Original subtitles

And you are?

I'm Railways.

- Who are you?- Me?

I'm Guns.

My apologies if I am late.

And now the way it hasbeen laid out for me,

in these here indications,

it is you who now willtell us the whens and hows.

- You have met him.- I have not.

Bah, all these instructions.

He is a sly one, is he not?

Hiding hisself away from us all.

Well come on then, tell ushow it is we're to get rich.

The timetabling, the pointssystems, I have computed it all.

And here, see? This is how the Bishopsgategoods line may be intruded upon.

The one we pinch will be bigger.

Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.

See. Railways.

This correction by PetaG for- www.addic7ed.com -

based on the original transcription by veraand sync & corrections by Minouhse

Good morning, Chief Inspector.

What is it brings you by?

Well, if you might be distractedfrom your beloved archive...

there is news I wouldshare with you, Edmund.

Indeed. Urgent, I imagine, given the hour.

First however, there is amatter to which I must attend.

If you please, Constable Grace.

Eight and a half by

- six and a quarter, Inspector.- Other features?

- Scarring left mastoid to collarbone.- What is this? Eh?

This ain't coppering.

- You may well say.- Is it not, Mr Cree?

What? Haslen.

Not the name that you gaveto my booking sergeant, no,

but you are Herbert John Cree.

Three counts of receivingstolen goods. One of larceny.

Wanted on suspicion oftwo counts of burglary.

It's no wonder to me

that you have so informedan opinion on our work.

What is it you wish from me?

- I wish you to enlighten me, Mr Cree.- You wish me to snitch, for ya,

but on who?

On all and on everything.

Each villain, every paymaster.

Each and every whispered scheme orrumour, no matter how trifling they seem,

I want them all.

You?

How I am now alone with my vices.

I'm taking my pension, Edmund. Bournemouth,

or so Mrs Abberline's thinking runs.

It is my recommendation, thatI should be replaced by you.

Who then to seek my work here completed?

The archive, Chief Inspector.

Do you not see what it is I've built here?

Be they pimp or pornographer,

confidence man or blackmailer,thief, fence, cracksman or pickpocket.

Soon there will not be a villainin Whitechapel or the east, whose

particulars, habits orassociates are not known to me.

To me, Fred.

And you would have me dozing ina deckchair in St. James's Park.

I would, my friend. Dozing in the sunshine,

blessed by a breeze.

Instead this...

The villains of this quarter,

turn from blood and bone,into scratchings on paper.

In what hope, Inspector?

That such cyphers might one day carryyou to the door of the Devil himself.

Fred Abberline lectures me onobsession as is a rum night.

No, I am yet your superior,and you will mind me.

Drake is gone, your yankee dismissed.

Yet here you are still,alone, but for your books.

I would see you gonefrom this place, Edmund,

before it swallows you whole.

Now there's only you to work this system.

I do hope, you are as goodas your word, Railways.

Railways?

This signal system wasfirst built in April '75.

Before then were points was being handworked down on the tracks themselves.

Railways. I care not.

Now. He stirs,

he gets a clout. Understand?

We go to set our trap.

Use that know-how of yoursand send that engine to us.

_

Fuck... shit.

Hale morning to you, darlin'.

Oh God, he's American.

I never did make any pretence to the fact.

- I'm Hermione...- Morton.

It's Mimi for short. I remember.

You were found at BobBlewitt's two months back.

Ever since then you attend eveningperformances on Tuesdays, Thursdays

and Saturdays

usually you're unaccompanied, butoccasionally you bring an escort.

- Damn you, Ivan.- His name you remember I see.

Well. Who are you?

If you will not say,I shall see for myself.

A doctor?

That man. The Ripper.

There was a notion, was there not,that he was perhaps, an American doctor?

It persists.

Should I be very frightened?

Captain Homer Jackson.

You were an army man once?

Once a law man also,but now only a sawbones.

- So you be careful, it's sharp.- Is it indeed?

Do you wield it with skill?

If harm came my way on these dark streets,

would you bring me here and cleanmy wounds, and make me whole again?

- If you ask nicely.- I ask now.

Ask nicer.

And when you are done...

with courtesy.

The documents you asked for, Miss Hart.

My solicitor, Mr Capshaw.

Counsellor Cobden. It is a pleasure.

Our clinic.

It makes something new here

and should not anticipate suchan undertaking to be met with

universal approval.

There will be complaint. Someof it certain to be legal.

Your organisation.

When I think on whatObsidian Estates once was,

a bastion of iniquity,

and what it now is. Somethingthat was once so opaque,

self-serving, primitive,

it is now a beacon of civicparticipation and progress.

- And it is all down to you, Miss Hart.- Counsellor, you're too kind.

Too kind by stretch.

It's about the soundest of businessphilosophies that we here embrace.

Indeed. And would you share it?

There is no great sophistication,it is simply this...

What is best for the people of theeast, is also best for Obsidian.

Miss Hart.

Our first intake is selected.

The Obsidian Clinic'sfirst students and nurses.

I have met them all this week.

- And each calls this quarter their home?- Of course. As you insisted.

Will you be here to greet them yourself?

It is thanks to your generosityafter all, that I employed them.

I will, Dr Frayn. Andall those that follow.

Fourteen past eight.

The dock's company enginecrosses the cutting at St John's.

Only this morning it does not.

What the hell's that?

We're divertin'.

That is some precise signalling.

Thieving the Bishopsgate run are you?

And you have allowedfor the Necropolis, yes?

You mean the London Necropolis& National Mausoleum Company?

That runs on the London andBlackwall. South of here.

But there is engineering on theline as it occurs, since Monday.

They travel the same tracks.

Gregory Enright.

Look. Where did that come from?

We're gonna crash.

Tell me which one.

What number?

There's no time.

- What is it?- Number 25.

Damn good job did you,Railways. Damn good job.

Next stop. Farringdon,ladies and gentlemen.

Farringdon, and all stationsto your Whitechapel terminus.

Arthur, get here. Comeon, I've got three bags...

Away, please. Come on.

Here ma'am, I'll take all those.

- Oh thank you, mister.- You get on that train.

Come on, soldier, I'lltake that. There we go.

Blimey, whatcha got in there?

- There we go.- Oh thank you, mister.

- Mister?- Drake.

_

_

_

_

Mr Drake,

- where is it you travel today?- Arthur.

I do apologise, Mr Drake.

No, please ma'am, no apologies.

I travel through to Whitechapel, Arthur.

Oh, as we ourselves do.

Oh.

- Do you know it well, Sir?- Arthur.

Well, soldier,

I've not walked it's streetsfor gone four years now.

But once...

Yes...

I knew it well.

Whitechapel.

See? That's Leman Street.

Then we're on the passenger line.

Oh, no, no, no.

The people.

Help them.

Wire for more men.

Mother?

There will be many dead, Gregory Enright.

You question how it is I know your name?

I do not.

No, please. Please, you're notthis man. You're not. Gregory. No.

No, please don't. No, I beg you. No.

No.

Captain Jackson.

Sergeant.

Reid.

I imagine the men in my callingmight find some purpose here.

See he get's what he needs.

Three groupings, sergeant, you follow me?

First. Those who most likely live,regardless of what we do for them.

Second. Those who mightcare of me saving them.

- Third...- Those past saving.

Mr Reid.

Are you just gonna stand there?

Here.

Here.

I have you.

Mr Reid?

To me, Mr Reid.

There you are. I got ya.

You're alright.

Drake. Lay her here.

- She's gonna be alright mate.- Long time no see, Drake.

What is this? An hallucination? Are we allin fact dead and you're here to greet us?

OK, squeeze my hand darlin'.

You hear me? You hear me.

Okay. You're gonna be okay. You.

- What?- Give me work. Tell me what to do.

- You have coin on you?- Of course.

You get to the dispensary. To The Londonif need be and you bring me morphine.

Those needs are met, Captain.Courtesy of Obsidian Estates.

- Ah, Miss Susan Hart, this is...- I know who she is.

Oh hello. Miss Erskine.

- Er, Mr Best.- Well this is compassion, it really is.

The star you now are, comehere to dispense comfort

and a few fond wordsto these poor wretches.

They will be all the more gratefulyou are now returned in such glory

to Whitechapel. A picture perhaps?

W-will you excuse me, Mr Best?

George. Here, take him off of me.

You will come home?

And I am come home.

And this...

I came to see you, Rose.

At The Alexandra, last year.

You were a marvel.

But you did not say hello?

No, I thought it best not.

You were... you were with a gent, after.

But you looked happy.

And that made me happy.

Bennet. It's a long way.

Manchester Piccadilly, through Whitechapel.

What is it brings you here?

It's best I do not say.

Tom.

Know him?

Tom?

Tom?

Freddie.

You comfort him.

Wait, I'm here, Tom. I'm here.

- Inspector.- Madam.

Such ruin... it is...

- senseless.- These streets,

each day, I hope I might have seen thelast of their cruelty, and now this.

That pure awful chance. Nothingin this world to be done for it.

It is hard medicine,

but there will be cause for it somewhere.

A root of one sort or other creeping away.

Silence. Now.

You hear that?

Everybody after three...get going... one, two three.

Over, get it over...

- Over here.- What is that uniform?

The Necropolis Line.

Lay him down here.

Easy, easy, easy, easy.

What has happened here, Mr Reid?

We are under resourced, Mr Drake,

and no longer enjoy thebenefit of a house surgeon.

Drake, there is laudanum in my bag.

Wait, wait. We cannot drug him.

Drake, you tell himthat, this man is in pain.

Mr Drake, his engine, the Necropolis.

Its line, the line for ManorPark, it is a mile east of here.

He was off course and perhaps the rootof this carnage. He must talk to us.

Now give him the laudanum.

Sir.

You were off course, where you not?

Dogs. Trying...

Find...

Ma... Marr's... men.

The wires need to be worked,sir. Who is your operator?

Constable Grace.

Listen, son, Bishopsgateyard and Goodman's...

see what report is madediscover what thieved.

Do it.

- He's giving orders, huh?- He's inspector now.

Inspector Drake now. No shit.

Arthur... What, ah...

Has no one come for you, boy?No father or grandparents?

You see that man?

Now, he may dress odd,and talk odder still...

But you can trust him. He can trust you.

- Stay with him, alright. Only a whiles.- Now wait a minute.

- One hour, Jackson.- Drake.

I have never been insidea police station before.

Yeah well, their charm soon fades.

You got any idea whatto do with one of those?

Not even the first.

Four years you are gone, Bennet,

four years since I put CaptainJackson out on the street also.

And now here, on this day, on that train,

you are returned.

I heard of your rise through theranks of the Manchester City Police.

Enrolled as an uniform constable no less.

Did you hide your true rank from them?

I did.

And so, you are made anew.

What put you on that train, Bennet?

Did they not have need of you up there?

I'm on leave, sir.

Holidaying in Whitechapel?

Mr Reid, I meant to say...

I wanted to say, Inspector.

Word reached me,

of Mrs Reid's passing.

- I wrote, Sir.- Yes, I know.

I know. I was glad for it, Bennet.

The signal box.

Whatever measure of control sat behindthis chaos, that is where it did so.

Goods train. The Necropolis driver said.

Bound for Bishopsgate and Goodman's.

The villains who done this robbed theLondon and India Dock Company therefore.

And one man up here. More sentfar down the tracks to board it.

But for it then to be throwninto the path of the Necropolis,

whoever stood here must only have been,

what, fetching it here. Fetchingit, to do their robbing unwatched,

- in an abandoned shed hereabout.- And this...

the man's wrists were bound first.

And any further details of his execution,need reading with an expert eye.

Mr Reid.

Whatever it is, that may havepassed between you and the American,

these last years, my workhas been greatly varied,

- but I have met no man with gifts...- Gifts?

For drowning in gin,

sleeping in gutters.

Inspector. So much death...

Whatever his current habits,

needs must the best men gosearching for the root of it.

Then you must ask him Bennet,because he will not hear it from me.

I go to hunt that goods train.

Are you 'ere?

We did as you instructed.

Every part as you instructed.

Do you know at what price this was come by?

Do ya? Answer me.

We have deaths on our hands.

Kiddies among 'em. Kiddies.

And I do not merit such guilt. I do not.

I want you to take it.

Those deaths, the wrong. All yours.

Tomorrow,

you will have our shareas promised. Otherwise...

may God damn you.

I wonder,

if I were to simplythrow it all in the fire,

would the last day vanishup the chimney stack also?

Leave you and I here to sit and agreeto turn our backs on such villainy.

Did not have you markedas whimsical, madam.

Fifty-five, we're now told.

Fifty-five lives, given up for $350,000

in unregistered and anonymous bearer bonds.

Because you saw an opportunity.

Does this buy back a life?

- Does this?- You are beside yourself.

- You must calm.- Now must I?

You are my employee, MrCapshaw, best you remember that.

And if I wish to burn the evidence ofour certain damnation, then I shall.

Well, then burn it.

But I currently lack for better ideasof how we might fill the gaping chasm

in this institution's finances.

When the sterling exchange of these bonds

will keep our books balanced for ten years.

I've been happy in my work, Miss Hart.

I've served you assiduously in the seemingtransformation of this house's practices.

Yes, we are yet moneylender to our neighbours,

indeed we are yet so in the certainknowledge of their defaulting thereon.

But where is the not much lamentedMr Dugham was content to then acquire

their rotten practices to rotfurther in his own enrichment...

you would have us demolish the old

and develop afresh.

It's an admirable enterpriseindeed, but as you know...

this house's coffers can notcontinue to provide for them.

Brickwork, sewerage,

open public spaces, yourcherished Obsidian Clinic,

the new Jerusalem that youwould built here, we agreed it.

This is bad money.

Bad American money, destinedfor bad ends, here in London.

We may take it and ennoble its purpose.

People have died, God damn you.

But in Whitechapel,

they die every day.

A fact that you, with this,

would seek to correct. So this...

this in your hands,

becomes life.

Life, Miss Susan.

Or will you instead now wanderthe way to Leman Street...

offer your fragile wristsup to your friend Mr Reid.

And watch all that you have made,

all that you would make,

fall to ruin.

There's a man in a signal box outthere, with his brains removed from it.

Hey, kid, I paid for that,I expect to see that eaten.

First glance, I'd say, a shotgun.

Eat it, God damn it.

- Will you not come?- No, Drake, I will not.

Reid bounced me so,

the poor assumption of yours thatfour years after you up and disappear,

I still carry my lunchin a tin to Leman Street.

He is something. Take a dead man

he'll tell you, what he atefor breakfast three days ago.

And whether it's that which poisonedhim, or the Strychnine in his tea.

- Indeed, Captain Jackson?- Drake, you listen to me.

I do not police no more.

Jackson. Look around you.

This, what must be discovered,here in Whitechapel,

what all here now need,

it is not policing. It is only answers.

When did you get devious?

Well?

I'm rusty, Reid.

You seek the fault ofdeath, look to yourself.

- There is buckshot. A shotgun is assumed.- Our genius has returned to us, then?

- It's the first shot, one-one assumes.- Assumed how?

It missed, Reid.

Missed entirely. The parabola is sixfeet here, as it passes to the wall.

The shot came from nearenough here. The target is...

Well, there. That's somepiss-poor marksmanship.

Ah, what have we got here? Hmmm...

Drake. There's a hand lens over there.

Oh, you've gotten eager.

It's heavy damaged abovethe epidermis and dermis.

Only the trauma's in the shape of an oval.

- The butt of a shotgun.- Oh, the mind of this man.

But there's patterning here, also.

The blow is like a stamp on the man's face.

The steel plate of the butt of the gun wouldhave had an engraving, some lettering.

It's an 'A' and a 'W', I can see...

and an 'R'.

No? Well...

Wouldn't expect you to know.They are American guns after all.

It's 'W' for Winchester, 'R' for Repeating,

'Winchester Repeating ArmsCompany'. You got the shells?

That's a fine weapon. It's a pump action.

An exotic beast in theseparts, you might say.

Yeah, I might if I were talking to you.

It is a straight forward firearm,however. Simple and direct.

- Indeed.- Yet he misses with it.

- From a good five yards.- It's a heavy gun, however.

- It's hard to manage.- Ah, a child?

A child? Who has theskills to operate these?

- Someone impaired, therefore.- Therefore,

he cannot lift the barrel up for thefirst shot, so he spoons it to the left.

And he uses the top rail of achair to help stabilise his aim.

And as you say, Bennet, he is

educated in the workings of this system.

And in the details of both thetimetabling and the tracking hereabouts.

- But not the engineering work there on.- No. Nonetheless,

he would not have been able toacquire this expertise merely by being

- an enthusiast.- He has worked this system at some point.

That begs another question.

- Why shoot him at all?- The other men.

His accomplices, theywore masks. Did they not?

And it been some struggle to get that gunup. He must have felt some reason to kill

- this man.- But he recognised him.

- Despite the masks they wore.- And thus the silencing.

But he is impaired. We are saying.

An arm or a shoulder or some such,

yet he knows the system.

So this crippling was what?A well known much discussed,

misfortune in the work yard, perhaps?

An uncompensated accident even.

Gives him the motive, knowledge and skill.

He was a railway man once.

What is this place?

His new plaything.

Mr Cree, did I not tell you, that in duecourse you would be of use to me once more.

FT Baker, gun makers of FleetStreet and Cockspur Street

and robbed a five pump actionshotguns three weeks past.

An undertaking with which youyourself were approached. Were you not?

- They was after Winchesters.- But what of it?

- I shan't be asking you again.- Yeah, alright.

They was Winchesters.

But I didn't take the job, it smelt rotten.

Tell Mr Drake for why, Mr Cree.

Didn't like the look of him.

- Of who?- Allow me, Inspector Drake.

I did not know his name, Inspector,

I swears it. He would not say, but roundthese streets you do get to know most

felons. Particularly those with thewherewithal of such actions and I had not

seen him this way before.

Witness was asked to describethe gentleman in question.

- And so?- He looked wrong.

Skinny. Like a village parsongot off the wrong station.

Polished his shoes toobright. All shiny they was.

Which a man notices.

When there's this much shit on the street.

The London and Tilbury sent arunner, Sir. Their employment records.

Put Mr Cree back in his cell.I'll have use of him yet, I hope.

Crushed leg.

Broken foot.

I have you. Here. Enright, Gregory.

Shunter, '92.

Left shoulder crushed while couplingan engine that couldn't stop at

Commercial Road Station.

- Never compensated.- There's an address?

There is.

It was perfect.

No, sir, it was flawed.

Everything. I thought I played for all.

But there were details I did not foresee.

And you would add more death to a tallythat now reaches fifty-five, would you?

Fifty-five? What matters one more?

What work it must have been for you, Sir.

The railways.

But to what reward you putyour life into your work.

And your work decides to keep that life.

And not return it to you.

You give your commitment,

your body and soul, every waking hour,

to a world that takes that loyalty,

and cares not one spot for you in return.

Catch.

You will hang me now, will you not?

That decision will follow fromwhat now you tell me, Mr Enright.

I am only Railways, I haveonly ever been Railways.

So you were recruited. By who?

- I never met him.- I do not believe you, Mr Enright.

Please, Sir, I swear it.

He found me, I do not know how.

But it was a letter through mydoor that I was to earn money.

You find me a personhereabout, cripple or not,

that says no to that question.

So you must have been met, seen him?

No, we... myself... the other men, wewere chosen for one skill or another.

You trusted in itsanonymous bidding, did you?

Sir I put my faith in anythingthat promises me five hundred pound.

And where is your fivehundred pounds now, Mr Enright?

- We were to get it.- When, Sir.

Later this morning we are to meet him.

Do you know, Mr Enright? I think Imight permit you to fetch your gains.

We shall see his face this morning.

He who would set men to steal guns.

He who exhumes crippledrailway men for their learning.

He who would leave the dead of Whitechapelbehind him. He will be known to me.

- Still nothing, no report is made?- My apologies, Mr Reid.

Whatever was took from that sea-can it'sowner is still yet to make complaint.

How then to know its contents?

- You have its provenance?- Yes, Mr Drake.

The stevedores report it loadedfrom a domestic cargo transport

from Hoboken, New Jersey.

Such a scheme.

Whatever it was, wemust assume it valuable.

I hope therefore that Enright andhis cohorts provide us with an answer.

Or at least their employer.

Mr Reid.

The men await your instructions as tohow that warehouse is to be invigilated.

No, no, Captain.

Captain Jackson, this is a policeassignment and as such I'm sure

you understand,

these details must beconsidered sensitive. So,

my thanks for your service. But Ithink you might get to your bed. Or...

whatever other activity youchoose to pursue at this hour.

Constable Grace. You're a smart one.

He always did like 'emsmart. Quick to learn.

Well, here's a lesson for you, son.

The faster you can quit this man and hiswork, the better it's gonna go for you.

If you don't take my word for it, youjust ask the good Inspector Drake here.

_

I can't imagine it'sdoctoring you're here for.

You're a good deal toogrand for me these days.

Not an issue which troubles Miss Morton.

Yeah well, she comeshere for something else.

I'm told you once moreprovide service to the police.

That is an old habit on which to fall.

Well don't fret, it's not somethingI intend on making practice of.

Nonetheless a woman could be forgivenfor thinking time had turned backwards.

Look Susan, I'm tired... am I'm gonnakick off my boots and go to sleep

or are you gonna tell mewhat it is brings you here?

I am petitioned.

Who by? One of the many gratefulcitizens of your new republic?

The bereaved.

Those who wait to see if their mothers,or fathers, or children might yet live.

There is one questionthey ask which unites them.

They wish to know why their liveswere turned to ruins in a trice.

You want to know why those trains collidedand against whom the world might lay blame.

The people wish to know.

He comes.

- He has not arrived?- No.

My canary has sung. Doyou assure me, Ronald,

that these men, who now wait theirearnings, they've not seen you,

- you are sure?- Certain.

Then those earningsshall remain in arrears.

And the police shall have them.

They will hang alone, and notwith you and I beside them.

We can not think they willwait further, Inspector.

There is another. Their paymaster,the architect of this all.

And there is no other meansby which this man may be found?

There is a man in my cells,

he is called Cree. I believe he hasmet him, but his description is vague.

Can not be pursued alone.

And so we must wait.

Where are you?

I shall sit here no further.

You want my advice, you do likewise.

They leave, Mr Reid.

Those men held up an engineon the Bishopsgate line?

They did. We take foot soldiersnow, a general walks free.

We do not. Whitechapel must live withoutknowing its tormentors... a game, Edmund.

A game. This is an order,Inspector. You take 'em.

Sir.

Well now.

This moment might beconsidered apposite, Mr Drake.

Come now, Inspector, you are no longerto look at your shoes in this man's ambit.

Particularly not now... not now,

you have rejoinedH-Division at equal rank.

What? Without one word of consultation?

Consultation? With you?

That would be a fine circumstance.

I've been clear with you, MrReid. Could not be clearer.

Mr Drake is to aid

with the purpose ofLeman Street's transition.

Transition from your control into his.

I've been in earnest about this, my friend.

You are for promotion.

Promotion away from here.

By the time Mrs Abberline drags me south,

you will be gone from these streets.

Take them away.

Thou carriest them away as with a flood.

They are like grass which groweth up.

In the morning it flourisheth

and in the evening it is cut down.

For we are consumed by Thine anger.

Thou hast set our iniquities before Thee.

Our secret sins in thelight of Your countenance.

For all our days arepassed away in Thy wrath,

and we spend our yearsas a tale that is told.

Amen.

Amen.

Now, we are brazen.

- Inspector.- Madam.

- A black day.- Indeed.

Oh, this is my solicitor. Mr Capshaw.

Sir.

Your name again, Sir?

Capshaw.

Cree. Herbert Cree.

This correction by PetaG for- www.addic7ed.com -