Original subtitles

Go.

You lose.

Fine. I lose. Whatever. I'll...

Next one'll go down a lot smoother. I'm just warming up.

You need to relax and open your throat.

Well, I'd be a lot more relaxed

if you hadn't stuck a gun to the back of my head, wouldn't I?

- It was a good joke, yes? - Don't worry. I'll get you back.

Don't know how. Maybe I'll just stick a grenade under your pillows. How's that?

This is good. We are bonding.

- Same job, different bosses. - Yeah.

So, how long did you know I was following you for then?

Since you got on your bike.

Oh, God. Jesus. That's not embarrassing at all, is it?

Don't feel bad. We do security too.

It's our job to spot people.

Same job, but we are better. - Yeah, yeah.

Hey, by the way, I know now why you didn't want us to,

you know, know you were staying here.

Why do you think that is? - 'Cause it's a shithole.

Yes, shithole.

But compared to my place in Moscow, a palace.

Your English is a lot better than it was earlier.

- Another toast. - Oh. Okay.

- To secret meetings. - Sure. Pravda!

Mmm.

Mmm.

- Who's that? - A friend.

Get him to join us.

Not a drinking man.

Oh. Then he's not a real man, is he?

What's up?

Nothing. Our friend is tired.

We should bring this night to an end.

Ah. - One more for good luck.

Pravda.

There it is. It's fine.

Oi, oi, oi, oi.

I'm fine. I'm fine, thank you. I'm fine. - You sure?

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

That's 'cause you spiked my vodka.

No, we didn't. - Yeah.

Yes, you did. You spiked my vodka with vodka.

See? Right. - Be careful, okay?

Look before you make turns.

Okay, Mum. Thank you very much.

Should I call you a taxi?

No. I'll be... I'll be fine once I get going.

There you go.

Hi. What can I get you?

Actually, I'm just checking in for the night.

Johnnie Walker?

Yes. Yes, I am.

Sorry, you threw me.

It's... It's Jonathon, or Jon. It's not Johnnie. Sorry.

- Do you get that a lot? - Yeah, mainly in pubs.

Great.

Follow me.

What brings you to Upshott?

I'm a journalist.

Uh, I've been writing a piece about village life,

and, um... Well, Upshott just seemed like the perfect place to start, really.

Who do you write for? Insomniacs Weekly?

No, uh, The Times.

Oh.

Yeah. This is lovely.

Well, I can give you the headlines.

Apart from the village pub downstairs and the village shop,

there really is fuck all going on.

Well, where there's people, there's stories.

Boring stories.

No. You ask the right questions, you can normally find something interesting.

You know, everyone has a secret.

Well, don't be asking too many questions.

We tend to sacrifice troublemaking strangers to the Green Man.

Oh. I need to get you some towels.

Um, I need to get back downstairs,

but I will leave them outside your door later.

Okay. - Here.

Anything else?

Uh, no, no. All good. Thank you.

Okay. I'll see you later, Johnnie Walker.

Just Jon.

How safe do you think River is?

He's gone to the Cotswolds, Standish, not the Helmand Province.

No, I know Dickie's killer isn't in Upshott,

but he must have a contact there.

His Cicada.

Yeah, but that's who I'm hoping to flush out.

The killer's name is likely Chernitsky, by the way.

Doesn't ring any bells.

Well, why would it?

I'm sure you remember what I did before I came here, Jackson.

Yeah, you drank for England.

I was privy to a lot of ops, a lot of high-level intel,

and I'm just saying... I never came across the name Chernitsky.

Well, the Park has a file on him.

So either... shock, horror... you're not the big cheese you were making out,

or your mind's starting to go.

It's probably a bit of both.

What's the file say?

Well, it's patchy. There's a... a few known aliases.

I gave them to Ho.

Shirley's checking Heathrow's CCTV for flights to Estonia.

So, if she spots him,

we'll be able to make a match with whatever passport he used

to see where else he pops up.

Well, if there's a Cicada in Upshott,

he'll yank the alarm cord, and, uh, Chernitsky will pop up there.

River doesn't know he's bait, does he?

Of course he fucking does.

Were you thinkin' I'm a monster?

Lamb.

One of your agents is dead.

- Yeah? - Just... Yeah, just came out of nowhere,

and I just...

All right. You're gonna have to give an official statement.

MI5.

Forensics. They haven't been here yet.

Can you just stand... - My joe? No, I can't.

Who's going to tell Louisa?

And the only explanation is, he'd been drinking.

God, we had a row. That's why he was drunk.

- You can't blame yourself. - Yes, I can.

I know what it's like to lose a colleague that you're close to,

to feel it's your fault...

No, Charles Partner killed himself.

And we weren't just colleagues, Catherine.

- There's probably nothing I can... - No, there isn't.

Do you want me to stay? - No, I don't. Thank you very much.

Can you leave, please?

Oh. Hey, Dad.

Just out for a stroll. Thought I'd walk you home.

Who's staying in the guest room?

He's a journalist.

He's writing an article on village life.

Is he a proper journalist, or a pretend one?

Says he works for The Times.

There's no escape.

Ah. Hello. - Hi.

So, have you just been here all night then?

No. I come in early to set the bar.

Ah. - Make a bit of extra cash.

And I, uh...

I lock the door so that the village alcoholics,

by which I mean the villagers, don't, um, barge in and demand a breakfast lock-in.

Right.

And there you were, telling me that life here is boring, and that...

Well, that just does not sound boring.

What are you up to today?

Uh, I don't know.

Thought I might just wander around the village.

Get a feel for the place. - Why don't I come with you?

I can show you around.

Uh, yeah. That would be great. Yeah. - Yeah?

I've got a spare ten minutes.

And then, um,

would your expenses stretch to a private aircraft?

Uh, yeah. Who's flying?

Me.

So, um, how long have you lived here?

All my life. - Right.

Well, apart from, uh, three years at uni,

and then I came back here to consider my next move,

which I'm still considering.

And your parents? Did they grow up here too?

No. No, they were incomers.

They moved here from London just before I was born.

And why was that then?

Usual stuff. Um, swapping the noise and crime for a slower pace of life.

And my dad got into flying.

So... ...his hobby became his job.

Right. So he's a pilot then?

No. No, he owns the flying club.

Oh, right, right. - Mmm.

See, that's, um... That's it.

Oh.

You fancy an aerial view?

Here.

Hack that.

I wanna know where he went in the last 24 hours.

There's blood on it. Whose is it?

Harper's.

You knew, didn't you?

Yeah.

Shame. He was okay for an average guy.

Fucking hell.

I hope you don't get to write my obit.

Come the fuck in if you're coming.

Sit. - No, I'm fine.

No, you're not.

Okay.

If there's someone you want to talk to...

I'm talking to you.

Well, I think we both know

these kind of conversations are not my forte.

Well, I'm not gonna speak to some shrink at the Park,

if that's what you're suggesting.

Oh, anger already?

Aren't you supposed to go through denial first?

What is it, um... Denial, anger, drinking, hmm?

More drinking.

There's something else. Um... I know acceptance comes in somewhere.

I've accepted it. He was, uh, an idiot for cycling pissed.

I want you to vouch for me with Webb.

I have nothing to do with Webb.

Okay, Taverner then. I wanna stay on the job.

I'm not gonna stay at home and stare at the walls all day long.

And they need me. I'm-I'm the only one the Russians trust.

You really think you're up to it?

You've lost people, haven't you?

And I bet you went straight back in to work.

And that's all I'm asking. For you to allow me to do the same thing.

Yeah.

The anti-capitalist marchers' message is simple.

The needs of the citizens should come before the needs of the shareholders.

One figure who is a target for much of the protesters' anger

is Home Secretary Peter Judd,

both for his financial entanglements...

You'll remember there was a question mark over his...

Current estimates are upwards of 10,000 already.

Judd's speech is scheduled for midday at the Royal Exchange.

We pick him up at 10:00 from a breakfast meeting at his club in Whitehall.

Front and back, we have police motorcycle outriders, followed by service vehicles.

I ride with Judd in the ministerial car.

Ooh, lucky you.

The protest is routed towards the Royal Exchange down Gresham Street.

I thought we were funneling the protesters away from the venue.

We did make that request.

Response from the Home Secretary's office is

that he doesn't want to appear to be running scared.

So he's making a flash point. - In the event of any violence,

we have contingency plans to get him out and across London Bridge,

away from their main route.

Reluctantly approved.

- Loop in his office. - Ma'am.

Ooh, we've had a minor hiccup.

Harper? - You've heard?

Yes, I'm Second Desk.

So when we lose an agent, I tend to be informed.

And it's more than a hiccup.

Duffy seems satisfied it is what it appears to be. An accident.

No reason to hold up the Glasshouse meeting.

Slow Horses. They can't even cycle home without getting killed.

I mean, isn't the purpose of Slough House to get them to quit?

In some ways, Harper's death's a win for the service.

Jesus Christ, Webb.

He was still a fellow agent. You worked with him, remember?

- Well... not closely. - Stand up.

Before you start worrying

about what impact his death will have on your career prospects,

you might consider what impact it has... - It's a terrible loss,

and his family have notif... - ...on my career prospects.

If anything goes wrong with this Pashkin meet, it's on me.

If it goes right, you get the opportunity to start a relationship

with someone who might be the next Russian leader.

If Duffy is certain Harper's death is clean,

then I see no reason to hold up the meeting.

I'm gonna need to find a replacement for Harper.

Guy, too. I think they were involved.

Lamb's already been on the phone. He wants you to keep Guy,

and he's offering up one of his Horses.

Are you sure we want Lamb in on this?

Well, you should have thought of that before you started poaching his staff.

Can we trust him?

Of course not. But then, I don't trust you.

And you definitely shouldn't trust me.

Help me take the cover off, and we're ready to go.

Uh is there a toilet I could maybe use?

Sure, it's just around the back.

Right. Great. Great.

What are you doing?

Oh, sorry. Journalist.

You don't mind, do you? This is just fantastic.

Right. Um, put your phone, keys, wallet in a locker.

- Why? - 'Cause they might fall out.

Right, right.

You any idea how these things work?

Do I have any idea how washing machines work?

I assume they take money. Four quid?

Yeah.

And washing powder and, indeed, washing.

Jesus, Lamb. You never been to a launderette before?

This is Spycraft 101.

I was your other kind of undercover.

Casinos, Krug, five-star hotels. Washing was mostly room service.

Yeah. And I flew in a jet pack to work.

Not putting any powder in?

No, all they need is a quick rinse.

There you are.

You get anything?

Any reason you couldn't do this in-house?

Well, I don't trust the bastards.

Well, maybe some of the bastards,

but not if you actually want a proper job done.

Knew it would all fall apart when I got kicked out.

Duffy still in charge of the Dogs?

Oh, yeah.

He was ahead of me on this one.

I should hope so. She ran over one of my joes.

Ran the numbers on her. Gave her a clean bill of health.

Because she's clean?

Because he did a half-arse job.

What he should've done is take her entire life and shake it in a high wind.

Care to expand?

Well... let's just say

she did a little sightseeing in Moscow with a lot of disreputable locals.

Everything else you need's in the envelope.

Address, employment, narrative of a fucked-up life.

Ooh.

Tokens.

For the dryer.

It's the one without the water.

You really do seem nervous.

What? No, no.

I'm fine in big planes, it's just something about...

...about a really small one that's making me... Okay.

- Did you do that on purpose? - No.

No, that was an air pocket.

This is on purpose, though.

Oh, God. Jesus.

Oh.

Try to relax. It's just like a roller coaster.

Yeah. Yeah, well, I hate them.

Like this.

Okay, okay. Okay. Oh!

God. Jesus.

Okay. Not again. Whoa.

Trees. Trees. Trees. Lots of trees. Jesus.

Whoa, okay. That's close.

Oh, no. Oh.

Oh, my God. Oh, my God.

Gonna crash!

Ooh. Yep.

How's it going listening in on Chernitsky's mobile?

Phone's switched off.

And once it's on I'll need to do a whole load of stuff you won't understand.

Just showing an interest.

Right. Can you not?

You sure there's any actual point going through hours of CCTV footage?

We know Chernitsky got on a flight to Estonia,

so he must have been at one of these check-in desks.

I'm looking for a match.

Your face, my arse.

You don't look at people's faces, do you, Ho?

You look just above their forehead.

Do not. - Okay. To be fair,

in Louisa's case, you just look at her rear.

Why not? I reckon I'm in with a chance, now Min Harper's in a freezer drawer.

Wow. - What?

Too soon?

Do you need help?

No, it's fine. It's fine.

- Who was that? - My dad.

Don't worry, he always looks like that.

Didn't know we were hot-desking. Better not be looking at porn.

Sorry. I haven't been allocated a workstation yet.

You've been here months now.

Yeah, Ho's supposed to be sorting it.

He's refusing unless I kneel and address him as Emperor Electrofist

or some shit.

You don't have to kneel. I'd settle for a bow.

Arkady Pashkin.

Digging into his background, but I can't find much.

Loads on his boss, though.

What's it all in aid of?

All Spider said is they're trying to get Nevsky in a room with Taverner,

supposedly to discuss energy security.

I guess I'll find out the truth when I'm in there.

All right, you've got your seat back.

Mug. Should have charged him data rent.

No, I'll take it today. I'll pick them up on my way back.

Thanks.

Thanks.

What?

You were right. He's definitely on to me.

Are you sure? - Yep.

When his daughter took me up in a plane, which was lovely,

I'm pretty sure he went through my phone and wallet.

It was sloppy tradecraft too.

So, I don't know... Either he wants me to know he's looking at me,

or he's just out of practice.

Yeah, well, your legend's tight, so he won't find anything.

Which means he'll wanna get closer.

Do you reckon the daughter took you up so that he could have a snoop about?

I don't think so, but I don't know. Maybe.

You given her one?

No. And not that that's any of your business anyway.

Well, if it's on the cards and you get a green light,

don't blow your cover. Steam in there.

There's just a whole set of ethics there that you really need to catch up on.

Yes. And the day they introduce ethics into what we do,

they might as well shut us down.

Anything else?

Uh, just a sec.

Right, I better go.

Harper's dead. - What?

Yeah. He got knocked off his bike. Pissed.

But I don't buy it any more than I bought Dickie Bow's death.

So watch yourself.

They're dangerous.

Yeah, if... Yeah... T-Tuesday would be, uh... would be a good time.

Who is it?

Sorry. Uh, were you yelling?

Uh, yeah. Yeah. Yeah.

Is that why you picked up the lamp? Just in case I was an assassin?

Oh. Uh. N-No. I just... I knocked it as I came to the door.

Oh. I didn't hear that.

Oh, well, you had your earphones in.

And I caught it as well. Thank God.

- So, um, can I help you? - Yeah. Sorry. Yeah, uh, dinner invite.

Don't get too excited. Not from me, from my mum.

She heard you were writing an article and wants to protect the image of the village.

Yeah. She thinks she's the mayor or something.

I should warn you that my dad might be a bit touchy.

What? Because of me or...

No. No. He, uh... He thinks my mom over-hosts,

and he finds it stressful having to be on his best behavior.

Ah. Right.

Well, I'll, uh, eat in silence and leave. Don't worry.

Great plan. That'll definitely relax everyone.

Hey. - Hi.

Just wanna say sorry about... - Yeah, yeah. Got it.

Look, I know we don't know each other,

and being at Slough House obviously marks me down, but...

It marks me down too.

Look, I just wanna do a good job, all right?

Yeah, sure. No one's stopping you.

I read that file Webb gave you. Anything else I need to know?

Min didn't trust them, so neither should you.

And they're carrying guns. - Right.

Making notes or just being rude?

Uh, making notes.

Hey, again. Hello.

I'm sorry to hear about your colleague. Condolences.

It won't affect anything. Hello.

Marcus Longridge. I'll be replacing Mr. Harper.

Good. Shall we go then?

Yeah. - Yes.

Diana.

Minister.

Got your report on security for my speech.

You still there?

Yes.

You went quiet.

Well, I wasn't aware I was required to make a noise.

Well, I rather thought you might have anticipated this call.

I thought you might want to preempt what I'm about to say.

Oh, dare I hope you've decided to relocate your speech or reroute the march?

Why on Earth would I do that?

I have a right to speak, and they have a right to march.

You're giving a speech to the city

on a day that people have organized an anti-capitalist march

to protest against people like you.

People like me?

You wanna watch it, Diana, or I'll set HR on you.

Pretty sure that sort of language is offensive to some.

You're giving your speech in view of the Glasshouse,

the corporate temple in the heart of the city,

which may seem to some people like a "up yours."

And changing location might mean I have something to hide, which I don't.

The parliamentary investigation was quite clear on that point.

Peter, may I speak off the record?

I'm Second Desk, and I am rather busy.

So if there's a point to this unscheduled call, I'd like to hear it.

I'm Home Secretary, Diana. I can ring you whenever the fuck I like.

I can also tell you to do whatever the fuck I want.

And I don't want to share the back seat with this Nick Duffy.

I want to share it with you.

May I ask why you consider this a necessity?

I just want to make sure everything goes smoothly.

Ingrid Tearney's unavailable, so I get the second choice. Understood?

Absolutely. Oh, of course I'll come with you.

Yes.

And I look forward to hearing your speech.

Ta. Dress to impress.

Johnnie?

Johnnie?

- Ah. Come around. - Ah.

- Sorry. - No.

- I couldn't... - Yeah, sorry. Sorry.

I'm, uh... I'm Alex. - Oh, I'm Jo... I'm Jon.

Ah, it's lovely to meet you. - Oh. Oh.

Oh, these are for you.

Ah, they're beautiful.

Yes, uh... Smallest roses I've ever seen, but I'm sure they're nice.

Oh, sorry about this.

I, uh... I called for Kelly, but I don't know where she's gone.

I think she's upstairs.

Kelly!

Ah.

Um, now come in, please. Come in.

Now, what can I get you to drink?

Wine, beer, gin and tonic?

Gin and tonic, yeah. That'd be lovely. Thank you.

I can tell we're gonna get along just fine.

Ah, having said that, I didn't bring any tonic in.

Would you mind fetching some from the garden shed?

Yeah, yeah.

Just at the end? - Yeah. That's it, thanks.

Great.

Hi. Hi.

Sorry, I've been sent to find, uh, tonic water.

Duncan. - Jon.

I think we saw each other before at the flying club.

You're writing an article on village life?

Yes, I am. Yes, yeah.

Gonna give my flying club a plug?

Of course. Yeah.

The, uh... The pilot might not get the best review, though.

Throw you about, did she? - Just a bit, yeah.

Always been a daredevil.

Tonic's over there.

Great.

Tell her I'll be out in a minute.

Will do.

Johnnie Walker.

Sorry, I've, uh, got to get this.

Hello? Mmm.

Is everything okay? - Yeah. I'm sure it'll just be routine.

All good.

Bloody hell. This is all right, innit?

Ms. Guy. - Mr. Pashkin. Nice to meet you.

Mr... - Longridge.

Arkady Pashkin. Come. Have a seat.

Ms. Guy, can I get you a drink?

- Uh, no. I'm fine, thank you. - No.

You must forgive me. Jet lag leaves me ravenous.

Please begin.

Well, we... we walked through the route

that we'll be taking for the meeting tomorrow.

We accessed the building via the underground loading area,

which we can control.

There are six lifts. No cameras.

It's glass, but reflective on the outside.

Three of them have access to floor 30. The other three reach the 47th floor.

How would Nevsky join any future meetings unobserved?

Well, we-we stopped off at the 42nd floor

to check his potential route from his office there.

So, for any future meetings, we would disable the cameras outside of his office.

He would then join us in the service lift.

There are four cameras in the foyer of the 47th floor

that lead to the boardroom, which are currently disabled.

I hear the boardroom has quite a view.

Well, it's only five floors higher than Nevsky's.

Surely you've been there loads of times?

I rarely visit.

I'm more of a roving operations manager,

working on special projects for Mr. Nevsky.

I have little to do with the day-to-day running of his companies.

Please, continue.

The boardroom is soundproofed, but we also swept for bugs.

- Did you find any? - No.

We sealed the room. No one's going in or out until tomorrow morning.

You're satisfied?

Yes, I am.

Then so am I.

Till tomorrow. - Yeah.

Are you sure you don't want a drink something?

No. See you in the morning.

Very well then. See you tomorrow.

You buying tomorrow is about setting up a back channel on energy security?

That's what they're saying. I'm not paid to speculate.

Where you headed? - That way.

Yeah, works for me.

That call that you got earlier, was that Lamb checking up on me?

No.

Taverner then, or Spider?

No. Look, shit...

I gamble, all right? That's all.

You what?

Cards, horses, the amount of matches in a box.

You name it, I'll put a bet on it.

They put me in Slough House 'cause I gamble,

not 'cause I'm a fuck-up.

Jesus Christ. When you said you were making notes earlier,

were you placing... - Placing a bet? Yeah.

That call upstairs was the bookie telling me I'd lost,

so I didn't make any notes on that one, sorry.

You know, luck's like the tide. It comes in, it goes out.

What about your family?

Yeah, I've got a bizarrely functional homelife.

Spouse, kids, dogs.

Yeah, well, good for you.

Look. Sorry, I didn't mean to... - Now, listen.

No more gambling on the detail, okay? Don't fuck this up for me.

Doesn't interfere with my work.

It literally did earlier. You held us up to place a bet.

No more gambling on the detail.

So, what makes you wanna write about Upshott, Jon?

Oh, um...

Well, it obviously has its own very rural identity.

You know, got its own country identity,

but it's near enough to London

that... you get a lot of, uh... weekenders and commuters.

So, yes. So I'm interested in whether those cultures clash.

They do.

Dad, you own two planes.

So?

See, we've got our own culture clash at this table.

But you guys moved here. You're not from here?

Well, i-is that a question? Sounds like you already know.

Oh, sorry... Kelly told me.

Why am I being made to feel like a snitch?

Because your father reacts to conversation

like it's an interrogation.

Uh, yes. We're the standard cliché, I'm afraid.

We moved here to escape the rat race.

You were not in the rat race. You were student radicals.

Ah, excuse me, I wasn't. That was your father and Leo.

Leo is a darling, but... get a few whiskeys in him,

and... Oh, my God, it all comes out.

He's one notch down from "hang the rich."

Ah. Um, shall I get another bottle of wine?

Yeah.

Sounds like he stayed a student and you guys grew up.

Or they sold out.

If they were my age, they would be going on the anti-capitalist march.

Oh.

What about you, Duncan? What are your views on the march?

Did you find your politics changed when you moved to the country, or...

Can we just do food?

Yeah. Yeah. So... Sorry.

Journalist. Just always asking questions.

Yeah, so you keep saying.

I wouldn't if I were you.

I don't think we'd want anyone calling the police on this one.

It's thirsty work, following you.

I think we found him. - Phone's just come on.

What the fuck is that?

Can you run a check to see if any music groups...

Indie folk bands, by the looks of it... are touring Estonia?

I can do that, obviously.

Why I would want to do that is another question.

Fuck's sake.

Okay. "The UK-based Folklaw..." spelled L-A-W, Jesus,

"...are currently on tour in Estonia."

Have you found him?

Looks like our man's in a terrible folk band.

He dropped the phone into one of their bags.

They've probably turned it on just now, wondering whose it is.

So the phone went to Estonia, but Chernitsky...

Did not.

Flight manifest has him as Philip Jones.

Checked on the flight ES 217 to Estonia,

but Philip Jones did not get on that flight.

What's he doing, staying in the country?

Walking around with a huge fucking grin on his baldilocks face.

J-Just tell me how you happened to hit him.

Came out of nowhere on his bike, right in front of my car.

It was his fault. It wasn't mine.

His name was Min Harper. - Yeah, I know his name. They told me.

Yeah. He had a family, kids, a life.

Don't you think you owe it to them to explain what really happened?

Well, I'm owed something too. Compensation.

Think I like having his death on my conscience?

You know what? Get out of my fucking flat before I call my legal team.

Oh, please, go ahead. Call your legal team.

I speak a smattering of Russian, if you need help translating.

Oh, but wait. You already speak fluent Russian.

I know all about you, Rebecca.

Yeah. Quite the wild child back in the day.

Uh, your mummy and daddy must have been worried sick

when you ran off to P... Vladivostok.

Probably seemed quite romantic.

Sharing a flat with a right pair of charmers

who set you up in a... What was it?

Hey? Catering business.

It's a shame they buggered off.

Look at me.

I know there's more to it.

I know it was orchestrated. The whole accident.

And I also know you are not safe.

Now, I can get you safe,

but you need to tell me what you know.

I've done nothing wrong.

I... I don't like to rifle through a person's handbag...

but, uh, on this occasion, I'll make an exception.

Wow, someone got a nice cash bonus, huh?

Question is, what for?

Talk! - I can't. I can't.

Oh, Rebecca.

They're gonna know I was here, yeah?

They're gonna assume you talked, so you might as well.

Like I say, I can... I can help you...

But you gotta tell me what you know.

Yeah?

I wasn't the one driving the car.

And it wasn't the car that killed him.

Well, if it turns out you like it so much you want to move here,

I can be your estate agent for a small commission.

She's not actually joking.

Why don't we see what he writes about us first

before we invite him to move here?

Oh, Jon's gonna paint us in a very flattering light. I know.

Ah, Jesus. Not more guests.

Please, Duncan.

It's Sam. He said he was gonna drop off a pheasant.

Oh, uh... There's a secret poaching network you can dig into

if you change the names. Yeah.

Oh, my God. L-Leo!

Duncan! Leo's here.

Really? I don't believe it.

- Just gonna have to take this. Sorry. - Okay.

Hey.

River, we've just found out

that Dickie Bow's killer, Andrei Chernitsky...

He is not in Estonia.

He never left the UK.

We don't know where he is... - Jon?

...or what he's up to...

- Who's he on the phone to? - Right, I better go.

River?

Sorry. Sorry. Editor.

No, no problem. I just wanted you to meet a friend of ours.

Leo, this is Jon. Jon, Leo.

He turned up out of the blue. What fun, huh?

Pleased to meet you.

Likewise.

Maybe we should move inside? It's getting chilly.

- Hi, Kelly. - Hi.

Yeah. Let's, um, open...