All language subtitles for endeavour.s06e04.1080p.bluray.x264-turmoil-eng-

FILM NARRATOR:
It's the start of a new era.

In Oxford, it's out with the
old and in with the new...

as CounciHor Clive Burkitt,

in charge of the Planning
and Housing Department,

welcomes the first tenant
to Cranmer House,

one of three tower blocks

at Oxford's new Martyrs' Field
development

a stunning feat
of modern engineering,

changing the Oxford skyline
forever.

Councilor Burkitt is keen
to hand over

the first set of keys.

For Mrs. Olive Reynolds
and daughter Sandra,

this is a dream come true.

A top-floor flat,
and just look at the view!

What a brave new world.

(exhales)

Ten minutes, Miss Parse.

(ringing)

(bell continues)

(paper crumples)

(door opens)

I'll chase up any stragglers.

(thud sounds in distance)

Hello?

The library is closed.

Hello.

(Osbert cries out, grunts,
shuffling)

(struggling to breathe)

(breathing stops)

(glass crunches)

(door closes)

(glass rustling)

Shit the bed?

I was in early.

Well, DeBryn's been and gone.

Any idea who they were?

Junkies, pair of 'em.

I meant a name.

Done the owner a favor in any case.
(lighter flicks)

How's that?

JAGO: Well, the rest of
the place has cleared out.

He can finally sell it.

Morning.
50X: Christ... what's this?

You pair should get
on Opportunity Knocks.

"Me and My Bloody Shadow."

I didn't think
I had you down till 10:00.

Heard it come over the R/T.

Just wondered if there were
any similarities

with that tramp from the alley
the other month.

Well, they're dead.

So there's that.

BOX:
Well...

I'll leave you ladies to it.

Al? JAGO: Mm-hmm.

Win?

I said I'd get it back.

It's not all of it.

Not yet, but it will be.

There's enough there
for that new oven

you've been wanting.

And something for yourself,
obviously.

A new frock or two.

I thought a holiday, maybe.

Where did it come from?

Where'?

I got it back, that's where.

From where it went,
1 got it back-.

Charlie?

I don't believe you.

Winnie!

(exhales)

A bit of overtime
here and there,

it soon adds up.

Overtime?

What, the sort of overtime
that leaves your knuckles raw

and blood on your cuffs?

That sort of overtime?

You can keep it.

I don't want any part of it.

(door opens)

Doctor.

Inspector.

Osbert Page, chief librarian.

Found by Lucy Paroo,
one of the juniors.

Single stab wound to the back,

defensive injuries...
A pretty vicious attack.

Cause of death most likely
to be massive hemorrhage.

Time?

MAX:
12 to 18 hours.

The library would have closed
about 7:00 last night, so...

Wood chisel.

Unusual choice of weapon.

Now, as far as I can see
from the distribution

of blood spatter,

the attack took place
in this aisle.

He made half a dozen paces

before being overcome
by his injuries.

Be able to give you chapter
and verse after the post-mortem.

Shall we say 2:00?

Sir!

Muddy boot prints.

MAX:
Oh, yes.

Evidence of mud and dirt
was found amongst the blood.

Sample's been taken
by forensics.

I'll give you the full gen
once it's in.

Family?

Not that I know of.

He lived alone.

In Jericho.

MORSE:
What was he like?

Set in his ways.

Quite disagreeable
when the mood was on him.

Which was most of the time.

He lived for the library...

And his walking, of course.

He was a keen rambler.

Did he get on well with
the rest of his colleagues?

I suppose.

I've not been here very long,
so...

Who else was in here?

Well, there were only
a couple of regulars.

Where were they sitting?

Uh...

Professor Burrowes
was sitting there.

And Dr. Nicholson
was sitting just here.

THURSDAY:
What are they, dons?

PAROO:
Yes, that's right.

Memoirs of a Voluptuary.

Isn't that part
of the Phi Collection?

Yes, I believe so.

Huh.

Well, I'd be interested to know

who asked for it
to be brought up.

Of course.

If you'll just give me a moment.

The Phi Collection?

Yeah, obscene or libelous works

that aren't available
to all readers.

A special request has to be made
to the librarian for access.

Whoever did for Page

would have hidden
in the library, after closing,

would you think?
Mm.

Plenty of places for a man

to hide in here.

PAROO:
It was Dr. Nicholson

who put in the request
for the book.

I should have remembered,

because Mr. Page
got a bit batey about it.

Why is that?

Dr. Nicholson
was always after

one book or another
from the collection.

Well, I'd be grateful for a list

of all of the other books
he asked for.

Oh, I don't suppose
you remember anyone

wearing a pair of muddy boots,
do you?

Muddy boots?
Mm.

No.

Mr. Page would not have stood
for that.

Well, thank you, Miss Paroo.

(birds chirping)

(door opens)

Good morning.

I intend today to deal

with G6del's
Completeness Theorem,

which states that if a formula
is logically valid,

then there is a finite
deduction“ a formal proof...

Of the formula.

Is this a joke?

Who did this?

WhO did this?!

(door opens)

Well...

Either Osbert Page
was the untidiest librarian

to ever draw breath...

Or somebody's beaten us to it.

Muddy boot prints.

(footsteps echoing)

She's not been well.

It's the damp.

It's got on to her chest.

Damp?

Yeah.

Come and have a look
for yourself.

That's not damp,
Mrs. Reynolds.

How long's it been like this?

Since we moved in.

I've tried painting over it,

but it just comes back
through again.

It's not just me,

it's happening
in loads of other flats.

(exhales)

Anything?

Well, not unless this map
of the Gower

has any bearing.

What's that... Greek, is it?

Mm, anemoi» wind gods.

What about that?

“H f“?

"H.B."

No.

Your guess is as good as mine.

Hope whoever
turned this place over

found what they were
looking for.

(places map down)

I'll get forensics over.

Meantime, we can give those
readers at the library a spin.

(Speaking inaudibly)

Dr. Nicholson?

About the fun and games, is it'?

What fun and games?

The stuff left
in his cubby, sir.

Bits of metal.

An amulet,
I suppose you'd call it...

With Greek writing
or something on it.

One of the undergrads said
that someone's been writing

the word "Dora"
up on his blackboard.

Dora?
That's right, sir.

In the lecture theater,
and in his tutorial.

How long's this been going on?

About a month or so, I suppose.

I've offered to call the police
before now,

but he didn't seem too keen.

You were at the Bodleian
yesterday evening,

Dr. Nicholson.

Yes.

We'd like to know
what time you arrived,

what time you left,
where you went from the library,

and if anyone can vouch for you.

Uh...

I was, um... arrived about 5:00.

Left just before 7:00.

And, uh, went home.

Can anyone confirm that?

My wife was out for the evening.

She returned about 11:00.

Did you happen to notice
anyone unusual or out of place

hanging around the library
about the time you left?

Someone wearing muddy boots,
perhaps?

Muddy boots?

There were muddy boot prints

on the floor of the library.

Indeed?

No.

No, uh... No, I...

Think I would have
remembered that.

Did you know Mr. Page
personally?

As a librarian, yes, but...

No, not personally.

I'm sorry I, I can't be
of greater assistance.

Unless there was anything else,
I can help you with...

Uh, there was just one thing.

This book you had
out of the Phi Collection.

Memoirs of a...
What was it, Morse?

Voluptuary.

Voluptuary.

Racy go for a numbers man,
I'd've thought.

I'm writing a paper

on Edwardian erotica.

It's very popular.

Well-thumbed, I'm sure.

I'm more of a
Holly Martins man myself.

Each to their own.

MORSE:
You've been in receipt

of some curiosities, lbefieve.

In your pigeon hole.

Time was the discretion of
a porter could be relied upon.

Not in my experience.

Rag Week high jinks.

Nothing more.
Really?

Seems a little late in the year
for a Rag Week,

I'd have thought.

Those who are responsible

will be found and disciplined,
I'm sure.

It's a college matter.

Nothing for the police
to get involved in.

Well...

If you change your mind,
you know where to reach us.

BURROWES:
That one's Aeger tipularius.

Aspecies of prawn...
Now extinct, of course.

I lifted him myself
on a walking holiday

in the long vac in '32.

In Germany.

Is that your field,
Professor Burrowes?

Ah, would that it were,
would that it were.

Alas, no.

Geology is my line.

The fossils are an adjunct,
I suppose.

My particular delight
is postage stamps.

Philately.

Uh, this is about poor
Mr. Page, is it?

You've heard.
I have, yes.

Terrible thing, absolutely,
just terrible.

What is it you were doing
at the library?

Oh, I've been asked to evaluate
a number of items,

um, letters,
historical documents,

and a, a vast stamp collection

left to the college
by the late Mr. Teagarden.

And is it? Valuable?

One or two of the stamps
are of interest...

On the letters, oddly enough...

But nothing spectacular
in the main collection.

And you left the library
at what time?

Oh, about the ten-minute bell.

About ten to 7:00 or so.

Anybody see you leave?

The other readers, I suppose.

I stopped off at my rooms at
the college, and then came home.

Anybody see you at college?

Mr. Jenkins, the porter,
was on duty.

THURS DAY:
And here?

Ah, well, I, I live alone.

I'm a confirmed bachelor.

(chuckles softly)

Yet another old fossil.

You and me both, Professor.

JOAN: I've just had another
three calls from residents.

VIV:
This is getting ridiculous.

BURKITT:
Qff to save the world, Viv?

VIV: When are you
going to do something

about the complaints
at Cranmer House?

It's in hand.

JOAN: With respect,
Councillor Burkitt,

that's what we were told
last month.

Miss Thursday, my junior.

(chuckling): I see you're
training her up well.

JOAN: It's not so funny if
you actually live there.

"Homes fit for habitation,"
that was your election promise.

And I stand by it, every word.

I'll look into it.

Miss Lansbury, make a note.

Now, if you'll excuse me,
I'm late for the chamber.

OLIVE:
Sandra?

Have you washed your hands'?

How are you feeling?

A bit better.

Go on, then.

I've made you some soup.

(rumbling, objects rattling)

Mum...

It's happening again.

Right» come on.

(rumbling continues)

(cracking)

Disturbance, Cranmer House.

What kind of disturbance?
I don't know.

There's been multiple calls
from residents.

Look, you can be there and back
in 40 minutes.

The guvnor asked.

(sighs):
Right.

(bang)
What was that?

Did you feel that?
I felt it.

SANDRA:
What's happening?

Mum, what's going on?

Why are the lights doing that'?

I d0n't know»
right, we need to go!

(rumbling, screaming)
We need to go!

Come on... let's run, okay?

Let's go, hold on to Mummy,
that's right, let's go.

Come on, come on...

Run, come on,
it's okay, it's okay.

(tires screeching)

(rumbling in distance,
people screaming)

Morse to information room.

All units to Cranmer House!

We're okay, let's go, let's go,

let's go, let's go!

(rumbling, screaming
in distance)

This way, this way, this way!

It's okay, darling.

It's okay, everything's going
to be okay, now.

I'm here, I'm here, darling.

Keep going, darling,
keep going. keep 90mg-

(Olive screams)

Mum!

Sandra, run!
(screams)

(booming, debris falling)

(sirens blaring faintly
in audio)

(ears ringing)

(sirens approaching)

What do we do?

Where do we start?

Fire and ambulance are coming
from across the county.

ANC Reliefs are turning in.

What happened?

What happened is immaterial
for the moment.

All that matters now
is the preservation of life.

BOX: You think anyone
c0uld've survived that?

I don't know!

But if they did,
it's up to us to get them out.

Castle Gate!

Where are my officers?

Very good...
Williams, Benson, Davis,

let's get a human {chain organized, yes?
Yes, sir!

Start clearing
some of this rubble.

But mind how you go, I don't
want any more casualties.

Yes, sir.

(exhales)

REPORTER: The accident appears
to have happened without warning.

One side of the building
has sheared away from the rest.

The total number of casualties
is not yet known.

Had the collapse happened
during the hours of darkness,

one can be certain
that the death toll

would have been
very much higher.

Her Majesty the Queen
has sent a message of sympathy

to the bereaved.

BOX:
We should clear out.

Leave it to uniform,
there's nothing we can do.

Well, we can be here.

I can be here.

One of us should.

To help with identification.

Whatever you think.

MAX: Put that bloody
cigarette out!

(lighter flicks)

(birds chirping)

BOX:
Right, stand to.

Word from Bottoms is.
Life goes on.

Business as usual, everyone.

So, where are we
on this Bodleian inquiry?

Morse?

Um...

Deceased is an Osbert Page,

senior librarian
at the Bodleian.

Murder weapon was a wood chisel,
found in situ,

no fingerprints.

Oh, the interesting thing
was muddy boot prints

found at the locus
and leading away from the body.

They're with forensics.

Anything in the way of motive?

Page's flat was turned over,
sir,

but as to what
they were looking for...

There was a map
of the Gower Peninsula

with one or two things
written on it.

Yeah, Page was a rambler.

BOX: What was on the map'? “HB

And something in Greek.

Anemoi.

THURSDAY: The wind
gods, apparently.

Well, think we can
probably leave them

off the suspects' roster.

Speaking of which,

couple of academics,
wasn't it, you said?

That's right, Dr. Nicholson
and Professor Burrowes,

both at Garstang College.

Neither of whom have an alibi.
BOX: Well, keep at 'em.

Be nice to have a result
to throw at Division

for the quarterlies.

THURSDAY:
That junior librarian,

Miss Paroo, rang.

She's got that list of books
you were after.

Right.
I've one or two errands to run.

Can you deal?
Yeah, of course.

Keep me posted.
Will do.

You all right?
Yes.

You had a bad go yesterday.

Well, there's many had it worse.

All the same.

Why don't you sign yourself off
for a few days?

Can take up the slack
with himself-.

I think now is hardly the time.

Well, if you change your mind.

I'd sooner be busy, thank you.

(places teacup down)

(exhales)

Hello.

Hi-MORSE: believe
y0u've that list of beaks

that Dr. Nicholson requested
from the Phi Collection for me.

Oh, yes.

Yes.

Thank you.

I'm afraid they're rather
of a piece.

Antique smut.

Mr. Page was not
best pleased.

He often took the professor
to task about it.

However, it was nothing

beside his run-in
with Professor Burrowes

the other week.
What run-in?

Something to do with this
donation, or whatever it is,

with the Teagarden family,
lbefieve.

The professor and Mr. Page
had a blazing row about it.

Well, if you do come across it,
I'd be grateful to see it.

Of course.

MORSE:
Oh, excuse me, sir.

Is Professor Burrowes in today?

Luncheoning out, I believe, sir.

Oh.

What about Dr. Nicholson,
is he in?

Oh, just missed him, sir.

But I see the fun and games
I told you about

is still going on.
How's that?

Another message just delivered
to his cubby, sir.

Delivered by whom?

Person or persons unknown,

I believe that's the phrase,
isn't it?

I didn't see.

Arrived when I was
about my business.

Well, can I see it?

Yes, of course.

(Paper rustles)

There we are.

Thank you.

Right, well, I'll keep hold
of that, thank you.

Oh, very well, sir,
if you say so.

I'll let Dr. Nicholson
know.

I'll let him know myself when I see him.
Oh, very good.

Oh, um, you found
Professor Burrowes at home

all right yesterday, did you?
Oh, I did, yes, thank you.

Nice man, isn't he? He is, yes.

One of my favorites...

If a porter's allowed
such a thing.

He's always been
very respectful.

Not like some I could name.

You wouldn't think
to look at him now, sir,

but, um...

(quietly): He was quite
a card in his day.

Oh, but suppose life
takes it out of the best of us.

Dismay.

How's that?

Same as most men,
I suppose, sir.

Some girl he had hopes of.

(tapping)

Miss Teagarden'?

Detective Sergeant Morse,
Thames Valley.

Of course... come in.

My condolences.

Thank you for seeing me
at such short notice.

Have you any idea
what's in the bequest?

Oh, anything and everything.

Grandfather was something
of a polymath.

His papers,
stamp collections, letters.

But he didn't leave behind
a list or anything.

Really? Because there's been
mention made of an inventory.

Not that I know of.

I can only assume
it's been compiled

by those examining
the collection.

Teagarden.

Unusual name.

Should have been tree garden
or orchard...

Baumgarten»

only the immigration official
misheard.

So your family's German.

Originally.

My grandfather's side
came to England in 1911.

IS this him'?
No.

That's his brother, Emil.

He was a physicist
before the war, in Berlin.

Another Einstein,
my grandfather said.

Avery great man.

Or would have been,
had he lived.

A labor camp.

For the V2 factory in Mittelbau.

The whole family.

Emil, his wife, their daughter...

Deborah, for whom I'm named.

Do you read Hebrew?

A little.

Have you any idea what...

this means?

Emez', it means truth» why?

Well, it just may have
some bearing on a case.

What about this?

Ma vet.

Death.

Reminds me of a story
my grandfather used to tell me

when I was small.

Do you know what a shem is?

I'm afraid I can't help you.

I've no idea what they mean.

THURSDAY:
Are you sure about that?

We found one of them
in a wastepaper basket

near to where you were sitting
in the Bodleian,

and the other one
in your cubby hole here.

I'm as much in the dark as you.

Whoever left them

must believe
they mean something to you.

(chuckles)

Well, then,
they're wildly mistaken.

I also believe
there've been things

written on your blackboard
during lectures.

I don't recall.

Well, according to those
present, it was the word "Dora."

Does that mean anything to you?

No.

Really?

Because the students
seemed to think

that you were rather
distracted by the word.

Why should I be?

I've never met anyone
with that name.

(scoffs):
Really, I'm at a loss to see

the connection
between these things

and a stabbing at the Bodleian.

MORSE".
He's lying.

Of course he is... but why?

There's a connection between
Nicholson and Osbert Page.

I'm just,
I'm just not seeing it yet.

You will when
you're thinking straight.

You need some kip.

I need a drink.

Do you fancy one?

Oh, I can't.

It's been a while.

I'm not much company these days.

Hm.

Pick up sticks in the morning.

STRANGE:
All right, matey.

Doctor.

Sir.

So what couldn't wait?

One of the bodies
recovered from the rubble.

Male, 50s.

Nothing to identify him.

I have it from the fire brigade
that his remains were found

in what would have been
the basement.

He did not die in the collapse
of Cranmer House.

He was shot.

Twice in the back, hands bound.

STRANGE:
Bullets came from the same gun

that shot George Fancy.

Whoever this is
has been dead for about a year.

Encased in the foundations
of Cranmer House.

We need to put a name to him.

Have you anything to go on?

Just what's there.

Magdalen Cabs.

Eddie Nerds Old fir.

MAX: The specs have
come from Dinkley's,

in the High,

according to the name
in the case.

"H.B."

Morse?

We're looking into the death

of Osbert Page,

chief librarian at the Bodleian.

He was stabbed to death there
two nights ago.

In his flat,
there's a map of the Gower

with the initials H.B.

Yes, I've just had the results
through from forensics.

The muddy boot prints
at the flat are consistent

with those found
at the Bodleian.

Clay, limestone,
and traces of fine sand.

Sea sand, most likely,

due to the roundness
of the particles.

Right,
so who else knows about this?

STRANGE:
So far, just us.

DrDeBryn was good enough

to inform me and Detective
Sergeant Strange first.

I think...
For the moment, at least...

Such information
should be contained

amongst former City officers.

Well, then, we're a man shy,
aren't we?

Where is Thursday?

No one is suggesting
Detective Inspector Thursday

has any involvement.

Not for a moment.

STRANGE: We just need
to be sure of him.

Word on the wire is
he's got pretty tight with Box.

You've gotten pretty ttght
wtth the ABS.

A.C.C. Bottoms' probity
is not in question here.

(Places keys down)

Out, is it?

No, not tonight.

Oh.

I've seen someone.

A solicitor.

Right.

We can't go on this way.

No.

You in Sam's old room,
me in ours.

I never asked for that.

No.

Well, it's done now.

Is it?

I think SO.

Right.

It doesn't have to be nasty.

No.

Him, is it?

“Him”?

Him, up the Ballroom...
I followed you.

No, Fred, it isn't him...
It's you.

You keep the house.
I don't want it!

Any mere {than wanted the oven.

Or clothes, or a holiday.

Then what do you want, Winifred?

I wanted my husband back,
the man I married.

I don't want the house

and I don't want the money.

God knows what you had to do
to get it.

It was never about the money.

We've been without before...
It didn't matter.

It never mattered.

We had each other.

Well...

Just give me
what you want signing,

and I'll sign it.

Is this Dinkley's Gpticians?

Detective Sergeant Morse,
Thames Valley.

I dropped a pair of spectacles
in this morning.

Your receptionist said that
she would check the prescription

against any of the patients
you have

with the initials H.B.

Hollis...

Bi n ks.

He's missed two appointments,
has he?

And would you have an address
for Mr. Binks?

(inserts key, unlocks door)

Hello?

Did you get those figures?

Seen Morse?

He's not in his bunker.

Oh, he left word,
he's pursuing inquiries.

What inquiries?

I don't know, he's your dog.

He's nobody's dog...
Yours nor mine.

Oh, I didn't mean...
I don't care what you didn't mean.

You'll treat your colleagues
with respect, or I'll know why.

Look, all right,
don't bite my head off.

I'm just saying he's...

Saying what?

Well, he's not...
one of us.

Speaking of which.

Hey, you're all right.

We're all friends here.

Where's it come from?

Seeing as we're all friends.

Why do you care?
Say I do.

It's just baksheesh.

For a blind eye turned.

It's a bit late
to be on a conscience, Fred.

(clicks)

(quietly):
Don't spend it all at once.

(bicycle bell ringing)

(bell tolling in distance)

Clive Burkitt.

Councillor,
Planning and Housing.

Detective Sergeant Morse,
Thames Valley.

I'm looking for any information
you could have on Hollis Binks.

Hollis Binks, um...

Thank you, Miss Lansbury.

He was a borough surveyor here,
I believe.

Oh, yes, yes, he was.

What is it you want to know
about him?

Well, what he did
at the council, when he left.

Just what his duties
might have involved.

In connection with what?

He's not in any trouble, is he?
Oh, no, no.

Just a... just a general enquiry.

Uh, Well, he, uh...

He left about a year ago,
I think.

Tendered his resignation
and, uh, and that was that.

I think he found
another position

in the Northeast.

Well, I'd like to see it,
please.

Sorry?

His resignation letter.

Presumably it's on file
somewhere.

Yeah, I know, I, I would have
thought so, yeah.

Yeah.

Actually, do you know what?

This really isn't the best time,

what with, um, everything, um...

Do you think we could
catch it up later?

Ah, yes, yes, of course.

Any further idea
what happened at Cranmer?

Gas.

Right.

Well, if you do dig out
Binksfis resignation letter,

then I'd like to see it.

Of course.

Miss Thursday,
Ms. Wall.

Morse... what are you up to?

I'm just looking for some
information on a Hollis Binks,

he was a borough surveyor here.

Oh, don't know him, I'm afraid.

I knew Hollis.

Been here years... very thorough.

He quit without notice
about a year ago.

Without notice?
Just up and left.

Councillor Burkitt said that
he tendered his resignation.

VIV:
First I've heard of it.

MORSE:
Right.

What's he like, Burkitt?

No more slippery
than any other politician.

You know, a lot said he'd never
get Martyrs' Field built...

Too expensive.

He proved them wrong.

How's that?

Put his money
where his mouth is-

well, other people's money.

His reputation was at stake.

Made it part of his
election pledge in '64?

Doubled his majority.

Right.

Best crack on.

Be in the office, Joanie.

Thank you.
Sergeant.

How are you getting on
at Cranmer House?

(sighs)

We've got people scattered
all over t0wn...

Bed and breakfasts, Sally Army.

Even squeezed some
into undergrad digs.

It's, it's not ideal long-term,
but...

At least they're safe
and dry for the time being.

H0w're things with you?
Oh...

One day's much the same
as the next.

I didn't mean work...
I meant you.

Oh, it's the same thing,
isn't it?

Have you seen your father
lately?

Not much-why?

Well, just wondered
if he was all right.

Hasn't seemed himself lately.

Oh...

Anyway-

There it is.

Uh...

Ill-...

(footsteps retreating)

(phone ringing)

Bright.

Good morning, sir.

Lunch.

Yes, I'd be delighted.

Of course.

BURROWES:
Shocking about Cranmer House,

those poor people.

Mm.

This is about Mr. Page,
is it?

Well, partly.

I believe you had a bit of a row
with him the other week,

about a misplaced inventory?

Something 'to do with
the Teagarden donation, was it?

Lost.

Not misplaced.

I'm somewhat at sea without it.

Uh, please.

And the other part?

You said, "Partly."
YES.

I wanted to ask you
about Hollis Binks.

I believe you knew him.

Your name's in his address book.

Yes, Hollis was
a student of mine,

and a fellow member of the
Happy Wanderers Walking Club.

We did the
Santiago cle Co postela together.

Afine geologist.

Did Page ever mention him?

Not to me, no.

Why?

Only, his name was also
in Binks's address book.

Presumably they knew each other.

The Gower Peninsula...

Will that be a popular place
for walkers?

For everyone» holidaymakers.

Yeah.

When was the last time
you saw him, Binks'?

Oh, not for years.

Um... Well, he wrote to me.

About a year ago.

About Faringdon Sponge Gravel.

Yes, that was it.
What's that?

It's part of the Greensand
formed in the Cretaceous.

And what did he want to know?

If it was found anywhere
%other than Wicklesham-.

It extends to Lower Coxwell
and Fernham,

but Wicklesham is the only place
where it's quarried.

For aggregate, in the main.

Lovely walking there,
if you're ever out that way.

There may come a time
to dig more deeply

into Nero's activities,

but the man is dead.

One more death
in his debit column

will bring him no nearer
to facing justice.

That's certainly the view
of senior officers at Division.

Few more senior than
the assistant chief constable,

I would have thought.

I'm merely relaying to you
certain operational matters

as have been explained to me.

There are things here

that go far beyond Oxford
and Thames Valley.

Best handled from London.

Such operational matters concern

the councillor
for Housing and Planning

in what regard, may ask?

BURKITT: I'm here in a purely
advisory capacity, Reginald.

A troubleshooter, if you like.

Oh, yes.

I see.

What trouble do you intend
to shoot today, Councillor?

Not me, I hope.

One of your colleagues
from Cowley

has been concerning himself
unduly

with matters of a...
sensitive nature.

Matters with, um,
potential ramification

for some departments
of local government.

Morse, is it?

His enthusiasm

is commendable,
but, uh, misplaced.

I'm in Traffic, sir.

Don't see how can bring
any influence to bear upon him.

Well, that brings me
to my second point.

It seems a fearful waste
of resources

to have an officer
of your experience and ability

closed away in Traffic.

BURKITT (chuckling):
There's no need to be coy.

We're all men here.

ROG. Botmms is moving
to the Met next year.

Which will leave a vacancy
up at Division.

It would be a fine way
to finish one's service.

BURKITT: And some much needed
good news for your wife, I'm sure.

My Wife?

I may have mentioned.

Excuse me, sir.

(places glass down)

I have a previous appointment
elsewhere.

Councillor.

Um...

I have a friend
at the Royal Masonic.

Some new experimental cancer
treatments are being looked at

out of America.

A short list of patients

suitable to take part
in the trial

is being drawn up.

I see.

If you change your mind...

What are friends for?

We are not friends, Councillor,

nor, I'm very happy to say,
are we ever likely to be.

MORSE:
Are you all right?

DOROTHEA:
Kids, Morse.

Women and children.

Families destroyed.

(sniffs)

When they tore down
the Oxpens slums,

it was meant to be
a fresh start.

A brave new world.

Safe and clean and...

(scoffs)

How does it end like this?

Agas leak.

Isn't that the official line?

Official lie.

We're talking about a
catastrophic structural failure.

Gas explosion or no,

they're supposed to withstand
anything like that.

It's the law.

Well, people have been known
to break the law.

What do you make to Burkitt?

Martyrs' Field's got
his name all over...

It's his legacy.

He's hardly likely
to jeopardize that.

Is that what you wanted
to ask me?

In part.

I'm more interested
in anything you can tell me

abuut Fuur Winds Aggregate.

Out at Wicklesham?
Mm-hmm.

George McGyffin's old firm...
You know him.

He's yards and works
all over here...

Somerset,

some... sea-dredging firm
in Wales.

And he supplied materials
for your new Divisional HQ.

Really?

Has he anything to do
with Cranmer House?

They had a contract
on the concrete side, I think,

out of the council,

before it closed down.

Right.

(inhales):
And what about a Hollis Binks?

(door closes in distance)

He was a borough surveyor
up until about a year ago.

No.

No, I've not come across him...
Why?

This librarian, Page,
at the Bodleian.

Stabbed to death.

You think that's connected
to what's happened here?

(sighing):
Oh, don't kn(ow.

Possibly.

I'm just poking around.

Who knows?

Someone knows.

(footsteps retreating)

You've a works along the Gower,
I understand.

Sea dredging.

The Nash Bank... what of it'?

Did Hollis Binks ever go there?

Who?

Hollis Binks,
he was a borough surveyor.

No.

Really? That's a surprise.

As he seemed to have an interest

in your company
Four Winds Aggregate.

You supplied the concrete for
the Martyrs' Field development,

didn't you?

What did you say your name was?

Detective Sergeant Morse,
Thames Valley.

Well, Detective Sergeant Morse,
Thames Valley,

let me tell you something.

Construction site's no place
for small boys

with soft hands
and clean shirts.

It's dirty work.

Dangerous work.

Man's work.

Accidents happen.

That sounds like a threat.

Advice, son.

You ever seen a shovel fight?

That's how navvies

used to settle
their differences on site.

I once seen two brothers
go at each other with shovels.

20 minutes, it lasted.

Hell of a thing.

(chuckling):
0h, and the noise.

Only finished when one of them

took the other OHG'S arm off
at the shoulder.

Go home.

Go on, go home.

Forget about Hollis Binks
and Four Winds.

I'm afraid I can't do that,
Mr. McGyffin.

That's too bad.

The boys'll show you safe
back to your car.

It's all right, I can manage.

(engine starts)

(closes drawer)

Bloody hell.

(knock at door)

Any news?

I had a dig around for this gun
used on George.

We've been looking
in the wrong place.

It was used in a wages snatch
in '64 in Reading.

Amongst the investigating
officers was DS Ronnie Box.

Then we've got him.
Well, we're going to move against him,

it's got to be solid.

We're accusing him of killing
a fellow police officer.

Depending how far this goes,
we get one shot.

It's got to stick.

What's that, Jim?

Oh, uh...

Just popped in to see Morse.

Is that right?

Well, you've got business.

I won't keep you.

Sir.

Where'd you get to?

Oh, something came up.

Pursuing inquiries,
DS Jags said.

What inquiries?

Oh, it's nothing, probably.

The guvnor was asking about
an unknown out at Cranmer House.

Said you'd know about it.

What is it...
Something off the books?

He said all the old Cowley firm
knew about it.

I don't.

(phone ringing)

Morse.

Oh, Miss Teagarden,
good afternoon.

Yes, in about half an hour?

Very well, until then...
Thank you.

(replaces receiver)

It's come down from Division.

Whatever you're about, they want
to pass it to the Yard.

Well, I can't help them.

Come on, we can talk straight.

Can we?

'Course, this is you and me.

Doesn't feel that way.

In fact, it hasn't felt that way
since I got to Castle Gate.

Feels more like you and Box.

No, that's fine.

Things change.

You don't owe me anything,

but I don't owe him anything,
either.

Certainly not loyalty.

He's not my guvnor...
Never will be.

You know, there is a line.

I just hope that you're
on the right side of it.

THURSDAY:
It's all there, every penny.

BOX:
I don't get it.

What's to get?

I had a mad half-hour,
that's all.

It's over.

Have a drink.

You're not thinking straight.

I'm thinking straight

for the first time
in a long while.

Maybe for the first time
since George Fancy.

Fancy?

That's what's got you
by the tail?

He's nothing to do with this.

He's everything to do with it.

He stood for something.

I take this, I might as well
piss on his graves.

Look.

There's no comeback,

if that's what
you're worried about.

It's bent.

The world's bent.

Always has been.

We can't fix it.

We can try.

Everybody else dips their beak...

For a sight less than us.

Protection money?
Yeah.

We protect people.

Every time we turn out.

'Cause it's ourjob.

Not for this,
not for a kickback.

Makes us no different
to Eddie Nero.

We are no different!

There are two kinds of people,
Fred.

Those who take,

and them that get taken.

I know what side I'm on.

So do I.

I always have done.

It slipped my mind.

Hhoughfl was owed.

I was wrong.

This job don't owe me anything.

So I'm giving it back.

It doesn't work like that.

It works how I say it does.

How you live your life
is your business.

You don't have to worry
about me.

I'm putting in for a transfer.

I'll be out of your hair.

Mind how you go.

DEBORAH:
I was closing up the house

when came across
a bundle of letters

at the back of my grandfather's
writing desk.

Well, photostats.

The originals, I imagine,
went with the rest

of the bequest materials.

To Garstang College.

At first, thought my grandfather

must have kept them
for the stamp...

They were from Oslo,
from a friend there.

But I couldn't see
why he would have made copies

if it was just the stamp
he was interested in.

Do you read German?

(chuckles):
Uh, no, no, I'm afraid not.

They're about
my Great-Uncle Emil

and his family.

Emil, scientist?

Uh, physicist.
Physicist, sorry.

He was part of the
Meitner-Hahn group in Berlin

researching heavy elements.

But with the passing
of the Race Laws,

things became impossible
for him.

Yeah, I don't doubt it.

Many of his colleagues
fled Germany,

but he was a patriot.

Afraid his work might fall
into the wrong hands,

he smuggled his notebooks
out of Germany

to someone he met
while lecturing at Oxford.

Someone he later came to believe
had betrayed him.

Right.

STRANGE:
You wanted to see me,

Worshipful Master.

Someone's threatening
the good works and reputation

of this lodge.

A man known to you.

How's that?

Morse, Brother.

Let us not deal falsely, eh?

We need to check his inquiries.

You'd be doing him
a bit of good.

If you appeal
to his reason, well,

can't hurt your prospects,
then, can it, eh?

Inspector Strange.

Inspector?

For those who keep their oaths,
Brother...

all things are possible.

The Page case.

Miss Teagarden came across
a bundle of letters...

Well, copies of letters...

That she found to have been
given to Garstang College

as part of
the Teagarden bequest.

Concerning?

Concerning the German side
of the family,

the Baumgartens.

You remember Burrowes said

that he used to go hiking
on the continent before the war.

Digging for fossils?
That's right.

Well, on one such trip,

he met and fell in love with
Deborah Baumgarten... Jewish.

She perished,
along with her family,

at a labor camp
called Mittelbau-Dora.

I know Mittelbau.

V-2 rockets

Her father had been a physicist
before the war.

He lectured here at Oxford,

where he befriended
a maths undergrad

at Garstang College.

Dora.

What was written up
on Nicholson's blackboard.

Exactly.

So according to these letters,

Nicholson promised to get
the Baumgartens out of Germany.

But when they arrived
at the embassy,

no one had so much
as heard of them.

Why would Nicholson betray him?

Baumgarten came to believe
that Nicholson

had only ever been interested
in his notebooks,

which he'd sent before him,
to Oxford, for safekeeping.

And Burrowes?
Well, 20 years later,

Bu rrowes was going
through the Teagarden bequest,

finds these letters
and this bank note.

It was found by Miss Paroo
at the Bodleian.

(exhales)

Used for currency

at Camp Mittelbau-Dora.
Mm.

Now, I believe

that Burrowes and Page
had a blazing row

over items that Page
cleared away from the library.

I just wonder what
the significance of it is.

Maybe this is what Burrowes
was looking for at Page's flat.

(brakes squeak)

(car doors close)

BURROWES: Geology
teaches a man pafience.

All my life...

Well, the part of it
which mattered...

I've mourned her fate.

But to find now that
it could have been avoided?

Should have been avoided?

That... we might have had
a life together...

Nicholson took that from me.

Well, worse... far worse.

He let them perish.

I wanted him to pay for that.

So you started this campaign.

The things left
in his cubby hole.

The little figurine of a golem.

The word "Dora" chalked up
on his board.

Did Page find

this Mittelbau-Dora banknote
of yours?

Was he aware that you were

behind this war of nerves
with Nicholson?

Is that why you killed him?

Page'?
Yes » P698.!

(chuckling): I had nothing
whatever to do with Page!

Left that banknote
in the Botdleian by accident,

with my list of stamps.

As far as was aware,
it wars lost.

So you went to Page's flat
looking for the banknote.

(chuckling)?
No.

Even if Osbert Page
had found it,

it wouldn't have meant anything
to him.

I freely admit the rest.

Jasper Nicholson got nothing
less than he deserved.

(Chuckling);
But Page?

That was nothing to do with me.

We know who's been sending you
these messages

and all the rest of it.

And we know why.

They've been spoken to,
you won't be getting any more,

but I can't say
as I don't feel some sympathy

for who's responsible,
given what you did.

(stammering):
What I did?

You promised Emil Baumgarten
and his family

that you'd get them to safety.

But at the last, you just
left them to their fate.

I tried... to get them out.

(stammering): I, I did everything
that was humanly possible,

all that was in my power to do,
but it was too late.

But not too late to take
his work for your own.

(stammering):
What do you mean, "his work"?

Yeah, his notebooks.

You could at least
have given the man credit

for his own work.

(exhales)

SO that's what you think.

Well, you must think it.

Dr. Nicholson...

Emil's work was flawed!

I mean, terribly,
monstrously flawed!

(stammering): As I read through his
notes, it became clear to me,

and it would have been obvious
to anyone else who saw,

that he had suffered
some kind of breakdown.

(sighs)

His mind...

Oh, his beautiful,
wonderful mind, all...

unraveling there before me,
on the pages.

The, uh, anxiety and stress
of his situation,

the worry for his family,
well, it must have, um...

So, uh...

we burnt his notebooks.

You destroyed them?

What else should have done?

I had to protect him
from those devils.

They might have taken his life,
but I swore to be resolved

that they would not take
his reputation.

He was my friend, and...

(voice breaking):
I failed him.

Uh...

I've carried the shame
of that failure...

My failure...

For more than 25 years.

Now, I'm a man
profoundly without faith...

But, I promise you,
not a day has gone by

that I have not,
with utter humility,

said the Mourner's Kaddish
for Em“ Baumgarten

and his murdered family.

No golem, then.

Seemingly not.

Burrowes is a rambler.

If the muddy boot prints
aren't his, whose are they?

What's wrong?

Nothing.

I'll drop you at the station.

And I'll put Box in the picture.

The Bridge of Sighs
was builtjust before...

BOY:
Look! It's the Pelican Man!

(children talking excitedly
in background)

(breathing nervously)

(children growing louder)

(yelling)

What's this?

(children clamoring)

(children clamoring)

Yes, yes, of course, you can,

you see it on the television,
huh?

(brakes squeak)

(engine stops)

What's going on?

Well, I know you,
so you must be McGyffin.

Is he running you,
or are you running him?

It's all right, Ronnie.

Why don't you go and wait
by the car, eh?

THURS DAY:
Guess that answers that.

Is he working you with his foot,
or what?

You should hear 'em out, Fred.

For your own sake.

I understand you're leaving
Oxford, Inspector.

Putting in for a transfer.

Word gets around.

Yeah, well,
that's all very lovely,

but you need to settle
your mess bill before you go.

Your boy's sticking his beak in
where it's not wanted.

You stop him, or we will.

You don't know Morse.

How's Charlie?

What'd you say?

Word is the Yard's looking
for your brother

in connection
with a long firm fraud.

I wouldn't know about that.

There's a check with your name
on says different.

On the other hand,

if Morse could be persuaded
to do the right thing...

He's an idealist.

Sure, we all are.

Maybe once, Councillor.

Now you're just a villain.

Same as this two-bob shitehawk.

Look.

You play fair,

and all your troubles...
disappear.

The check?

Gone.

Everything back to how it was.

Just bring him out
to Wicklesham tomorrow.

Maybe between us, we can
talk some sense into him.

Fred...

(grunts)

What you got me into,
you cowson?

You can't beat 'em, Fred.

I kn ow.

I thought it'd just be
a nice little tickle,

in and out, no harm done, but...

But once you're in...

These boys play for keeps.

It's you or Morse.

(gasping)

(elevator dings, doors close)

Everything all right?

Yeah.

I've been to see Burrowes.

And?

So I think I know
who killed Page.

Or who ordered it, at least,

even if he didn't do
his own dirty work.

Drink?
Thanks.

Page had been looking
into the disappearance

of a fellow rambler,
a man called Hollis Binks.

You remember, the initials
we found in his flat,

on the map on the wall... H.B.

Who is Binks?

Binks was the borough surveyor.

His body was recovered from the
foundations of Cranmer House.

Box's unknown'?

Why wasn't I told?

Well, I'm telling you now.

I think Binks's death
and Page's death

are both related to what
happened at Cranmer House.

Cranmer House was built
by McGyffin Construction

using concrete which should have
contained high-quality sand

from Four Winds Aggregate
out at Wicklesham.

But McGyffin also owns another
place out on the Gower coast.

The Gower.

That's where Page
wrote on the map-.

Yeah.

I think he was adulterating
the concrete

with unwashed sea sand
from the Gower coast.

So?

So, salt.

Well, the sodium
in the sea sand concrete mix

would have corroded
the iron rebars

running through Cranmer House,

weakening the entire structure.

Concrete cancer, they call it.

That's why the tower collapsed.

I think they were using
substandard material,

charging full price,
and pocketing the difference.

So Binks worked out
McGyffin was running a scam.

Yeah, him and his former boss
Councillor Burkitt.

He'd been to see
Professor Bu rrowes

to talk about geology

before he died.

They killed Binks
and Osbert Page?

Well, I've got forensics looking
into the muddy boot prints

we found both in the library
and at Page's flat.

And I'm convinced that it's
going to be the same material

will be found
at Wicklesham Quarry.

If Page was worried about Binks,
why didn't he come to us?

Report him missing?

Maybe he was afraid.

Of what?
Of us!

If a senior councillor
is involved,

then who knows how far it goes?

Say you're right.

People like that,

it only goes one way.

What're you saying?

It's a hiding to nothing.

You want another Blenheim Vale?

You got to let it drop.

Who are you trying to protect?

Box?
That what you think'?

It wasn't,
but maybe I was wrong,

and everyone else is right.

About what?
About you.

Hhoughfl knew who you were,

but this year,
I barely recognize you.

You've always given me
too much credit.

I'm not what you think.

What is going on?

You've got to let it go.

I can't.
That's an order!

(drawer rattling)

(Morse exhales, phone ringing)

Morse.

MAX:
Ah, there you are, it's Max.

Late for you.

Listen, I've just had
the results through

on your muddy boot prints.

Ah.

As suspected, consistent
with material found locally

at Wicklesham.

Sorry, wait a minute.

(in distance):
Can I help you?

(objects clattering over phone)

Doctor?

Max'?

(call ends, dial tone buzzing)

(mariachi ballad playing)

I'm off to bed now.

Right.

I'm sorry.

I made a mess of things, I...

I love you.

"Sorry" was all I wanted.

I kn ow.

I've loved you too long
to stop now.

I should've said it sooner.

♪ In the land of by and by I'

♪ You will know me
by my sorrow I

Better late than never.

♪ And I will knew you
by your smile .1"

(volume increases):
♪ Tears are for tomorrow ♪

♪ Now is for goodbye A'

♪ Come the dawn
I must be going F

4' But for now,
dear, please don't cry a'

♪ - SQ vaya can 0150s, Feline ♪

♪ Farewell,
my sweet cactus rose ♪

(phone ringing)

♪ For the bugler is playing
Degiiello

(phone continues ringing)

♪ And for me
it's the big adios '

♪ Whip-poor-wills are calling '

♪ Now as shades of evening
fall

(music fading slightly)

I heard the telephone.

Yes.

Yes, it was, uh...
It was just work.

What's wrong?

(softly): A moment's courage
or a lifetime of regret.

♪ For when the bugler plays
Degiiello

That's always been the choice.

♪ No quarter will be given

(clock ticking, song ends)

JAGO:
Surprised?

You couldn't see me for Box.

No one's coming.

It's how we came
into the world...

You, me, all of us.

We're born and we die alone.

(engine stops)

(car door closes)

All right, Morse?

MCGYFFIN: You picked the wrong
team, Brother.

STRANGE:
We're City men.

First and last.

We mind our own.

Where's DeBryn?

MORSE:
Alive?

Last time I looked.

It's all right, Doctor.

We'll have you home safe soon.

That's not how this goes,
you must have known that.

You can't believe you'll get
away with the murder

of four police officers and
a Home Office pathologist!

They plan to hang the crimes
on us, sir.

Who killed Fancy» you or Ronnie?

Box?

It was his gun.
Once.

But he's not the sand
for man's work,

or he'd be here now.

You stole Nerds heroin-.

It's the next big thing.

You took over
his whole business...

The protection, the drugs,
everything.

Who better than a copper to know
every filthy racket in the city?

How many times you seen 'em
get away with it, Fred?

It's a stacked deck.

The truth will come out.

Oh, the truth'll be

what I put in my report.

Afalling-out
of corrupt coppers...

(cocks gun): And settle
the last man standing-.

(siren blaring in distance)

Al!

(siren continues)

DS Jago may bear some influence

over Uniform and C.l.D.,

but his writ will not run
as far as Traffic.

(sirens blaring)

Sod 'this.

Get out! Get out!

(guns cocking)
Take 'em!

Split up!

(grunting, shouting)

(sirens blaring)

(object clatters in distance)

(metal squeaking in distance)

(footsteps pounding in distance)

(metal clatters)

(creaking)

JAGO:
It's over, Fred.

Put it down.

(places gun on floor)

MORSE:
Drop the gun!

(cocks gun)

Now!

You wouldn't shoot a man
in the back, would you, Morse?

The same way you shot
George Fancy?

He was just in the wrong place.

Drug money.

Put him down.

(footsteps approaching)

(door creaking)

Well, well, well.

Guvnor.

Found some bottle at last.

MORSE:
can all still

walk out of here alive!

IO:
Boss?

BOX:
No, we can't.

(guns fire, Jags gasps)

(breathing heavily)

I couldn't let 'em do it.

Who'd've thought...

Ronnie?

Ronnie!

(hits floor)

Ronnie...

Get an ambulance.

(birds squawking)

STRANGE:
All right, thanks.

Bu rkitt?
Turned Queen's.

Put the black spot
on all of them.

He say who did for Page?

McGyffiNs heavies,
on his orders.

That was the hospital.

Box is 50-50.

BRIGHT:
The report will reflect

a drugs ring smashed,

a criminal conspiracy unmasked,

and the death of a brave
detective constable

finally avenged.

STRANGE".
And ASS. Bottoms'?

Is to take early retirement.

The force cannot be judged
by the behavior

of a few rotten apples.

Division have assured me
there will be changes.

For the better, I hep-e.
Indeed.

Alas, I will be leaving Traffic

to assume overall command
at Castle Gate.

But with impending losses,

I shall need a reliable
detective sergeant,

if you're done with
your Forward Planning Committee.

Sir.

And a good man to head C.I.D.,

Acting Chief Inspector?

Might you be persuaded
to forego your transfer?

Depends on home, sir.

As does so much.

(quietly):
Morse.

Sir.

Very well.

Carry on.

(chuckles softly)

There's a...
bagman's desk going begging,

if you want it.

(phone ringing)

Castle Gate C.I.D.

DS Strange speaking.

I'll be needing a car.

Well, I'm sure we can
find you something.

Got Mrs. Thursday
on the blower.

I said you're fine,

but she doesn't sound
best pleased.

Wants to know what time
you're coming home.

Tell her he'll be home shortly.

Go on» I can manage.

I know you can.

Right, then.

Usual time in the morning.

(phone ringing)

Morse, Thames Valley.

(door opening)

(door closes)