is?

I'd have said we were
stretched enough already.

Burglaries, robberies with violence.

If Nurse Riff-Rafferty wants to pick up a few
nylons on the sly, where's the harm in it?

~ I don't agree.
~ I wouldn't say it's any
of your business, Mr...

Harris.

Chief Superintendent, I'm
the one raising the matter.

And I think we need to take action.

I wouldn't have said it's the job of the
local MP to dictate police procedure.

We're not talking about procedure.
We're talking about the law.

Very well.

In my view, it's a waste of
resources, but I'll look into it.

~ Green Lane, you said?
~ That's right.

I'll show myself out.

Hello?

You're Foyle.

Yes.

You came alone?

You asked me to.

So you've spoken to your mother?

~ She doesn't know anything about this.
~ She's very worried about you.

Why are you doing this?

They killed Sophie.

The war killed Sophie.

They knew what they were
doing, that she would die.

~ How can you know that?
~ I haven't finished yet.

I'm going to get all of them.

Hilda Pierce isn't dead. You haven't killed
her. There's still time to stop this.

My sister didn't achieve anything.
She was tortured and executed.

The people who sent her to France knew
exactly what was going to happen.

~ They wanted it to happen.
~ Why would they want that?

I don't know. You find
out and tell me.

~ Then I'll give myself up.
~ Miles...

Hilda Pierce knew
and she did nothing.

Next time I won't miss.

Tea?

Oh, you are sweet.

Oh.

These yours?

Why? Whose else would they be?

They're nylon.

You mustn't be angry with me, Adam.

They were ten bob. I know it's outrageous
but you can't get them anywhere.

No, I'm not... I'm not angry. Just
wondering where you got them from.

A man in the market.

He gets them from America.

You don't mind, do you?

No. No, not at all.

~ No, it's just...
~ What?

Oh, it's nothing.

No, it doesn't matter.

You er... not going to work?

No. I got the day off.

Come.

~ I thought I told you
to concentrate on White.
~ I've done precisely that.

Then how do you account for this
meeting with Miles Corrigan?

He telephoned me. I left
a number with his mother.

~ And you went alone?
~ It's what he wanted.

Well, you might have been killed.

And if you'd shared this information,
we might have been able to bring him in.

As it is, we now have a young
man out there, clearly deranged,

threatening to commit mayhem.

No. I don't think that's the case.

His intentions would appear
to be very specific.

~ Who are the others?
~ Perhaps Hilda could help with that.

All right. Talk to her.

You know, Foyle, I never very much
cared for SOE, if you want the truth.

They were a rag-tag
sort of an operation,

too secretive by half and
frequently out of control.

But Miss Pierce was different.

I've always had the greatest
admiration for her.

~ I know that.
~ Do what you have to.

~ Sort this out. Let me know.
~ I will.

Come.

Mr Foyle.

No flowers?

Ah.

Maybe at my funeral.

Well, that won't be happening
for a little while, so I'm told.

I see you've given me protection.
Whose idea was that?

Actually, it was somebody
called Woodhead.

Oh, Ian?

~ Was he very unpleasant?
~ Well, he's to the point.

Mm. That's his way. He's
not really like that.

~ I hear you have a name.
~ Yes.

Miles... Corrigan.

~ Sophie's brother.
~ Mm.

Spitfire pilot...

awarded the DSO.

He holds me responsible
for her death.

~ Was it you who recruited her?
~ Yes.

She was an obvious choice.

Bilingual. Degree from Oxford.
Intelligent. Lovely girl.

Played the piano.

Piano players always made
the best radio operators.

They had the best touch.

~ She was also very pretty.
~ Was that important?

Well, it helped.

And what happened to her?

Three days after she arrived, she
walked into a cafe in Paris...

.. and the Gestapo
were waiting for her.

The ninth agent we lost...

in the space of a few months.

Nine?

There were only two possibilities.

Either the circuit in France had been
compromised, which was unthinkable,

or there was a traitor
here in the SOE.

That's what Ian thought.
So he gave them a name...

Plato.

Did you find them?

We couldn't look into it ourselves
because we were too close.

We had to find someone
outside Section F2,

but still within the SOE.

In the end, I recruited someone
I knew from the Cairo Office.

A planning officer, assistant
to Major General Stawell.

Well, that would have
been Elizabeth Addis.

Of course, you know her.

We've met.

Ian Woodhead came to
see me early in '44.

He asked me to find Plato.

Nine agents had died.

There had to be someone inside SOE
feeding information to the Germans.

I interviewed more than 40
people over a 3-month period.

It wasn't easy.

We couldn't let everyone know what we
suspected. We had to think of morale.

I was able to bring it
down to three suspects.

Five, if you included
Woodhead and Pierce.

They were the only ones who had
information on all nine agents.

So, who were they?

Eric Caplin. Director of Operations and
Training. He's a civil servant now. Senior.

~ Which department?
~ I don't know. I'm sorry.

Peter Hawtrey. Head of Codes and
Communications until he resigned.

I don't know where he is now.

And there was Luc Tellier.
"Lucky Luke."

~ He was part of the moon squadrons.
~ What was that?

The transport service landing
agents in Northern France,

flying out of Tangmere
on the Sussex coast.

~ Did he fly all of them?
~ All nine of them, yes.

~ Did you speak to him?
~ Several times.

I didn't like him, but
I couldn't prove anything.

Finally, it was inconclusive.

Tellier struck me as
the most likely suspect,

but I couldn't be sure that any
of them were double agents.

Yeah, you see? Look.

It's too far apart.

~ Er, Mrs Wainwright?
~ Yes.

We've had a report of a gas leak.

What? From here?

That's right. I wonder if I could
come in and have a butcher's.

I haven't smelled anything.

It's probably nothing but better
to be on the safe side.

All right. You'd better come in.

Mrs Addis did a first-class job.

An external investigation.

~ Rigorous, fair, and extremely thorough.
~ But inconclusive.

I wouldn't say that.
She narrowed the field.

Tellier. Hawtrey. Caplin.

It had to be one of them.

But you found nothing.

You were a policeman during the
war, tucked away in Hastings.

You won't have much idea
of what it was like for us.

Well, that would be correct.

You and Hilda Pierce were
suspected. Isn't that right?

I was the one who instigated the
Plato inquiry, for heaven's sake.

As for Hilda, I won't hear
a word said against her.

She lived for those girls
- her operatives.

~ If anything, she was too close to them.
~ What do you mean by that?

Only that she felt their
loss very keenly.

We were playing a dangerous
game, Mr Foyle.

I always said it was better
to keep a distance.

Where can I find these men?

Caplin is with GEN-75 Committee
over in Whitehall.

~ I can arrange for you to meet him.
~ Thank you.

Tellier is still flying. He's no
longer with the service, of course.

And Hawtrey has disappeared
off the face of the earth.

He may not even be in the country.

You can keep those if you like.

Thank you.

This man... Miles Corrigan...

~ Do you really think he might go after them?
~ Oh, absolutely.

And foolish to assume he
won't go after you, too.

Mr Caplin, how are you?

I'm all right.

I'm glad to hear that.
Have you got it?

You... You listen to me.

You don't understand
the risks I'm taking.

They're... They're gonna notice.

~ Now, you tell Mr White...
~ Tell him what?

Nothing. Doesn't matter.

But... there's not going to be
anything else, not for a while.

I've got a message for you.

From Archie.

What?

He's looking forward to seeing
you, if you're around next Friday.

Archie said that?

Same time. Blue Lantern.

Look after yourself.

~ Who's that? It's a bit late.
~ I'll go.

~ Mrs Wainwright?
~ Yes.

My name's Detective Inspector Skinner.
I'm from the Metropolitan Police.

I have a warrant to
search these premises.

~ Excuse me, please.
~ What are you talking about?

~ What is this?
~ I've explained everything to your wife, sir.

My name's DI Skinner.

Do you know who I am? I'm
the MP for this area.

I know perfectly well
who you are, sir.

We've received information that you
may possess forged ration coupons.

~ That's ridiculous!
~ Then you won't mind if we take a look.

~ Of course I mind. This is outrageous.
~ Adam.

I want to know the name
of your superior officer.

Certainly, sir. It's Chief
Superintendent Usborne.

Sir...

Are these yours, sir?

Do you smoke?

This was my fault.

~ No, it wasn't.
~ Yes, it was.

As usual. There was a man
who came to the house.

He said there was a gas leak,
but there was no gas leak.

That's when they must have done it.

~ When was this?
~ Yesterday.

You weren't to know.

What did Mr Harris say?

Er... when I got bailed this morning,
he told me to come home and stay here.

He's trying to sort things
out with the Chief Whip.

I won't let them do this
to you, Adam. It's not fair.

Come on, now, Sam. There's
nothing you can do.

I think you're forgetting
who I work for.

~ You can't get them involved.
~ Why not? This stinks.

Please, Sam. I'll deal with
it. We'll deal with it.

You promise me you won't get
into any trouble on my account.

Are you sure?

Well, well, well. Monsieur Tellier
gracing us with his presence.

Haven't seen you in a while.

I've been away.

~ Still flying?
~ What else is there?

Based at Tangmere?

~ What'll you have?
~ Another Pernod.

You er... hear about Hilda?

~ Someone put a bullet in her.
~ Oh, really?

How is she?

She'll pull through.

~ Shame.
~ You never did much like her, did you?

Well, she was always a woman
who knew how to make enemies.

I'll join you in a minute.

~ Same again.
~ Yes, Mr Stafford.

~ Mr Caplin.
~ Thank you.

Mr Valentine, Mr Foyle. You're from
the security service. Is that right?

There's nothing wrong, I hope.

We're here about Hilda Pierce.

Hilda? Of course.

Yes.

I can't imagine why anyone
would want to do such a thing.

The man who tried to kill her was Miles Corrigan.
You knew his sister, Sophie Corrigan.

~ Elise.
~ Mm-hm.

He believes that your section of SOE
was somehow responsible for her death.

That's absurd.

It was a dreadful time.

We lost a great many agents.

But... it wasn't anyone's fault.

~ There was an informer.
~ No, there was an inquiry.

It dragged on for months.

Even after the war, they
were still asking questions.

But... But nothing was proved.

You were suspected, weren't you?

If there was a leak, if anyone
was giving out information,

I had nothing to do with it.

You should...

.. talk to Hawtrey.

~ Peter Hawtrey?
~ That's right.

He... He resigned a few weeks
before Elise was killed.

Just upped and went. I always...

.. wondered about that.

He was always a bit of an outsider.

You suspected him?

Look, I was ops and training.

I... I didn't really know what
was going on in the field.

I wasn't in a position to suspect
anybody. All I'm saying is, if
anyone stuck out, it was him.

~ Do you know where we can find him?
~ No idea.

I'm sorry.

Nervy sort of chap, wouldn't you say?

Couldn't agree more. Don't
let him out of your sight.

Yes, sir.

News! News!

~ Sir.
~ Mrs Wainwright, where's Mr Foyle?

I was looking for him, too, sir. He
asked me to meet him, after Whitehall.

~ I've got these for him.
~ Are these urgent, sir?

Telephone intercepts sent over from Special
Branch. Black market. Damian White.

You all right, Mrs Wainwright?

Yes, I'm... I'm very
well. Thank you, sir.

You don't seem quite yourself.

Oh, this is so kind of you.

Yes, well, you heard what the doctor said.
It's too soon. You shouldn't have left.

~ Oh, you think you could have stopped me?
~ No. Which is why I gave you a lift.

Here.

Take my arm.

You're not serious?

Just as far as the front
door of the flat.

~ Will you be all right here?
~ I've managed for the last 20 years.

~ You know what I mean.
~ Yes, I'll be fine.

Can I get you anything? Cup of tea?

~ You've never made a cup of tea in your life.
~ Oh, I can probably work out the procedure.

A glass of water would be nice.

So... this is where you live?

~ I've... often wondered.
~ Have you?

Occasionally.

~ Bottom left.
~ Oh. Right.

I don't think I ever
really did live here.

~ I think I only came here to sleep.
~ Those were the days.

~ Were they?
~ We were part of history.

What we achieved - the SOE
- will never be forgotten.

~ But at what cost?
~ Of course it was bloody.

We always knew it would be hard. But to take
the fight to the enemy behind the lines...

Elise lasted three days.

Maybe we need to resign
ourselves, Hilda.

~ We may never know what really happened.
~ Why did we never find him?

Plato? It wasn't for want of looking.

You knew how hard things were. You
knew the risks we were running.

~ But three days.
~ Her life wasn't wasted.

We came through in the end.

We were there on D-Day.

It was our agents, our intelligence,
that made the difference.

~ We played our part.
~ I know.

I wouldn't change anything for
what we achieved, you and me.

And Elise, all the others,
they would agree.

Do you think so?

I couldn't live with
myself if they didn't.

~ Do you want me to stay?
~ No. Go. I want to lie down.

But come back.

~ How are you feeling?
~ I thought I'd be more nervous.

Well, be nervous.

Be afraid. Fear will
help keep you alive.

Here. I have something for you.

Just something I'd like you to have.

It was given to me by my mother.

It's beautiful. Thank you.

I don't think it's very valuable.

And, don't worry, it is French.

There.

Now I can think of you wearing it.

Thank you, Miss Pierce.

Thank you for everything.

Just promise me you'll take care.

I promise.

~ Mr Caplin.
~ What?

God, I... I never
did anything to you.

~ This is for Elise.
~ Corrigan! Drop your weapon!

~ Mr Caplin, are you all right?
~ Yeah.

Corrigan!

Come on!

After him!

~ Go round the front!
~ Righto!

He's inside, sir. We've
got all the exits covered.

~ Caplin?
~ He's all right, sir.

~ And what about him?
~ He took one bullet, maybe two.

Why did you do that?

~ He fired on us.
~ I understand.

Miles?

We're not going to hurt you.

Miles?

A doctor, I think.

We're here to help. Don't
worry. Someone's coming.

Why are you doing this?

It's... Roberts...

Roberts? Who's Roberts?

I don't understand
why it has to be you.

I don't know. I didn't choose this.

You could have said no.

I don't think so.

I hate this war. I hate
everything about it.

I'll be all right.

The war won't go on forever.

I promise you. We'll
all be together again.

Miles! Sophie! Tea's ready!

I do not appreciate
shootouts on the street.

Foyle, I thought you
had this under control.

If we hadn't had our people there
Caplin would have been killed.

Did I ask you?

I'm sorry he died. But surely that's an end
to it. There's nothing more for you to do.

Well, a woman has lost both her children for
reasons we're apparently unable to explain.

If you were her, you'd
appreciate some answers.

~ If there was a traitor in SOE...
~ SOE is finished, disbanded.

.. the traitor could have moved on.

Could be in Intelligence.
Could be in government.

Sir Ian Woodhead is
my counterpart at MI6.

Eric Caplin is a member
of the GEN-75 Committee.

It is inconceivable that either of
them could have divided loyalties.

GEN-75?

It's a cabinet sub-committee
reporting to the Prime Minister.

It's responsible for the shape and direction
of our country's atomic programme.

So I suggest you leave Caplin alone.

~ Have you anything else?
~ We've found the pilot.

~ Who?
~ Luc Tellier. He's one of the main suspects.

All right. See him. But I'm
losing patience, Foyle,

and there are other priorities.
Damian White, for one.

~ Have you seen those telephone intercepts?
~ Of course.

Good. I'm giving you two
more days and that's it.

Arkady Kuznetsov. How are you today?

I hope you don't mind my
making an observation.

I was watching your
back swing just now,

and I think you need to rotate
the body more into the shot.

You'll get more distance.

You've never got very much
to say for yourself, have you?

All you bloody Reds.

You should visit my country.

Maybe it will surprise you.

Workers' paradise, I'm sure.

You might find today's
issue of interest.

Page seven. And we're
at the usual post box?

Good.

Drinks are on me, Neville.

Sorry, we're closed!

~ Mrs Wainwright.
~ Please. Call me Sam.

And I shall call you Glenvil. After all,
we've known each other long enough.

~ Why are you here?
~ I want to talk to you... about Adam.

~ You don't believe he's guilty, do you?
~ No, of course not.

I was just writing to the Chief Whip.

These are transcripts
from a telephone call

made from a man called Damian White.

He's a big racketeer.

~ Where'd you get this?
~ It doesn't matter.

Look at the name of the
man he's talking to.

~ Usborne.
~ Chief Superintendent Usborne.

The man you and Adam met here.
It can't be a coincidence.

Have you shown this to Adam?

Usborne and White have arranged
to meet, this evening.

If we can photograph them, we
can prove that Adam was set up.

~ It doesn't say where they're meeting.
~ If we follow Usborne, we can find out.

No.

I'm sorry, M... uh, Sam.

This man is a racketeer.

Please, Glenvil. I'll do anything to help
Adam, but I can't do this on my own.

~ I know, but...
~ This was partly your fault.

Adam never wanted to go to
the police. You persuaded him.

That's true, and I'm sorry,

but I don't think the answer
is to go charging in on our own.

We're not going to be on our own.

I know someone.

~ Thank you.
~ Goodbye, sir.

How did you find me?

Stafford? He telephoned you?

Well, anyway, I can't tell
you anything about her.

I can't tell you anything
about any of them.

To me, they all looked the same...
at night, with the full moon,

pretty girls in their French civvies.

Always two cases. One with the radio.

I never even knew her real name.

You were investigated.

After Elise died, we
were all investigated.

They didn't know how it had
happened. They were scared.

It wasn't just Elise, you know.

They thought you might have been
responsible for the death of nine agents.

I was responsible.

I flew them to their death. Of
course, I knew nothing then but...

How do you think I feel now?

Do you know Peter Hawtrey?

I flew with him. Once. It was
a mission over Northern France.

It was very dangerous, but... there
was something he wanted to know.

~ Do you know what?
~ I was at the front. He was at the back.

~ I knew nothing.
~ And this was... when?

February or March, '44.

I don't remember but it was just
a few weeks before he resigned.

Suddenly he was gone and
nobody was saying anything.

~ Even his name - it wasn't
mentioned any more.
~ Where is he now? Do you know?

No. No, I don't know.

Special Operations was unique.

In this country there was
nothing else like it.

But, in order to exist,
it had to protect itself.

And what happened to people
like me... they didn't care.

I risked my life many times
for them. Many times!

And they treated me like a criminal.

So Hawtrey flew over Northern
France... just before Elise died.

A bit risky for a section
head, wouldn't you say?

We need to find him.

What about Caplin? He was
uh... head of operations.

~ He must have known about the flight.
~ Well, there's something not adding up.

The agents following Caplin said
he went into the Palladium at 7:45

and came out just after 9:00.

~ Maybe he didn't like the show.
~ There was no show. That's the point.

You know, Foyle, you've
put your finger on it.

How very pleasant. Just for once,
I know something you don't.

I know exactly why he went there.

How much longer are we gonna wait?

He said 6:00.

He could have gone out a back way.

I'm just not at all sure
about the wisdom of this.

Is... Is that him?

It is. Yeah.

Come on.

~ Just through there, sir.
~ Thank you.

Mr Foyle. How very good to see you.

~ How are you?
~ Oh, I'm better.

~ I should be at work.
~ There's really no hurry.

Well, I appreciate your concern,
but I need to know what's going on.

Miles Corrigan is dead.

Yes.

That saddens me very much.

You were with him.
Did he say anything?

Well... is this really
the time to be...

Oh, please. I need to know.

Who's Roberts?

~ Roberts?
~ He mentioned somebody called Roberts.

I don't know any Roberts.

He didn't say anything else?

Well, it was difficult. Erm...

I couldn't follow what
he was trying to say.

I imagine, by now, you've
spoken to Elizabeth Addis.

Yes.

Well, I'm sorry. That
was wrong of me.

Has she spoken to you about Plato?

~ Yes.
~ Who have you spoken to?

The same people that were
interviewed by the inquiry,

apart from Peter Hawtrey, because
nobody appears to know where he is.

Well, I never saw him
after he resigned.

~ Do you know why he resigned?
~ No.

For Head of Communications, he was
an extremely uncommunicative man.

I was away at Wanborough
Manor when he left.

~ And you haven't spoken to him since?
~ No need to.

He had his own reasons.

A few weeks before, he took
a flight over Northern France.

What was that about?

Erm...

Er, I'm going to have a drink. I
have some whisky. Will you join me?

Yes.

France.

I know nothing about this.

And you say... you don't
know where to find him?

That's right.

Then it's high time you did.

Find him, and I want to
know the moment you do.

~ How much does he know?
~ If you're talking about
Foyle, I have no idea.

~ I know him.
~ Hilda told me.

She asked me to keep an eye on him.

~ If you want the truth, I wish I hadn't.
~ And why is that?

He's a decent man. I don't think he quite
knows what he's got himself into.

~ What sort of people we are.
~ And yet you agreed?

Hilda persuaded me it was necessary.
She said he was out of control.

He still is. He's already spoken
with Caplin and Tellier.

If he finds Hawtrey, that'll
be the end of it.

You told me this had nothing
to do with Plato.

The law of unintended consequence.

~ Where is Hawtrey?
~ Funnily enough, I've no idea.

What are you afraid of, Ian?

Afraid?

You're afraid of Hilda, aren't you?

She's going to find out.

You were part of it, Elizabeth.

You didn't like it then. You might
not like it now. But it's the truth.

I'll say good night.

Come on.

~ Charlie. Good to see you, me old china.
~ Hello, Mr White.

Mr White.

~ Hello, Mr White.
~ Hello, Mr White.

Here, Blakey. Come here.

Very tasty. I'll have one of those
if you've got one to spare.

Go on.

I know just the fella.

~ Alan.
~ Nice to see you, Mr White.

I've got a gift for you.

That little matter taken care of?

~ That's what I've come to see you about.
~ Step into the office.

~ Seen enough?
~ No.

We need to get nearer.

What do you think you're doing?

~ They were spying on us?
~ No, we weren't.

I know him. We've met.

You're Harris. I know what this is
about. It's about that bloody MP.

No.

So, what are you - his wife?

You took a big risk
coming here, darlin'.

Look, this is ridiculous.
Just let us go.

They've seen us together.

Neville...

What's going on?

Quick! Come on!

Down! Get down!

~ Are you all right?
~ Yes.

I thought I might have
left it too late.

Glenvil. This is Mr James Stafford.

~ He used to be with the SOE.
~ That was you?

Smoke bombs and blank cartridges,
but it seems to have done the trick.

~ Did you get what you want?
~ Absolutely.

Right. Let's make a move.

Never again, Sam. Any more of
this, I'm joining the Tories.

~ Yes, of course.
~ Thank you.

Gentlemen, I've already told
you everything I know.

Mr Caplin, we'd like your help

putting an end to the activities
of a man called Damian White.

Well, I don't know any Damian White.

You certainly know some
of his associates.

Not here.

This man's Neville Smith.
He works for Damian White.

You're wrong. I've told you.
I don't know a Damian White.

We haven't identified the young
man you're being introduced to.

Perhaps you'd prefer it that way.

~ I don't know what you're talking about.
~ Oh...

Do I have to spell it out?

The Circle Bar of the Palladium,
when there's no show,

is frequented by a certain kind of man
wishing to meet a similar kind of man.

Both men are breaking the law.

These men can also be seen on the first floor
of Lyon's Corner House, Coventry Street,

Chez Victor's, Wardour Street.

I've been asking around. You've
been seen in all of them.

Please stop.

It may help you to know that...

well, I know this because I've
been in those places myself.

Music Box. Sphinx. Sonia's.

~ You?
~ I'm only surprised we've never met.

I... I... I met a young person.

Archie. He's the...
boy in the photograph.

Damian White owns
the club. I think...

I...

I think he owns Archie.

And so he was blackmailing
you for what?

Information.

Documents.

I'm sorry to have to tell you, but
he's been selling them to the Soviets.

I... And I...

I didn't know what he was
doing with them. I never...

I never asked.

Is this really necessary?

Sir.

Excuse me. If you could tell
us what's actually happening.

These papers contain highly classified
information about our atomic programme.

Can you explain how they
came to be in your office?

I have no idea.

No. We know all about Mr Caplin.
We know about the Blue Lantern.

We know about your connection
with Arkady Kuznetsov.

Mr Caplin's made a full confession.

Well...

.. that would seem to be that, then.

Oh, I'd say so.

For what it's worth, Mr Foyle,

I'm not a Bolshie.

I love my country. This
was all just business.

And, for what it's worth, Mr
White, whatever you may call it,

you're guilty of treason - which
still carries a death sentence.

So you took these?

Before you say anything, sir,

I know it was wrong...

and dangerous...

but Adam's whole future was at stake.

Our future. I couldn't just stand
by and let it all happen.

~ Mm-hm.
~ I took great care, sir.

Mr Harris and Mr Stafford
were with me.

Mr Stafford provided
me with a camera.

~ Will they be enough to clear Adam's name?
~ Well, yes.

In fact, the lot of them
have been arrested.

What about this Chief
Superintendent Usborne?

Proving corruption...
a bit difficult.

What about receiving stolen property?

White gave Usborne a Roberts radio.

Thank you.

I'm so very sorry.

To lose a child to
the war is one thing,

but er...

.. Miles.

I've no idea what possessed him.

If it's any consolation, we're
doing our very best to find out.

Do you remember mentioning to
me the last time you saw him?

It was the morning of my birthday.

Do you mind me asking,
did he buy you anything?

Oh, not at all. He
bought me that radio.

Mm.

The... old one wasn't
behaving terribly well.

Where would he have bought
that, do you think?

I'm afraid I don't know.

Would you mind if I took a look?

No, not at all.

And I remember you saying he was angry
about something. Is that right?

Yes. I'd never seen
him like that before.

~ Peter Hawtrey?
~ How can I help you?

I don't want to talk to you.

Why should I talk to you?

Because I'm trying to help.

Are you?

And because Miles Corrigan...

.. is dead.

~ What?
~ He was here, wasn't he? Am I right?

Fairly recently.

Yes.

Thank you.

Corrigan. I knew a Corrigan once.

~ You remind me of her.
~ Sophie Corrigan?

~ Is that who you mean?
~ Sophie?

~ I'm her brother.
~ I shouldn't have said anything.

I should have kept my mouth shut.

But I had to tell him what they'd
done to her, the bastards.

It was 1944.

Eight agents had died. I knew
something had to be wrong.

So I began to listen in to
the actual live transmissions.

I knew these agents.

I'd met them.

I'd helped with their training.

And I knew it wasn't them.

Every agent had their own fist
- and that was what was missing.

Their tapping was
uncharacteristically clipped,

or slow.

To begin with, I didn't
believe it myself.

If I was right, it meant the entire
network had been blown apart

and F2 section was finished. Over.

It was unthinkable, but there it was.

I didn't dare tell anyone,
not without proof.

There was only one thing I could do.

There was an agent in France
I knew personally.

His name was Edward Sykes and
he'd helped set up the network.

It was dangerous,

but I got into a plane equipped with
a directional microwave transceiver,

and I flew over Northern France.

That way, I was actually able
to speak to him directly.

Sykes, are you receiving me?

This is Peter Hawtrey.

Over.

Sykes.

Hello, Peter. How are you?

I need to know about you, Ed.

How are things with you?

Is everything all right? Over.

Everything is good.

It is good.

We spoke for ten minutes.

I knew at once it wasn't Ed.

He had a German accent,
for Christ's sake.

~ And this was...
~ 10th March, 1944.

Eight weeks before Elise
was dropped into France.

I went to see Woodhead. I
knew he wouldn't like it.

The bastard ran F2 like it
was his own personal crusade.

But he had to know the truth.

~ Is that what you told him?
~ Yes. He didn't believe it.

He refused to believe it.

He thought I was mad.

I made him promise to talk
it over with Hilda Pierce,

and a few days later,
she contacted me.

This is the letter.

Signed by her.

You see?

The bitch fired me!

~ How did you get this?
~ Internal mail. It was in my pigeonhole.

~ And what did you do?
~ What could I do?

That same day, I packed
my things and left.

Well, why did you never
approach me directly?

Why did you never tell anyone else?

You were away. I never
got the chance.

~ But you told Miles Corrigan.
~ I didn't know he would
try to kill you. I'm sorry.

But the war's over now.
He had a right to know.

And now he's dead!

He's dead because of you!

Have you any idea how
much harm you've caused?

I didn't write that letter.

My signature was forged.

Thank you, Mr Foyle.

I always knew I could rely on you.

I was expecting you.

I thought I should tell you
that Hilda knows everything.

I'm so very sorry.

Yes, so am I.

You knew from the beginning
that there was no Plato?

Yes.

And yet you went ahead with a
three-month inquiry into a double
agent that never existed?

I was SOE. You didn't ask questions.
You did what you were told.

Like you did when you spied on me?

You have to understand.

It's not you. It's not me.

It's the world that we inhabit.

Hilda?

I had to see you, Ian.

The thing is, I saw Hawtrey.

Ah. How is he?

He showed me the letter.

I didn't fire him. You did. You couldn't
let the truth come out, could you?

Hawtrey is wrong. It
was all supposition.

No, he was right!

You knew there was a good chance...

that Elise would be killed...

the moment she stepped
off that plane in France,

but you still let her
go. You didn't care.

And when she died -

the ninth agent in less
than three months -

you realised you had
to cover your tracks.

So you invented Plato.

No, Plato was not an invention.
There was always a possibility -

No, there wasn't!

There was never a traitor
in the SOE, and you know it!

You were deliberately sending
those girls to their death.

They were tortured.
They were executed.

~ Why?
~ You know why.

You have to remember how it
was. They were all against us.

Bomber Command, Whitehall, MI5, MI6.

Even de Gaulle and the Free French.

They would have closed us
down in the blink of an eye.

~ If they'd found out.
~ It wasn't just that.

We wanted the same thing, you and I.

We had to make it to D-Day.

If they had known our circuits
in France had been compromised,

our role in the war
would have been over.

But you never told me!

Because you would have stopped me!

Of course I would!

I trusted you.

All those years we worked together.

And those girls.

My girls.

Did you never think?

I can't live with it.

~ I can't.
~ It's all in the past, Hilda.

We did what we had to
but it's behind us now.

Not for me.

I cannot accept what we did.

We're gonna be late.

I hate funerals.

So do I.

I'm going to tell him today.

Mr Foyle.

Everyone's so sad, anyway.

It won't make any difference.

Don't be sad.

You saved my career. Again.

And you're gonna be a mother.

Do you think I'll be any good?

I think you'll be perfect.

Come.

Hilda Pierce was not a religious woman.
She would not want me to talk about God.

But she might want
me to talk about duty,

and courage and fortitude.

She was part of a very special breed.

She and the agents
with whom she worked.

And I will miss her all the more because
I fear we will not see her like again.

Sir.

Yes?

~ Erm...
~ Problem?

~ No, no. I just wanted to tell you something.
~ What's that?

I hate letting you down, but I'm
going to have to hand in my notice.

The fact is, you could say I'm PWP.

Pregnant without permission?

Afraid so.

Well, you choose your moments.

~ I wanted to get it over with.
~ Good thinking.

So it means I'm going to
be rather busy for a while.

Well, I do understand.

I don't like to leave
you on your own.

Well, I might be OK.

I don't know about the rest
of the country, but...

I'd really like it if
you'd be the godfather.

Honoured.

~ Thank you.
~ A pleasure.