All language subtitles for The.Doctor.Blake.Mysteries.S01E02.The.Greater.Good.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DD+2.0.H.264-playWEB_track3_[eng]

I understand your concern.

But I think you'll find her
blood pressure will stabilize

over the next 24 hours,
given the correct course

of antibiotics.

We will, of course, continue
to monitor her condition.

Do shut up.

Are you sure?
- Yeah.

Are you sure?

Yeah, why not?

Oh!

What are you doing?

I slipped.

- Come on.
- Help me up.

Come on.

There's something
on the floor.

A doctor and a
nurse found him.

Right.

What were they doing down here?

Hmm.

No.

Really, here?

Mm.

We've taken statements.

Well--

A wound to the back of the head.

Looks like he fell
here, obviously.

Might explain the blood, eh?

Or it was slippery.

Yes, maybe.

Excuse me.

Who are you?

Hugh Stevens, sir.

I'm the new assistant.

Where's Ron?

Ron doesn't work here anymore.

Why not?

I do now.

I'll leave you to it.

Right, well, I'm
Doctor Lucien Blake.

Let's get him up on
the table, shall we?

Well, how do we do that?

You'll be taking his legs.

Right.

Are you ready, Hugh?

I guess so.

Good.

Now I'm going to ask you
to hand me the bone saw.

You're going to cut him open?

No, I thought I might tear
him apart with my teeth.

You do know what a bone
saw looks like, yes?

I can't find it.

It's a saw.

It's not here.

Any other saws there?

No.

Are you sure you were looking
in the right place, Hugh?

This is where the tools
go, but they're not here.

Nothing at all?

Nothing.

No saws?

No clamps?

No.

You're new to all
this, aren't you?

Hugh, what's wrong?

I just never thought I'd
have to watch Uncle Bert

being cut open, that's all.

Apparently, Bert sacked Ron
Jackson a couple of days ago.

We know.

Hugh wasn't sure, but
I can't imagine Ron would

have been too happy about that.

He wasn't.

Parks has been asking questions.

People heard him threaten
to come back and kill Bert.

Well, I'm guessing
he came back

and took the autopsy instruments
too, well, most of them.

Most?

It's a long story.

Do you think it's
worth perhaps--

Dragging Ron Jackson
into the station?

Yes.

Hobart's been to his place.

There's no one there.

You've been busy.

You don't
know the half of it.

Really?
Do tell.

The brass are
coming in from all

over the place for Anzac Day.

The Army's on my back.

Two soldiers have buggered
off from the base down

in South Australia.

Official bloody Secrecy Act.

Happy times.

I'll perform that
autopsy tomorrow

with my own instruments.

Right.

Uh, Doc.

You know, um-- you know Mattie.

She went on a date
with Ron Jackson.

Danny, you're not to
tease her about this.

No, no, no, no,
no, of course not.

No, this is a serious matter.

No, well, it is.

He might have murdered someone.

Oh, Mr. Bradley,
would you mind?

Yes.

Look, I know you have my
best interests at heart, Cec,

but I am perfectly
comfortable right here.

Oh, I understand, sir.

But I do believe
that you will find

the new armchair in the club
bar just as accommodating.

Why don't you throw
caution to the wind

and try calling me Lucien?

After all, we've only known
each other since I was five.

Of course, sir.

Now, about that armchair--

I accept defeat.

Where is this bloody chair?

This way, sir.

How's that
knee of yours, by the way?

Oh, much improved, sir.

And thank you for this.

I needed to clear the
reading room for Anzac Day.

There's some army
people in town.

Of course.

Anything else I have to give up?

A few personal
liberties, perhaps?

Controversial, sir?

Not at all.

We should give up our armchairs
whenever the powers that be

ask us to.

Are you totally
sure about Ron?

Well, it doesn't
look good for him.

Why, what's he like?

He insisted on
telling me about boxing.

Boxing.

It was all
he talked about.

But he seemed like a
gentleman, unlike you.

So does your
bloke in Melbourne

know that you're out dancing
with a murder suspect?

Which proves my point.

Oh.

Sorry, a patient left a
message for you yesterday,

Sally Clements.

I left a number on your desk,
told her you'd call her back.

Right, very good.

Oh, Jean, just
while I think of it,

don't suppose you've seen
a saw, have you, about--

oh, about--

Do you mean this one?

Yes, you used it to carve the
roast a couple of days ago.

Oh.

I knew I used it for something.

Thank you.

Is she
still going for that job

at the Royal Cross Hotel?

Well, I'm sure that's
a matter for her.

Oops.

Will you be here
for lunch today?

Um, not sure.

Performing an autopsy this
morning, Bert Prentice.

Oh.

You knew him?

Oh, yes, I know the family.

Lots of stories
about the Prentices.

What kind of stories?

The kind of stories about
people who work in morgues.

Thought he was
a nice man, shy.

Um.

I have an interview
this afternoon

for that new position
at the Royal Cross,

unless you need something.

I don't think so, no.

That should be fine.

Yes, a blow to the back of
the head, quite a deep cut.

Some surface veins severed,
extensive blood loss.

Indentation matches the edge
of an iron stool in there.

Skin and blood under the
nails as yet unidentified.

It supports the hypothesis
that someone else was present.

The cause of death, a
single well-directed blow

to the windpipe,
crushing it instantly.

A blow delivered, I'd
say, with a closed fist.

And I'd suggest left-handed,
judging by the--

by the angle of impact.

One punch?

Well, this is not your usual
barney after a break and enter.

Now, this was a very,
very particular blow.

Ron Jackson.

Mattie said he's a keen boxer.

Keen?

Bloody regional champion.

No one's laid a glove on him.

Any sign of him?

Not yet.

Parks is searching old
Bert Prentice's place

for any other evidence
linked to Jackson.

Well, I might warn your men.

If this is the work of Ron
Jackson, he's dangerous.

"Laughs and Lovelies."

Police.

Hey.

Ah!

Hey!

Stay were you are!

Hey!

Stop, you bloody idiot!

McRae?

Gordon McRae.

Yes.

Sally Clements left
another message for you.

And?

She's wondering
whether you prescribe

medicine over the phone.

Of course, I don't.

Yes, well, I told her that.

Can you get her to
make an appointment?

I told her that too.

Or I can make a house call.

It's not rocket science.

Anything else?
I don't think so.

Right.

Well, I'll call her back.

Oh, honestly.

Tell her I examine
patients first,

then I prescribe, not
the other way around.

It's ridic-- what now?

Superintendent Lawson for you.

Yes.

Gordon McRae.

I didn't do anything.

Break and enter,
assault, resist arrest--

That copper came at me.

I was minding my own business.

At Bert Prentice's house?

Oh, bloody hell!

Oh, tender, eh?

But otherwise all right.

He's given you quite a tap.

Oh, come on.

Don't you start.

I didn't say anything.

I just wouldn't let the bloke
get a swing at me, that's all.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Who is this bloke?

Small-time crim.

He had a bit of black market,
the usual stolen stuff.

McRae's had it in
for Bert for years.

Assault with intent,
assault with weapon,

property damage,
property damage again,

all this against Bert Prentice.

You must really hate the bloke.

Don't have to answer that.

Oh, you better start thinking
of some answers, Gordon.

What were you doing
at Bert's house?

Having a beer.

With your old mate,
Bert, is that right?

If we went to the hospital, do
you think we could find someone

who saw you there last night?

What were you doing
at the hospital?

I never said I was there.

You didn't have to.

Any sign of Ron Jackson yet?

No, not yet.

I guess that makes things a
little less cut and dried.

Maybe.

McRae can stew in the
interview room for a while.

We're still looking
for Ron Jackson.

Hmm.

You thought about contacting
some of the regional hospitals?

You think he's been
going around murdering

mortuary assistants?

No.

Just selling
autopsy instruments.

That's where I'd go.

Bendigo, Geelong,
Shepparton, call them.

- Right.
- And you can go home.

I've got enough on my plate.

Boss.

Oh, never stops.

Go home.

Major Alderton, Matthew Lawson.

Sergeant Robert Hannam.

Very nice to meet you.

Now, Canberra's briefed you?

We've received a description
of the two deserters.

Just one now but the
same conditions apply.

The station's resources
are at your disposal.

Thank you very much.

Not quite.

Not me.

Well, you just said we're
all at his disposal.

I'm certainly not.

Oh, for Christ's sake, Blake.

You employ this
man, Superintendent?

W--

Well, then my
opinion of your station

has just taken a
dramatic improvement.

I don't see you for years.

And suddenly, you
appear out of nowhere.

Oh, it's my town, Derek.

What's your excuse?

Oh, official
business and all that.

But if you're free later,
there will be whisky.

Love it.

Excellent.

Give your telephone number and
address to the sergeant here.

Come on through to the office.

I'll see you later, Lucien.

Certainly.

Doctor?

Sally Clements,
she called earlier.

Yes, of course.

Mrs. Clements, come on through.

Nice to meet you.

And these lesions--

Sores.

Yes, sores.

You've had them
around your mouth?

And inside, and in my throat.

And now they're gone?

Yeah.

And the bleeding
from the gums?

Well, it came on
at the same time.

And that's cleared up too?

For now.

I see.

Well, may I, um--

I'll help you down.

May I suggest we run
some blood tests?

No.

I just-- I just need
something for it.

And-- and I'll go home.

I can't prescribe medicine if
I don't know what you've got.

Please, Doctor.

I'm not even sure you're sick.

I am.

Look, these
symptoms you speak of

could be any number
of complaints.

And right now, you
don't have any of them.

They're real.

Lesions leave marks.

And as for hair loss--

please, Mrs. Clements.

Tell me
what's really going

on because you're not sick,
not in the way you describe.

Mrs. Clements.

Parks.

Yeah?

Just had a call
from Bendigo Hospital.

There's a bloke up there
trying to sell autopsy tools.

Oh, what, Jackson?

Well, he fits the description.

Apparently, he's
on his way here.

Boss wants us to
intercept him out of town.

We don't know how
dangerous this bloke is.

But I don't want civilians
involved if it goes arse up.

Well, so will we
armed then, sir?

Too bloody right.

The uniforms with the Army.

So you two are on your own.

But you know the drill.

Eyes open.

You cover each other.

Don't let this guy get
the drop on you, right?

Right.

Are you up for it?

Yeah, of course, I am.

What did you say to her?

She looked as if she
was ready to cry.

I'm really not sure.

Do you know her?

I know of her.

She fell in with a lad from
out of town, got pregnant,

lost the baby.

Family?

They never married, so--

Ah.

So the family has
nothing to do with her.

Mm.

Did she leave an address?

Mm.

Oh, very good.

I might take that,
call in on her later.

Staying for lunch?

Um.

Well, um--

About that, I, um--

I don't think I will be.

But listen, good luck with
that interview this afternoon.

Sergeant Hannam.

Doctor.

The major's done
quite well for himself.

Yes, sir.

You know, my dad's old car,
it's just that, old and slow.

I'm guessing this isn't.

That's right, sir.

How about you show
me what she can do, eh?

Come on!

Bloody come on.

Oh.

You all right?

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

So you call yourself a boxer.

Come on!
Give me your best shot!

Ah!

You know, I had hoped
we'd be able to persuade

you back into the fold.

We need skilled
intelligence more than ever.

Tell me.

Are we looking to America now,
or is it still the old country?

Oh, you know the story.

There's only 10 million of us.

We need big friends.

Still, setting
off nuclear bombs

in the desert for
Mother England,

how does that keep
the red hordes at bay?

Ah.

You were involved, and
you can't talk about it.

Well, I'm simply an Army
serviceman working in--

working in administration.

Yes, I remember.

Come on, admit it.

You miss the work, suits that
labyrinthine brain of yours.

You know, you only
have to say the word.

They ever find them?

No.

Bad business.

Well, they weren't
the only ones to go

missing when Singapore fell.

I make inquiries.

Every now and then, someone
thinks they've seen them.

Believe it or not, Derek, my
little girl would be 23 now.

And you never remarried?

No.

You always were too tragically
heroic for this world.

Me, I prefer to leave the
past where it belongs.

Hm, thank you.

And you believe this?

Not really, no.

We lost some people,
didn't we, Lucien?

Friends.

A lot of friends.

Here's to all of them.

To all of them.

Nothing like being
legless by 2 o'clock.

Cec.

Sir, there's another phone
call from Inspector Lawson,

something about a Ron Jackson.

Thank you.

We've recovered
the autopsy tools.

He tried to sell
them in Bendigo.

Apparently, he resisted.

Are the cuffs
really necessary?

Well, you were the one who
warned us he was dangerous.

Have you been drinking?

I'll need the usual
incident report on Jackson.

Ah, yes, the
report, the one that

mentions how he
savagely attacked

your men with his face.

The bloke made threats against
Bert Prentice and stole tools

from the morgue the
night he was murdered.

Your men beat him up, Lawson.

I've got enough to deal with.

Report on my desk.

And no drinking while on call.

I don't know about this.

And I don't know
about Ron Jackson.

Didn't stop you beating
him up, though, did it?

It's hard to explain.

Mm.

Have the photos I asked for?

Thank you.

Come lie down for me, Danny.

Like this.

Good.

Just that way a little.

Excellent.

So why are
you doing this?

Because I'm obsessive
about the cleanliness

of hospital floors.

Ron Jackson didn't
attack you, did he?

No bruising on his hands, no
gray skin on his knuckles.

What happened?

He smacked me across the face.

Oh, really?

How hard?

With a closed fist?

You try bringing in a
guy who's just punched

in someone's throat, all right?

Danny.

Well, that's interesting.

What is?

Blood flow.

You see here?

The back of his head.

Blood pools out, follows the
fall of the floor to the waste.

So?

So why is there blood
over here on the grouting?

How did it get here?

And it's faded.

Well, maybe it's old.

Mm.

Danny.

Well, it's Bert's blood type.

So what does that mean?

It means that someone
cleaned the floor--

well, at least,
one section of it--

before the police got here.

What was Bert doing
down here anyway?

Well, he would have
been working on a body.

Which one?

Danny, Inspector Lawson
in a good mood today?

What are you talking about?

Look, the ambos
brought in a body

yesterday in pretty
bad condition.

In fact, their
incident report says,

"the body a total mess
with vomit and feces,

multiple lesions.

Cause of death, unknown."

Well?

Hello?

Where's the body?

Well, how the
hell should I know?

Well, I checked with
Hugh, he doesn't know either.

Blake.

Look, someone killed
Bert, and then cleaned

a small area of floor
between the body

and the front of the locker.

Now, why would you do that?

Well, to cover up the
evidence of a murder.

Wouldn't-- wouldn't you
clean the entire floor?

And wouldn't you at least
try to hide the body?

Look, maybe they're not
trying to hide Bert's murder.

Maybe they're trying
to hide something else,

like stealing a body.

Oh.

And I have Ron Jackson's
incident report.

Look, I've got Ron Jackson
and Gordon McRae in custody.

I've got the Army breathing down
my neck about this deserter--

Weren't there two?

And I have a police surgeon
who's been drinking since 2

o'clock in the afternoon.

Ron Jackson is out of bounds.

Go home and sober up.

Parks.

What did you tell the doc?

Nothing.

Mate.

Constable, Ron
Jackson was apprehended

on the Midland Highway
at approximately 12:50

PM, correct?

Yeah.

While being escorted
to the police cells,

the prisoner attempted escape.

We panicked, sir.

The prisoner attempted escape.

He struck you a number of times.

Sergeant Hobart
managed to subdue him.

The bloke hit you.

You managed to place
the prisoner in the cell,

and the police
surgeon was notified.

Police surgeon was pissed.

Well, I think we'll
leave that bit out.

Is this correct?

Yes, sir.

There's your report.

Write it up.

You, go to the hospital.

No one gets to see Ron
Jackson unless they're

a nurse or a copper.

Sir.

Danny and his
mates, they beat him up?

Yes.

It's called resisting arrest.

Would you hold that
for me, please, Mattie?

But Ron just isn't the sort of
person who would hurt anybody.

Is he the sort of person who'd
steal a body from a morgue?

I didn't think so.

Hey, would you plug
that in for me?

Over there, Mattie.

And then just pop
it on the stool.

What is that?

One of the benefits of living
and working in a mining town.

It's called luminol.

Picks up traces of iron.

Invented last century,
used to locate iron ore.

The Nazis worked out they
could also use it to detect

the presence of blood.

Even when it had
been cleaned away.

Whoever killed Bert, it
seems they stole the body.

And I want to know why.

The lights, please.

Well, looks like someone's
made a trip to the fridge.

We need to get a match
for this shoe size.

Whoa, whoa, whoa,
whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

I can't let you in.

Why not?

Well, it's off-limits.

Nursing staff only.

That's fine by me.

You can do this, and
I'll stand guard.

I don't think so.

You don't work here.

Don't [STIFF-LIPPED] do
this to me, all right?

Boss said Ron's off-limits.

Just leave it.

Oh, did the boss also
tell you to beat the living

daylights out of him?

So who else are you
going to beat up?

Are you going to
throw a punch at me?

It's complicated.

No, it's simple.

I'm going in to see him.

Mattie.

Bloody hell.

Be quick.

Mattie?

Mattie O'Brien?

Mm.

How did you get in here?

They haven't let me see anyone.

What did they do to your face?

They think I killed someone.

I-- I didn't do it.

I need to ask you something.

You don't believe me.

I need some answers.

Is that OK?

Yeah.

You stole the instruments
from the morgue.

Is that right?

I'd just been sacked.

I had no money.

Did you see anything
there, anything suspicious?

No.

Was anyone else there?

No, Bert was on his break.

Mattie, I really didn't do it.

I really didn't.

One more thing.

What size shoe are you?

What?

What size shoe?

I don't know,
like, 10, I think.

Excuse me.

What are you doing?

Mattie.

He's the same boot size.

You do realize
that life was a lot simpler

when your father was here?

So people keep telling me.

I really thought this
wouldn't fit Ron Jackson.

Maybe he's not the only one
who wears boots this size.

You still thinking
Gordon McRae?

People saw him skulking
around the hospital.

We searched his place.

Apparently, he's been knocking
off hospital blankets.

But I gather you don't think
it's Gordon McRae's style.

No, there's something very
planned about all of it.

Yes.

Mattie doesn't think Ron
Jackson has it in him either.

Is that because you don't
want to be proved wrong?

Probably.

Shaping up to be an interesting
Anzac Day, isn't it?

Listen, are you still
looking for that deserter?

Well, the Army's handling it.

We're just here to
add local color.

Yes.

You think there's
anything in the fact

that originally they were
looking for two deserters

and now it's just the one?

Bloody hell, Blake.

Don't go there.

Your man's got clearance
all the way up to Canberra.

So what are you going to do?

I'm going to leave Ron
Jackson in the hospital

and Gordon McRae in his cell.

I'm going to go home and
get a good night's sleep

and not think about it
till after the parade.

I suggest you do the same.

"Body a total mess,
multiple lesions.

Cause of death, unknown."

Well, where's the body?

Lesions leave marks.

Right now, you don't
have any of them.

Yes?

Mrs. Clements,
I know what's wrong.

Skin lesions, hair loss,
nausea, gastric upset,

all classic symptoms
of radiation sickness.

But it's not you who's sick.

It's your husband.

Please, your husband
is desperately ill.

The man he deserted
with has died already

and so will your husband if we
don't get him to a hospital.

No.

Mrs. Clements, I'm
an ex-serviceman.

I give my word, my word.

I'll look after him.

I feel so scared.

I thought the Army might
come looking in the house.

I don't think they had
any idea you were married.

Why not?

Well, that's what saved you.

Hey, Jimmy.

Doctor's here now.

Hello, Jimmy.

Jimmy, I'm Dr. Lucien Blake.

And I'm going to do everything
I can to help you get better.

All right?

Yeah, Doc.

Good man.

Yes?

Um, I couldn't help
but hear the wireless.

Oh.

May I?

Of course, yeah.

Thank you.

Um.

How did the interview go?

Oh, fine.

Fine?

Yes, it's a lovely building.

And I'm sure there'll
be plenty of work.

And they'll treat you well.

Apparently.

Good.

Good.

Um.

May I?

Oh, yes.

Thank you.

Uh.

Look, I've-- I've had
some time to think

about whether or not I--

I need a housekeeper.

And the truth is probably not.

I mean, it's lovely,
really lovely

having you look after me.

But that's probably just, you
know, very lazy on my part.

Right.

How do I-- what I do
need is help, a blind eye

every now and then, a damn
good talking to at other times.

You know, I'm sure
there may well

be days where it's all a bit--

Confusing?

Yes.

Yes.

It won't be like it was
with my father with me.

With me, it will always
be somewhat messier.

So are you trying
to say that--

Yes, yes.

Yes.

You said you needed some help?

Yes.

What can you tell me about
the Royal Cross Hotel?

Rather grand, isn't it?

Yes, it is.

Keys are at the porter's desk.

Right.

Well, good luck.

You too.

Better make
yourself scarce, eh?

Derek, there you are.

Lucien, what the devil--

We were interrupted earlier.

You mad bastard.

Come and sit down.

Hannam's welcome to
join us, of course.

He's already in there.

Although, he's not
one for drinking.

Nonsense.

I insist.

You always were
a pushy beggar.

Come on.

Derek, I've been
thinking about your offer,

coming back into the fold.

I might call it a night, sir.

Of course.

Sergeant, stay, please.

I insist.

Anyone serving with the
major is most certainly

a friend of mine.

A toast, eh?

To soldiers.

All soldiers.

Past and present.

Hear, hear.

About those bombs of
yours in the desert, Derek.

They're not my bombs, Lucien.

Oh, that's right.

They're England's bombs.

Of course, sir.

You want to set off nuclear
warheads in our country?

We're honored.

Anything we can do to help, eh?

Strange coincidence, though.

I had a woman come
into my surgery

today, claiming all
manner of symptoms--

hair loss, skin lesions, nausea.

Of course, the only
thing I could think of

was radiation poisoning.

Completely absurd, I know.

And, of course, she was
making the whole thing up,

wouldn't even let
me take bloods.

Who was she?

Oh, just some patient of mine.

I suspect she's read
about the tests.

And now she thinks
she's poisoned.

Some people, eh?

Was there a name?

Yes, now, um--

gosh, I'm blowed
if I can remember.

Why?

Well, part of our role
is public education.

If some people need reassurance,
we're only too happy to help.

Are you?

Well, I'm sure I
have her details,

address, back at the surgery.

Good.

Now, unfortunately, we
have got a very early start

in the morning, dawn
service and all that.

So if you don't mind,
I'll get the sergeant

to give you a lift home.

Certainly.

Thank you.

And while
you're there, why don't

you give him that address?

We'll see her first
thing after the parade,

put her mind at rest.

A splendid idea.

I'm sure she'd appreciate it.

Whenever you're ready, sir.

Mm.

Derek.

Lucien.

You sleep well.

Thank you, Sergeant.

Interesting.

What's that, sir?

Left-handed.

That's right.

Why?

No particular reason.

Just surprised they didn't
beat that out of you in school.

Well, they tried, sir.

Sergeant.

Right.

Now that address.

It'll just take me a moment
to remember where I left it.

Shall I help you
look for it, sir?

Uh, that would be grand.

Yes, thank you.

Probably won't find
it there, Sergeant.

Of course.

Any luck?

Not yet, no.

I'll keep looking.

You might want to take
your gloves off, Sergeant.

I gather from all accounts
radiation sickness

is a terrible way to die.

But, of course, you'd
know that, wouldn't you,

from the condition of the body
you stole from the morgue?

I beg your pardon, sir.

It's interesting, isn't it?

One blow to the
throat was all it took

to kill that morgue attendant.

Oh, is that it?

No.

Bugger.

I'll keep looking.

The major would like
that address, sir.

And we mustn't disappoint him.

Is that what you're saying?

The man you killed
had his throat

crushed by a single blow.

A blow delivered by
a left-handed punch.

The blood and tissue under
his fingernails was his own.

He clawed his own throat
trying to breathe.

And, yes, you were
very careful, Sergeant.

You even managed
to mop the floor.

That address, sir!

Oh, for god's sake, Sergeant.

Did it ever occur to you
that one day, one day, it

might be your body rotting
from radiation that

has to be stolen from a morgue?

Mm.

You don't have that
address, do you, sir?

No, I don't.

Let him go.

You'll have to kill both of
us to get away, Sergeant.

Did you prepare for that?

My Christopher was
a sergeant too.

This is his pistol.

But he died in the Solomons.

I wonder what he'd make of you.

Thank you, Jane.

Sergeant Robert Hannam,
3rd regiment, 4th division.

You understand, Sergeant,
that these boots, which we found

in your hotel still
have traces of Albert

Prentice's blood on them?

Army number 26052.

They also matched the
bootprint found in the morgue

next to the locker from which
you stole the body of persons

unknown.

Do you have anything
to say about that?

Sergeant Robert Hannam,
3rd regiment 4th division.

We also retrieved
from your possessions

this page, which you tore
from the mortuary log

to hide the fact that the body
was there in the first place.

Not all of this is your
responsibility, Sergeant.

You were following orders.

Now, tell us who
told you to do this.

And tell us what you did with
the body of the serviceman

you took from the morgue.

Sergeant Robert Hannam,
3rd regiment, 4th division.

Army number 26052.

Sorry, sir.

But there's a Major
Alderton here to see you.

Are you quite sure?

I understand the
forensic evidence for murder

is conclusive.

However, the body that
was taken from the morgue

is still missing.

Has Sergeant Hannam
made any admissions?

No.

Is there anything else you'd
like to add to the record?

Well, I'd like to express
my complete disapproval

at the Sergeant's actions.

Of course, you understand,
Superintendent,

this will now become a matter
for a military tribunal.

I'll inform my superiors.

I'll take it from here.

Interesting times, Lucien.

Depressingly familiar.

Soldiers being used and then
simply thrown away, where have

we seen and heard that before?

You know as well
as I do that there

are bigger issues at stake.

Well, for who?

Servicemen dying of
radiation poisoning?

Sergeant Hannam being
thrown to the wolves?

It doesn't get any
bigger for them.

Small town life has
made you soft, Lucien.

Well, I'm starting to think
maybe that's not a bad thing.

You and I survived 3 and 1/2
years in a POW camp together.

And what have we learned?

Come in.

Good day.

Uh, I thought that you
could do with some of this.

Thanks.

No worries.

Actually, I came to
say that I'm sorry.

Sorry.

Good morning.

And to you.

Look a little tired.

And you look very smart.

Oh.

Um.

Um.

I hope last night, I, um--

I wasn't asking too much of you.

No, I like to be useful.

You are more than
useful, that's for certain.

Um, did, uh-- do you hear
anything from the, uh,

Royal Cross people about--

I don't think they'll be
offering me that job now.

Ah.

After last night.

Hm.

I am sorry.

I am-- actually--

actually, I'm rather glad.

It's good to see
Christopher's medals.

You could wear
yours too, Lucien.

March well today.

Good day, Gary.

Good day, Bill.
How are you?

Good.

Cec.

Gentlemen.

What's this for?

I, um, thank you.

I thought you and your
mates might enjoy a drink.

Thank you, Lucien.

My pleasure, Cec.