All language subtitles for Murdoch Mysteries - 09x05 - 24 Hours Til Doomsday.KILLERS.English.HI.C.orig.Addic7ed.com

- synced and corrected by chamallow -
- www.addic7ed.com -

I'm merely stating that

given that the film was
based on a Jules Verne novel,

they could pay at least cursory attention

to scientific plausibility.

I believe it's meant for children, William.

Precisely. You wouldn't
want them to go through life

with a distorted understanding of physics.

So it's not possible to reach
the Moon by way of canon?

Even if enough force could be summoned,

the acceleration would crush you.

I can't even begin to discuss
the gravitational issues.

(chuckling): I thought you said
you loved this book as a child.

Well, I know better now.

You're right.

We're being followed.

- Hey, don't look now!
- How do you know?

He's been following us since the theatre.

How many turns have we taken
since leaving the theatre?

- Four.
- Well, assuming

three degrees of freedom at every turn...

- 3 to the power of 4...
- 81.

One person in 81 would take this route.

Yes, but not all routes are equal.

The odds of two parties
taking this exact route are...

It's impossible to calculate.

- Well, not impossible.
- Come this way.

There you have it.

He didn't even look in our direction.

I find that curious.

He was being a gentleman.

He assumed two lovers
stealing into the shadows.

- Mm-hmm...
- (giggling)

I think you should take me home.

(chuckling)

(gasp) William!

Who are you? You've been following us?

I demand to know why.

Get in, please.

Not without an explanation.

One will be forthcoming.
They only want you.

- Where he goes, I go.
- As you wish.

- Ah, Detective Murdoch.
- Terrence Meyers.

I might have known you'd be behind this.

(Julia): William.

- Prime Minister.
- Detective Murdoch,

I apologize for the way you were summoned.

Circumstances require it.

Allow me to introduce
my wife, Dr. Julia Ogden.

- I'm pleased to meet you, Doctor.
- It's an honour.

I'm afraid what we have to
say is not for the citizenry.

I know this woman, sir. I
believe she can be trusted.

Very well. A crisis has arisen, Detective.

- We have less than 20 hours.
- 20 hours to what?

To save Canada.

"Project D has been activated.

Unless payment of $4 million
is made by 6 p.m. tomorrow,

New York will burn." He goes on to provide

instructions on how payment is to be made.

- You received this?
- Four hours ago.

- What is Project D?
- Project D doesn't exist.

- Not officially, anyway.
- It was an idea,

tabled at a cabinet meeting two years ago

by then Defence Minister William Fergus.

- What does D stand for?
- Defence.

Although "Doomsday"
may be more appropriate.

This project called for a policy

of guaranteed reciprocal annihilation.

A series of enormous guns
are right along the border,

capable of delivering an
explosive device up to 400 miles.

So if one country starts a war, both
are mutually assured destruction?

After this meeting, a decision was made

to move Mr. Fergus to a safer ministry.

- Industrial development.
- He was supposed

to oversee construction
of a federal shipping yard.

We assumed everything was
going according to plan...

Until certain irregularities
came to our attention.

- Irregularities.
- Of a nature that suggested

Project D, in fact, was being built.

Unfortunately, by the time we started

an investigation, most of the
pertinent documents had been removed.

- And the minister himself?
- He has disappeared.

We followed him here to
Toronto, but he's now eluded us.

And you believe this minister
to be behind this extortion?

That's what we're hoping you can determine.

Meyers, you know how to reach me.

- Sir.
- Right, our first priority

is to find the minister and talk to him.

Do you have a photograph
of this Fergus fellow?

And where does he usually
stay when he's in town?

Queen's Hotel. But he
hasn't checked in yet.

What are his habits? If he's in hiding,

he'll change where he stays
but not how he travels, or

- the food he likes to eat.
- He likes to travel by coach,

as I understand, and he likes

his steaks bloody, or so I'm told.

I've never actually
broken bread with the man.

We'll see that the local
hotels are apprised.

- And steakhouses.
- And steakhouses.

Murdoch.

The future of Canada is in peril.

We have less than 20 hours.

I don't believe time to be an issue.

The trajectory of a
projectile is a function

of three variables:
distance, velocity and angle.

Assuming the angle for maximum range,

we arrive at a muzzle velocity of 7000 feet

per second. All of this
in a vacuum, of course.

- Your point?
- No explosive force

known to man could propel a large missile

anywhere near that speed.

- So it's impossible.
- With today's technology, yes.

A hoax, then?

Well that's a relief, then.

So who's behind this?
The minister, I assume.

Well, he initiated Project D,
brought it to your attention.

- What did he hope to gain?
- Aside from $4 million?

- Follow the money.
- Well, I say we call his bluff.

Unless someone else is
responsible for this.

- Such as?
- This letter was mailed from

Toronto in the afternoon post.

Who else is here in town
that knows about Project D?

Myself, the Prime Minister and
the Deputy Minister, Lester Mogg.

I was signing off on the purchase invoices

for the shipyards when I
found these items included.

Four-foot barrel sections?

Made of high-temperature steel.

50 barrels of liquid hydrogen.

Not exactly the kind of materials

one would need to build a shipyard.

So you figured Minister
Fergus was up to something?

These items were being diverted
to a warehouse in Oakville.

We investigated that
warehouse. We found it empty.

All the items had already been removed.

Mr. Mogg, I'm going to need
the details of every meeting

Minister Fergus has had since
he began at that ministry.

Every person he met
with, what was discussed.

- What's going on here, Murdoch?
- Liquid hydrogen isn't an explosive.

It's a propellant.

Project D isn't a
projectile, it's a rocket.

- The difference being?
- A projectile, um...

A bullet, or a cannonball... expends
its energy before leaving the barrel.

A rocket takes its energy along with it,

accelerating even after
it leaves the barrel.

Now, a properly directed,
constantly accelerated mass

could achieve the range
necessary to reach New York.

Crikey.

So this thing could be real after all.

- How much time do we have?
- 16 hours.

- What have you, George?
- A spot of luck, actually, sir.

The maître d' at
House of Beef remembers

serving Minister Fergus.
Steak and mash, apparently.

- And after that?
- Dessert, I would assume, sir.

- Something sweet.
- I'm not talking about the dessert, Crabtree.

Well, he hired a hansom cab.
It took him to the King's Hotel.

- Is that where he was staying?
- Well, that's just it.

- He's not listed as a guest.
- He may have been using a false name.

- Good work, George.
- There's more, sir.

According to ministry records,
Minister Fergus on several

occasions met with a Dr. Janice Kemps,

but no minutes were ever recorded.

Have you attempted to contact her?

The medical college has no
record of a Janice Kemps.

Well, I did find an address for a Dr. Kemps

at 2002 Trafalgar Road.

Oakville.

(insects buzzing)

Dr. Kemps?!

DR. JANICE KEMPS?

- Dr. Kemps!
- This is private property.

- You must leave.
- Detective Murdoch.

- I need to speak with you.
- Dr. Kemps is not here.

My name is Svetlana.

When will she be returning?

- Soon.
- Soon?

This is a matter of some urgency.

He returns presently.

He? Janice Kemps is a man?

What is that?

Is that a... a bird?

Some kind of airplane? Oh, you are wrong.

It's a man. An extraordinary man.

(muttering): What in the world?

(Svetlana sighs)

Dr. Janice Kemps. It's an anagram.

- James Pendrick.
- Hello, old friend.

Do you see any reflects or bright flashes?

Just the * from your eyes.

Do not joke. You were above 30 000 feet.

The pressure suit worked.

Excuse me... you were at 30 000 feet?

I was in the stratosphere, Murdoch.

Where the sky above me was dark.

- How?
- Hydrogen balloon,

made of a special rubberized
fabric I found in Japan.

Why?

Why? May as well ask why we take

- our next breath.
- Let me rephrase the question.

What has this to do with Project D?

Project D?

Minister Fergus's special project.

My work for the minister
is top secret, Murdoch.

I can't discuss it
without explicit authority.

Mr. Pendrick, I've been
charged with finding a weapon,

made of materials I believe to
have been shipped to this address.

Detective Murdoch,

I would have thought that you
knew me better than to think

that I, James Pendrick, would
ever build a weapon of any kind.

Sections of high-temperature steel,

four feet in diameter,
intended for the barrel of a gun

aimed at New York capable of firing

a rocket carrying explosives.

Well, there is a rocket.

But it's not aimed at New York.

It certainly isn't intended
to carry an explosive.

What's it intended to carry, then?

- Me.
- You?

The intent of my invention
is the exact opposite

of war, Murdoch.

I seek nothing less
than to be an ambassador

to a world beyond our own...

The Moon, Murdoch.

I intend to go to the Moon.

- That'll be all, squire.
- Sir?

I've shown the photograph to everybody.

The concierge says he knows
Minister Fergus personally.

He's sure he would have remembered him.

Go ahead, track down the
cabbies and the shoe-shine boys

who serve this hotel. See if
anyone remembers what happened

to the minister after he
was dropped off last night.

Sure.

Why would someone take a cab to a hotel

and then not go inside?

Perhaps they were trying
to throw us off the scent.

Or they arranged to meet
someone outside the hotel.

Whatever for?

Some meetings are meant to be pri...

vate.

- Minister Fergus?
- Yep.

As you can see, the rocket is intended
to carry a man, not explosives.

Where is this rocket now?

70 metres below our feet.

When it is fired, it will
accelerate through the launch tube

at three times the force of gravity.

Your body will weigh three times as much.

I've tested myself. I can
handle it. We will continue

to accelerate until we're
outside the atmosphere,

where we'll carry momentum
into orbit over the North Pole,

over Siberia, Mongolia...

and when we reach the South China Sea,

the rocket will begin to
descend. At which point

I will open the door to the rocket
and, wearing my gliding suit,

fly back to Earth,

landing on the isle of Borneo.

Borneo?

- And how long will this all take?
- From takeoff to landing,

2 hours, 45 minutes.

That's a rather long time
in such an enclosed space.

It is, and I must confess

to suffering from bouts of claustrophobia.

And that's why we placed the launch control

- inside the rocket itself.
- If I'm going to launch myself

into orbit in a tin can
the size of a coffin,

I very much want to choose the moment.

Well, I am very impressed.

Of course you are. But I
didn't do it alone, Murdoch.

Here! This.

"The Exploration of Cosmc Space by Means

of Reaction Devices by
Konstantin Tsiolkovsky."

It outlines the means by which
man can travel to the planets.

I had to travel to Russia
just to meet the man

and ended up with his brilliant daughter.

My brilliance is like
the Moon next to your sun.

We made a proposal to the
Minister of Industrial Development.

Canada could lead the
world in space exploration.

Imagine a Canadian flag
planted on the Moon.

- He agreed to fund our project.
- With the proviso

that it be kept top secret.
Hence, Dr. Janice Kemps.

James...

Minister Fergus has no
interest in going to the Moon.

He intends to use all of this technology

to make a weapon capable
of reaching New York City.

Impossible.

Svetlana... the experiments.

What experiments?

Minister Fergus insisted that we conduct

careful experiments to determine
the range of the rocket.

It became very exact.

Aiming for and sinking a
rocket into Lake Abitibi,

350 miles away.

The exact distance to New York City.

Murdoch, I've been blind.

- Oh, my love...
- No, I should have known.

I have too much faith in humanity.

He'll tell you; it's my fatal flaw.

I will do anything I can to help you.

(indistinct chatter)

Appears he was garrotted.

There's no blood loss that
I can see, no visible wounds.

Was he killed here, Doctor?

I'll know more when I do the post-mortem.

- (door closing)
- Ms. James?

I may need your assistance.
Are you able to take dictation?

I can try.

Gentlemen, prepare the corpse.

James Pendrick is behind all this?

He didn't send the note.
And there is no weapon.

Well, what about the barrel sections?

- - And the rocket fuel?
Yes, there is a rocket,

but it's pointed north.

So we've done all this
running around for nothing.

Well, sir, someone is
still trying to extort

millions from the government.

And a federal minister has been murdered.

- Best not forget that.
- (knocking)

Julia! What have you?

Given the temperature
and the state of rigor,

Minister Fergus was killed between
9 and 10 o'clock last night.

And I've yet to examine
the rest of the contents,

but I found this in his stomach.

59.

It's a locker key from Union Station.

If he took the trouble to swallow that key,

it behooves us to find
out what it opens. Agreed?

(knocking) Sirs?

A shoeshine boy claims he saw the Minister

step into a carriage outside
the King's Hotel last night.

- What time was this?
- About 9 o'clock.

That's about the time he was dropped off.

- And guess who's renting a room at the King's Hotel?
- Just tell us, Crabtree.

Well, I have a guess. Lester Mogg.

Deputy Minister.

(Murdoch): Minister
Fergus arranged to meet.

Why did you not tell us?

- (Mogg): He never showed up.
- (Craig): And you didn't think that pertinent?

- What was the meeting about?
- I was hoping to convince him

- to turn himself in.
- Or perhaps you lured him to

- the hotel so you could kill him.
- Why would I kill him?

He was our only suspect. Kill him

and no suspicion would fall on you.

You think I'm behind all this?

You knew about Project D.

You gave us just enough information

to believe the weapon had been built.

And you killed the minister to
keep us from learning the truth.

(small laugh) I didn't.

Sir.

I've been to locker 59 at Union Station.

Look at this.

- Is this Pendrick's rocket?
- Yes.

- The same.
- But this one is aimed at...

122 degrees.

- Southeast.
- What lies at that bearing?

New York City.

Mr. Ambassador.

Prime Minister.

Detective Murdoch. Terrence.

To what do I owe such esteemed company?

- (door creaking)
- Please, sit.

Alan Clegg is the ambassador?

Can I offer you some Necco
wafers? Straight from my hometown.

Thank you, no. I'm afraid
this isn't a social visit,

Ambassador. In less than five hours,

unless we can locate it first,

a missile will be fired from
Canadian soil towards America.

A missile?

What kind?

A rogue minister has built a missile

capable of reaching New York City.

Purely for defensive purposes.

But now, someone has killed
the minister and is threatening

to fire said rocket.

What will it be carrying?

Approximately 200 pounds of TNT.

We're telling you now so
that arrangements can be made

on the ground to minimize loss of life.

I can say without rancor

that while America appreciates your candor,

if this rocket is fired and lives are lost,

a state of war will exist between

the United States and Canada.

What are our options, gentlemen?

- We pay the ransom.
- That is not an option.

I understand, sir. A
$4 million hole wouldn't

escape public scrutiny. Are you suggesting

I would choose destruction
of my country over my career?

No. No, not at, at all, sir.

- I regret if you inferred that I was inferring that...
- Enough.

You're a good spy, Meyers.

Your skills as a toady are sadly lacking.

I won't bankrupt this
country in order to save it.

$4 million would hardly
bankrupt the country, sir.

And what about the next payment?
And the payment after that?

Until we find this rocket,
the millions will flow

like water down a drain.

Prime Minister, if I may?

The schematics of this second
rocket show it launching

from an angle of 122.4 degrees.

So, southeast.

Assuming that the intended
target is lower Manhattan,

I can trace back along this bearing

to where the rocket is being launched from.

But it could be anywhere along this line?

Yes, sir. That's why I would need

to calculate the expected
range of the rocket.

Could you make such a calculation?

No. Well, yes. Yes.

But I would have to return
to Mr. Pendrick's facility.

Well, then, do so! With all haste!

Gentlemen. Sir.

- Sorry if I'm interrupting.
- It's quite alright, Julia. What is it?

Someone's interfered with morgue evidence.

- Pertaining to which case?
- The latest, I'm afraid.

Minister Fergus.

I always place the jar with
the label directly facing front.

And this is?

Mr. Fergus's stomach contents.

Hmm...

And when you returned?

The label was skewed to the right.

What are these?

I've yet to do my analysis.

Hmm... No spy worth his name

would leave such an obvious indicator.

He wanted us to find this.

- You think this was the work of a spy?
- Of course.

Likely one of our own.
He lacked sufficient time

to alter the contents, so he chose instead

to adulterate them, leaving a
suspicion of said alteration.

Unless, of course, he anticipated

we would make that assumption.

Was there any sign of a break -in?

- No.
- Was there anyone else in the morgue when you left?

The morgue attendant, possibly.

Bring him to me.

I'd like to interview him personally.

This is exactly the same
rocket as the one we built.

I was hoping to determine
its range from these diagrams.

Oh, if we know exact mass,
we can solve for distance

- using my father's equation.
- Well, the plan calls

for 200 pounds of TNT. I don't
know the tare weight of the rocket.

I do. This should take just a few minutes.

We're going to have to scale this down.

Here, here.

- Mississauga Road?
- Just east of here. What of it?

The carbon sheet must have been folded,

preventing the rest of the
word from printing through.

"289 Miss."

You think this could be Mississauga Road?

That's all we have.

He had nothing to do with this.

He's worked with me for years.

- (door closing)
- (telephone ringing)

He won't talk.

I may need to apply more strenuous methods.

I thought the Canadian government
foreswore the use of torture.

Technically, I'm not part of
the Canadian government, Doctor.

Just calm down.

Who else has a key to the morgue?

The other morgue attendants,
but they'd already...

Doctor?

Excuse me, gentlemen.

I need to test a theory.

Based on assumed mass, I've calculated

distance of 349 miles.

349 miles...

Mississauga Road.

It looks like your suspicions were correct.

Shall we?

There's nothing here!

Could we have missed it?

The specifications call for a launch muzzle

and a control room at a
bearing of 122.4 degrees.

We've passed nothing like that.

Unless Ms. Tsiolkovsky's
calculations were wrong.

Have a look at this.

Svetlana's calculations.

She used the distance to
calculate for the mass,

instead of the mass to
calculate the distance.

But how would she know the distance?

We spoke about Mississauga Road.

You think she deliberately
misled us to that location.

How do I keep doing this?

How can I, a man of reason and intellect,

possess such...

terrible judgement in those I trust...

in those I give my heart to?

We need to redo the calculation.

Yes, of course. Forgive me my self-pity.

(sighing): Let's get to work.

(door closing)

My landlady said you asked to see me?

Ms. James. Did you go into

the evidence locker earlier
today, while I was out?

- Yes, I did.
- Did you remove any of the evidence?

Yes, but just enough to
conduct my experiment.

- (sigh)
- I was going to bring it back.

Back? After you'd adulterated
it with your experiment?

Ms. James, we've wasted an hour

chasing imaginary spies because of you.

- I'm sorry.
- I'm sorry, too.

But I won't have someone working
for me that I can't trust.

I won't file a complaint, but

I must ask you to hand in your key.

- What figure did you arrive at?
- 315 miles.

So did I.

Niagara-on-the-Lake.

Look. It wasn't Mississauga Road.

Mississauga Street.

We have to notify the Niagara constabulary.

They won't be able to stop the
missile. Only I can do that.

We can't get there on time.

- She cut the phone line!
- Of course she has.

That won't impede us, Murdoch.
That only limits our options.

- What options?
- Look at the wind gage.

- 35 miles per hour.
- From the north!

I have an extra gliding suit, Murdoch.

What was she doing rifling
through the evidence locker?

I believe she was trying to help.

That's her story.

- She's not a spy.
- Of course she isn't.

But she could well be working for one.

She's just a young woman
who showed poor judgement.

So you're telling us the best
lead we had is now a dead end?

- I'm afraid so.
- I guess it's all up to Murdoch now.

♪

(Murdoch): Ah! Ah!

Sir, that was Oakvilles constabulary.

Pendrick's facility's been emptied out.

The telephone line's been cut.

I was afraid of this.

What?

Clearly, whoever's behind this has
cut off the lines of communication

- and neutralized them. - Neutralized?

Killed.

It's a shame, really.
They were both good men.

However, gentlemen, the
fate of the nation is now

our prime concern and if Murdoch is dead...

then our last option is expired.

We must inform the prime minister.

Bloody old Murdoch. Where are ya?

- Both dead?
- Most likely, sir.

Sir, whoever is behind
this is clearly ruthless.

If they were willing to
kill a crown minister,

they wouldn't hesitate to
kill men of lesser importance.

So there's only one
course of action remaining.

I'm afraid so.

I won't pretend I'm not disappointed.

Should have acted more quickly
when it first came to light.

That was my error.

How is payment to be made?

$4 million in Dominion Bonds
are to be placed in a briefcase

and left outside Crawford's Pawn Shop.

Right. Get to it.

- We have less than half an hour.
- Sir.

Are you alright, Murdoch?
We parachuted late.

I flew!

I actually flew! Ha ha ha!

- Yeah. It's quite something, isn't it?
- Yes!

The launch tube and
control room are over there.

I flew!

Svetlana!

They've scuttled the launch controls.

- [Help me!]
- Svetlana.

[James, you must help me.]

Svetlana, where are you?

[I'm in the barn. I've been
strapped to the launch tube.]

My God!

The missile's about to fire.

A man will pick up this suitcase and he
will leave with it. He's not to be arrested

or detained in any way. Is that understood?

- (all): Yes, sir.
- Sir...

We're not letting him get away
with it, Crabtree. We're letting

him think he's getting away
with it. He gets on a streetcar?

I want two constables
sitting three rows behind.

If he changes streetcars,
one of you is to follow

and the other one is to
arrange a replacement.

You all know where the call boxes are.

- Sir, what if he goes on foot?
- Then it's the old

follow-and-switch. We do our jobs right,

he won't even know. Let's get to it.

(all): Yes, sir.

- Svetlana!
- James! James!

(out of breath): Ah, how did you find me?

Who are you working for, Ms. Tsiolkovsky?

- No, it's not what you think!
- You don't want to know what I'm thinking.

I don't know his name.
He's from the government.

He told me we would split $4 million.

He told me the rocket
would never have to fire.

- Why?
- I did it for you, my love.

- Me?
- You are the greatest man I've ever known.

What you could do with $2 million...

Forget the Moon. You could bring to mankind

all the benefits of science. A brave
new world will be yours to create.

Not like this, Svetlana. Never like this.

We only have eight minutes to stop it.

No, there's no stopping
it. The clock is in the cone

of the rocket. Once it's set,
there's no turning it off.

- What about the override?
- No, the override has been destroyed.

Murdoch, I have to get to that cone.

How?

There's only one way... down the barrel.

- How far down is it?
- 70 metres. I'll have to slide.

- Oh, dear. Oh, dear.
- What is it?

He suffers from fear of enclosed spaces.

It's OK. I'll, I'll get
over it. I need a moment.

We don't have a moment, Mr. Pendrick.

Damn it, Murdoch. I'll talk you through it.

(echoing): Use the walls to brace yourself!

- (thump)
- (grunt)

I can't get it off!

It's a right-handed thread!

(muttering): That's it.

- (dramatic music)
- (indistinct chatter)

Lester Mogg.

(ticking)

Which wire?

- Which wire?
- Red. No, blue. No! Red.

Pick one!

Pick one?!

- (loud rumbling)
- Pick the other one!

(loud drone)

He's done it. He's done it!

Murdoch! Murdoch, you did it!

Contact Station House Number Four!

(whispering): Thank you.

The bollocks on this one.

- What?
- Huh?

Looks like he's daring us to make a move.

- Exactly.
- Sir.

We've just been in touch with Pendrick.
Detective Murdoch's disabled the rocket.

Has he, now? Would you
like the honours, Terrence?

You're very kind, Thomas.

How many times do I have to tell you?

As many times as it takes to convince me.

I received a telephone call.
I don't know who it was...

didn't recognize the voice.

He told me I would find the
minister's papers in a briefcase

outside of Crawford's Pawnshop.

I was trying to help.

Murdoch! Bloody good work.

Likewise, sir. I understand
we have a suspect in custody?

All we did was slap the cuffs on him.

You climbed down the
barrel of a bloody cannon,

just as it was about to be
fired. And you flew, no less!

- Oh, it was more akin to plummeting, really.
- Doctor!

- You would not believe what...
- Uh, Julia! What have you?

Ms. James has identified the mysterious

remnants I found in the minister's stomach.

- Ms. James?
- That's why she removed the evidence.

- She was testing a theory!
- What theory?

They're Necco wafers.

Only sold in the Boston area.

- Gentlemen!
- Murdoch, if you will?

We found these in the stomach

contents of Minister Fergus.

Necco wafers, from the
Boston area, I believe.

That only proves that
Minister Fergus was here.

I never suggested otherwise.

We also believe these carpet
fibres will match your carpet.

I'm sure they'll match
those of many carpets.

Honestly, Gentlemen. If you're trying...

Would you bring her in, please?

Is this him?

Yes, this is the man of whom I spoke.

- He promised me the money.
- So...

What is it exactly about
our humble little country

that you want so badly?

Have you heard of Svante Arrhenius?

The Swedish scientist who
predicted that carbon dioxide

emitted from coal burning
would warm global temperatures

by 8 degrees by the end of the century?

In 100 years,

when America is nothing
but a boundless desert,

Canada will have the ideal climate.

How could I not do everything
I could to save my country?

- By bombing your own people?
- It was aimed at the Irish sector.

Alan Clegg, you are under arrest

for the murder of Minister Fergus.

You seem to have forgotten
I have diplomatic immunity.

Hmm... our prime minister had a little chat

with your president earlier.
Immunity's been waived.

And I'm going to see that you hang.

Let's be having ya.

(officer): Easy...

Ms. James, I appreciate your initiative,

but why didn't you simply tell me?

We could have tested your theory together.

I didn't think it was my place.

I'm just a cleaner, after all.

Well, I think we both know that's not true.

You have medical knowledge.

How?

I spent a year at the New
York Medical College for Women.

- Why didn't you finish?
- My patron died.

His son was less inclined
to support my schooling.

Well, Ms. James, I can't
hire you back as a cleaner.

I understand.

But if I had an assistant

who I could rely on...

I haven't spoken to the city,

so I don't know what I could
offer you in terms of a salary,

- but if you are interested...
- Yes. Yes.

- (giggle)
- (Pendrick): Will she hang?

Oh, of course not.

She'll probably have to
spend some time in jail.

I'll wait for her.

Whatever she did, she did it for me.

Perhaps I'm not such a bad
judge of character after all.

(loud buzzing)

- (beeping)
- Must be Meyers.

He's in the launch room.

I don't like him snooping around in there.

(whistle)

I can't believe you're
going to destroy all this.

The Americans are insisting on it.

Not before I'm done with it.

I'm going to launch myself
into orbit, Murdoch. Tonight.

Are you serious?

I've already prepared the
system. All I have to do is get

inside the rocket and
press the "go" switch.

In six hours, I will be
the first man in space.

- (beeping)
- (alarm sounding)

- (metallic buzzing)
- What?!

- What is it?
- He's inside the rocket!

- What?!
- (alarm sounding)

What the devil is he doing?

(squeaking metal)

- (creaking)
- (bang)

(air escaping)

Uh, oh.

Hey. Hey!

No. He couldn't have!

FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, HELP ME!

- No!
- Meyers. Meyers!

(low rumbling)

(screaming)

Damn.

Indeed.

- William?
- Mm-hmm?

Had an interesting conversation

with the inspector today.

You did?

Indeed. You diffused a bomb

- that could have caused a war?
- I did.

A bomb affixed to a rocket?

Yes.

So a hero, again.

(chuckling)

He told me something else, as well.

Well, the inspector
certainly was talkative today.

You rode in a balloon and jumped out of it

in some kind of suit?

Mr. Pendrick assured me that it was safe.

And flew?

William Henry Murdoch,

if you ever do something
like that, ever again,

you had better take me with you.

(giggling)

Announcer: On an all-new Murdoch.

Death by a shot.

You could say he drank himself

six feet under the table.

Announcer: And banning
liquor may be the influence.

The question is,

is one of them willing to kill for it?

Announcer: Murdoch Mysteries,

next Monday at 8:00 on CBC.

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