All language subtitles for Murdoch Mysteries (2008) - S04E02 - Kommando (1080p BluRay x265 Langbard)

Sir,

this chap was walking his dog
when he discovered the body.

He's had quite a shock.

Understandably.

And the body wasn't disturbed
in any way?

No, sir.
It was found where it lies--

or where it is, I suppose.

His head, sir, it's...

Rotated 180 degrees.

The sheer force required
to do something inhuman...

Yes, George.

That thought
had crossed my mind.

You serious, Murdoch?

The soldier's head
back to front?

A rather disquieting sight,
sir.

And the body
tossed up into a tree?

- So it would appear, yes.
- Bloody hell.

That's pure deadweight,

to be thrown around
like a rag doll.

Sir, the circumstances
would suggest

the killer
is highly determined.

Highly determined?

A deranged ape is what he is.

And what in the hell
was a soldier doing

running around out there
to begin with?

I've contacted the armory,
sir.

Perhaps the military's
representative

will have an explanation.

He's due at the morgue shortly.

Just mind
that you stand your ground.

I'm sorry, sir?

Well, in my experience,

the military
takes care of its own.

They won't enjoy
the Constabulary

looking into their business.

I see.

I'll proceed with respect
and authority of law.

Authority first, Murdoch.
Respect will follow.

Death was instantaneous.

The victim's third, fourth,
and fifth cervical vertebrae

were shattered,
transecting the spinal column.

Yes, I believe the term
is "death by spinal shock."

Oh, been to the library again,
have you?

Anyway, key items of interest
are multiple broken ribs,

shattered femur,
ruptured spleen.

But there is no bruising,

meaning that the victim
was severely beaten

after he was dead.

Rage, suggesting
a personal aspect.

I remember
a case in London

where a group of hooligans
beat a young lad

for a full half hour
after he'd succumbed,

just for the fun of it.

Point taken.

But you didn't mention
these bruises

on the upper arm and torso.

They've yellowed.

Clearly, the victim
endured a beating

previous to last night.

Important information, Doctor.

Do you have
any other observations,

or shall I continue
with my own examination?

Colonel Heywood.

Of the Queen's
Canadian Rifles.

What is this,

a bloody reception hall?

Detective William Murdoch.

And this is our pathologist,
Dr. Francis.

Fine. May I?

Yes, of course.

He's one of our own.
Corporal Joseph Fryer.

My condolences.

You weren't specific
over the telephone, Detective.

Was it a fall, then?
An accident?

No, sir.
He was murdered.

I want the body released

to the armory immediately,
Detective.

Oh.

Dr. Henderson,
our medical officer,

will perform
our own postmortem

while you hunt down the killer.

I don't wish to offend you,
Dr. Francis.

Oh, I bet you don't.

Begging your pardon, Colonel,

but I'll be deciding
when the body is to be released.

Detective Murdoch--

It would be most helpful
if you could explain

Corporal Fryers presence
in the woods last night.

I'm sure it would be helpful,
if I knew.

I take that to mean your man
was absent without leave?

I'll have to refer you
to his commanding officer,

Major Gregory Cole
of the British 191st Fusiliers.

He's here on loan
to train some of our men.

Now, if that is all.

Yes, sir, that is all.

Made another friend there,
have you?

Excuse me.
I'm looking for Major Cole.

On guard!

Charge!

Group one, on guard.
Charge!

On guard.
Charge!

Don't get stuck in there.

Group one, on guard!
Charge!

Group two, on guard!
Charge!

Section, stand down.

State your business, sir.

Detective William Murdoch,
Toronto Constabulary.

I'm here to investigate

the death
of Corporal Joseph Fryer.

Yes, Detective.
This way, please.

We were devastated when
Colonel Heywood broke the news.

Corporal Fryer was well-liked

and as promising a soldier

as I've had the pleasure
to train.

Do you know of anyone
who may have wished him harm?

Nobody that I'm aware of,
Detective,

certainly not amongst my men.

This team is a close-knit group.

All for one, as it were.

I see.

Well, feel free
to ask the men

any questions
about the Corporal.

They want nothing more than
his killer brought to justice,

as do I.

Very good.

Thank you, Major.

Thank you, gentlemen.

Thank you, sir.

Corporal Ned Young, sir.

Corporal Raymond Tennant, sir.

Detective William Murdoch.

Were both of you gentlemen
in the barracks last night?

Yes, sir,
I have the bunk above Fryer's,

and Corporal Young,
the one adjacent.

When did you become aware

that Corporal Fryer
was no longer in the armory?

Right before roll call
this morning at 5:00.

All the other lads were
surprised to see him gone too.

I thought maybe
he went on a midnight prowl.

Cynthia is her name.

I highly doubt
Corporal Fryer

rendezvoused
with his sweetheart

armed with his
Lee-Enfield rifle.

I can see your point, sir.

We want whoever did this
hanging from a rope.

Yes, well...

Do either of you recall
this Cynthia's last name?

You're certain it's him?

Unfortunately, yes,
Miss Fletcher.

Well, if Joseph
was out wandering late,

it wasn't to see me.

Whoever she is,
I don't know her name.

I can assure you,

Corporal Fryer was not
pursuing amorous activity.

It's cold comfort, I'm sure.

In any case, here I am,

25, three months
of courtship wasted.

And in your time together,

how would you describe
your relationship?

Oh, when we first met,
he was all things:

charming, confident,
and very...

energetic.

Had that changed?

Well, lately I did notice
Joseph was having his moods.

He wouldn't talk about it,

but something
was bothering him.

Can you hazard a guess
as to what that may have been?

No.

Right.

Had he been quarreling
with anyone as of late?

There was one night last week.

Joseph was on leave.
He came by for a... visit.

He'd been in a fight.

He was full of curses
for a man named...

Lawton, I believe.

Joseph's lip
was bleeding on my floor.

I sent him away promptly.

Naturally.

And did he mention
where he had been that evening?

He was in his cups.

The Raven and Flag.

Will this take long,
Detective?

I have thirsty patrons
needing eye-openers.

Please, have a seat,
Mr. Skinner.

I understand a Joseph Fryer
frequented your establishment.

Yes, he was a regular,
till a few weeks ago.

Yet someone told me
that he had an altercation

with one of your patrons there
just a short while ago,

a man named Lawton.

Not at The Raven and Flag,
he didn't.

And I have never heard
of a man named Lawton before.

Pardon me, Mr. Skinner.

Thank you.

Are you sure Mr. Fryer
didn't participate

in any fights
at your establishment,

specifically in the back room?

The back room?

Yes, my constables
discovered a boxing venue there,

as well as these.

Teeth? So what?

You shutting me down?

Tell me what I want to know
about Fryer,

and we'll see.

Yeah, he fought there.

He was a damn fine pugilist too.

For a while, he was winning
all the bloody time.

What about Mr. Lawton?

Tell me
what you know about him.

I honestly have never heard
of that man before.

I swear it.

And it has been a few weeks
since anybody's seen Fryer,

most likely due to the fact

that he lost every fight
in the past month.

Perhaps he was
wagering against himself.

No, no, no, no, no, no.

He just couldn't fight.

It was almost like
he was dead punch-drunk.

So a brawling soldier
on a winning streak

suddenly goes soft and moody.

Someone named Lawton
gave him a bloody lip last week,

but you don't know
where that took place.

No one knows
why Fryer went AWOL,

and not a single murder suspect
stinking up my jail cells.

I miss anything, Murdoch?

Sir, the humiliation of losing
could be motive.

Fryer had been winning
most of his matches

for quite some time.

Perhaps one of his opponents
was getting even.

Getting even?

You break a fella's nose,
Murdoch.

You don't nearly tear
a man's head right off

and hang him in a tree.

Yes.

Somewhat of a stretch,
as you might say, sir.

If Joseph Fryer
had been involved

in illegal prizefighting,

perhaps he was also active
in other unsavory endeavors.

- Sirs, pardon the interruption.
- Yes, George?

We have another body
off Lennox Street.

It's certainly connected
to the Joseph Fryer case.

Sir, this can't be
a coincidence.

This is Corporal Ned Young,
George.

I interviewed him
this morning.

Knife wound to the spine.

His jaw appears to be broken.
Postmortem, I'd suspect.

What can it all mean, sir?

Perhaps the question is,

what do Corporals Young
and Fryer have in common?

We know they resided
in the same barracks

and were part
of the same squad,

a squad that for some
unknown reason

has become someone's
target of choice.

Fryer
and now Young.

They were like blood brothers.

Terribly sorry, Major Cole.

If I may,
what was Corporal Young doing

away from the armory today?

He was upset
over Corporal Fryer's death.

I gave him leave
for the afternoon

to contend with his grief.

Of course.

May I have a duplicate
of your squad's service records?

Of course, Detective.
Whatever you need.

Thank you.

Are you at all familiar
with a man named Lawton?

Lawton?

I don't believe so.

I see.

Major, I strongly suggest

you put the rest of your squad
on alert

and possibly even confine them.

I've already issued
that alert,

as per Major Cole's orders.

Please forgive my incomplete
knowledge of military standings,

but doesn't colonel
outrank major?

Major Cole
is an honored British adviser,

a veteran
of the Transvaal Boer War

and the Battle of Tel-el-Kebir
in Egypt.

His experience is invaluable
to the training of our men.

- And we are most grateful.
- Mm-hmm.

Very well.
Thank you, gentlemen.

That Colonel Heywood
seems quite the horse's--

Thank you, George.

Once Major Cole
supplies the information,

please look into
the civilian background

of every soldier in his squad.

Sir. Will do.

Two dead soldiers
from the same squad.

Any theories, Murdoch?

Past indiscretions, perhaps?

Both Corporals Young and Fryer

had previous
criminal backgrounds:

receiving stolen goods,
selling stolen goods,

as well as assault convictions.

In fact, of the seven men
in Major Cole's squad,

five of them
had criminal backgrounds.

Back in '79, most every man
in my Afghan contingent

had been thieves or vagabonds
at some point.

The army's the last bastion
for some.

And you, sir?

Well, I made it
into the Constabulary, didn't I?

Yes, I'm well aware

of the thorough
screening process.

Uh, excuse me, sirs.

What have you, George?

An interesting turn,
I would say.

I looked
into Joseph Fryer's estate.

I found
that he and Corporal Young

and the other members
of the squad

are engaged
in a binding legal pact,

payable upon their deaths.

You mean a tontine.

Yes, exactly, sir.

A tontine is a kind
of group insurance policy.

Everyone pays in.

Last surviving member inherits
the whole kit and caboodle.

Well, then perhaps one
of the soldiers in this tontine

is trying to cash in
prematurely.

Corporal Tennant,
I understand your squad

entered into a tontine agreement
three months ago.

Yes, sir.

We hired a lawyer
to make it fair and legal.

And what inspired you
to enter into this agreement?

Inspired?

We don't need inspiration.

We're combat soldiers.

But your squad
hadn't seen combat

prior to entering
into the tontine,

and it still hasn't.

To my knowledge, Canada
has yet to engage in any war.

War is brewing everywhere
pretty well all the time, sir.

We stand ready
to defend the British Empire.

That means we could be
into it tomorrow.

Are you feeling anxious,
Corporal?

Yes, sir.

A bit on edge is understandable,
given these murders.

Indeed.

I'll need to see a copy
of this tontine agreement.

That is unless, of course,
you have any objections.

None that I can think of.

Matthew Larson?

He was full of curses
for a man named...

Lawton, I believe.

Good work today, men.

Now you're looking
like soldiers.

Squad dismissed!

Thank you, Tom.

Detective Murdoch.

Have you made any progress
with your investigation?

Why did you leave
Corporal Matthew Larson's name

off of your squad list?

Well, it's quite simple,
Detective.

You requested a list
of the men under my command.

Mr. Larson was discharged
long ago.

And why was he discharged?

I'm instructing the men
in antiguerrilla warfare,

a Dutch concept
known as kommando.

It's light infantry

with emphasis on reconnaissance,
camouflage, and marksmanship.

The nature of war is changing,
Detective.

Our soldiers must adapt.

Mr. Larson wasn't up
to the challenge.

I see.
And where might I find him now?

His exact whereabouts,
I'm not sure.

But I do know
he was a local boy.

Mr. Larson, please,
help me find your son.

It could be he had
nothing to do with this.

But if he did,

I need to find him

and stop him before
any more harm can be done.

You know, Matthew
was a good farm boy

but not soldier material,

not enough
self-control, discipline.

Do you have a photograph
of him?

Yes, yes.

It's right
in that drawer there.

That would be him
in the back there,

second from the right.

- These are baobab trees?
- Mm, yes.

It was taken
four or five months ago

on a training mission
to Africa.

He said he was gonna
go out there

and prove he could
handle himself.

Of course, he couldn't.

I suppose when you don't live up
to your own expectations,

it'll take its toll.

He come back,
he was all hot-tempered and...

haunted, I suppose you'd say.

Haunted?
How do you mean?

The boy went out there,
he was full of pride.

Comes back...

Just hating himself.

You know, I should have
held on to the family farm.

It would have been something
for Matthew to settle down on.

But I didn't, so...

Well, now that old farmhouse
is just ruined.

It's sitting out there
at the edge of the city.

Higgins, Guthrie, this way.

George.

Is that Larson?

Corporal Tennant.

Keep your eyes open, George.

Stop!

No, George.

Fan out along the tree line.

- I want him alive.
- Yes, sir.

Go! Go!

And then, like
a jack-in-the-box from hell,

out pops Larson,

screaming bloody murder,

face sickly,
covered in lesions, like...

like the sixth plague of Egypt.

I beg your pardon?

Yes, sir,
the sixth plague of Egypt.

I've been researching it
for my murder mystery.

The plague of boils.

That's what Larson's face
was like.

A terrible condition,
very contagious.

In fact...

The constable's
somewhat dramatic account

is essentially accurate.

Larson seemed crazed
and very much in ill health.

Ill health

but still fit enough
to kill Corporal Tennant,

to make his escape.

True, sir.
But one puzzling thing.

He broke off the attack, sir.

He looked right at me

and then suddenly
seemed surprised.

I got the impression
that he initially thought

I was someone else.

So he's crazed

but not crazy enough
to kill just anyone,

except soldiers.

Sir, may I suggest we post men
at his father's house

in case Larson
seeks refuge there?

George?

- Sir, I'll see to it.
- Thank you.

Higgins!

And what about the military?

A lot of good they've done
in all this mess.

Well, sir,
Major Cole has been cooperative

but, as I'm finding out,

not particularly forthcoming
with details.

For starters,
what the bloody hell

was Corporal Tennant doing
at the Larson farm?

Corporal Tennant
disobeyed a direct order.

The squad was confined
to the armory last night.

But it seems Corporal Tennant

decided to take matters
into his own hands.

Perhaps the man
in your squad

aren't "all for one,"
as you previously thought.

Now, why would that be?

All I know is,
I've lost another man.

And Larson is free
to kill again.

Are you sure it's not time
to allow the military

to assume control
of the investigation?

I'm quite sure.

And if it were your men
dropping like flies?

I will bring Larson
to justice.

You can rest assured of that.

As you wish.

Larson was visibly ill
when I encountered him.

He seemed crazed.

There's something
you should see, Detective.

What are they suffering from?

Dr. Henderson
hasn't determined that yet.

Perhaps it's some sort
of foreign disease,

something they contracted
in Africa.

Pardon me, Detective?

Major, I've seen
photographic proof

that Matthew Larson and other
soldiers under your command

spent time in Africa.

Now, if you would prefer

that I discuss this
with Colonel Heywood...

He knows full well
my men were in Africa,

but I ask that you not speak
of this

to anyone
outside of the armory.

Those details are restricted.

Your men were
on training maneuvers in Africa?

Four months ago,

in February,

for a three-week period
in the Transvaal region.

Political powder keg.

From what I understand,
another potential Boer war.

I hope not.

But as I said,

my squad were there
for training purposes,

and, with the exception
of Mr. Larson,

my team performed
remarkably well.

Well, again, I ask you, sir,
what are they suffering from?

African trypanosomiasis.

I'm sorry.
Could you repeat that?

African trypanosomiasis or,

to the common man,
sleeping sickness.

There was an outbreak
in the Congo

about two years ago.

Since then, thousands have died
throughout the dark continent.

The disease is spread
by the bite of the tsetse fly.

And what are the chances
of several soldiers

in the same squad
getting this disease?

Very good, actually,

if they were all in Africa.

Is that everything?

No, Doctor,
might you enlighten me

with the common symptoms
of this sleeping sickness?

Fever, headache, death.

Now, that's a symptom
you don't want to ignore.

Thank you, Doctor.

Oh, pleasure.

Oh, just a second, Murdoch.

Let's have a look.

Thrombophlebitis.
Torticollis.

Trypanosomiasis, here we are.
African.

"Symptoms are
swollen lymph nodes,

"joint pain, itchiness,
confusion.

"If left untreated,

neurological damage,
dementia, and death."

Let's not forget about death.

Yes, death.

Nothing about crazed aggression,
facial lesions?

No.
Nothing about that.

Wait a minute.

When did you say these men

returned
from their African campaign?

Several months ago.

But the entire life cycle
of this disease is three weeks.

Well, then it's impossible
the soldiers I saw

are afflicted
with this particular disease.

Something else
must be at play.

You know, it's just stunning,
this detecting mind of yours.

Sir?

What the hell do you want?

Sir, we have a problem
at the Larson residence.

What the bloody hell
is this all about?

Inspector Brackenreid,
Colonel Heywood.

I'm posting these men
with orders

to place Matthew Larson
under military arrest on sight.

Are you, now, Colonel?
Funny, that.

Because wherever
Mr. Larson is captured,

he's to be taken
into the custody

of the Toronto Constabulary.

Under the terms
of confederation,

the Canadian military has
the right to assume control of--

You're not listening to me,
sunshine.

The second you step
out of the armory,

you lose
all jurisdictional control.

And I'll read you
the Federal Militia Act

if I bloody well have to.

I don't want anyone
lurking around here

waiting to shoot my son.

That's not going to happen,
Mr. Larson.

Gentlemen,
may I suggest a compromise?

Constable Higgins
will remain here,

as well as one
of your soldiers:

equal representation
for both sides.

Best accept it, Colonel.

I'd rather not arrest you

for obstructing
a police investigation.

You're to report in
each hour.

And you, Higgins,
every half hour.

Excuse me, Inspector.

Wesley?

Right, fun's over.
What's next?

Sir, I'm going
to return to the infirmary.

Either Dr. Henderson
has misdiagnosed

what's ailing these men,

or there's a concerted effort
to keep us from the truth.

Very good, Murdoch.

I think it's time
you considered

wearing spectacles,
Detective.

Forgive me
for the intrusion, Doctor.

I'm merely checking in

on the condition
of your patients.

They're under quarantine.
You'll have to leave.

They have
an infectious disease.

Then perhaps
you should consider

wearing a mask,
Dr. Henderson.

Sorry to disturb you, soldier.

I wonder if I could
ask you a few questions.

Yeah.

Why has Matthew Larson
turned against your unit?

Can you tell me
why he was discharged?

Larson discharged himself.

He wasn't up for it.
He couldn't cope.

Does it have to do
with the training in Africa?

Yeah.

What happened in Africa?

Detective Murdoch.

You'll leave
the premises immediately

of your own accord
or by force.

Thank you for your time,
Corporal.

I hope you have
a speedy recovery.

I completed
a postmortem analysis

of all three soldiers.

Curiously, each of them
suffered kidney damage,

but I've been unable
to find a cause.

It's not like anything
I've seen before.

And we know
they weren't suffering

from sleeping sickness.

And the same can be said
for the soldiers

in the armory's infirmary.

Well, but they could be ill

with some unknown
infectious disease.

You could have raised
that point earlier, Doctor.

Yes, I suppose I could have.

Now, you might want to take note
of Corporal Young here.

Now, I'd assumed his injuries
were from a beating,

but if I just
peel this back here,

you can see
that a portion of his liver

has been compressed
through the upper ribs.

Now, that is consistent
with a fall from some height.

A fall?

Yes, I'm all but certain
that's what I just said.

This is where Corporal Young's
body was found.

The impact was on the front
right side of his body,

meaning he fell forward from...

Sir, it looks
like Corporal Young

had something
of a sniper's nest made up.

I wonder
what he was hoping to shoot.

George,

I believe Corporal Larson
was not the hunter

but the hunted.

I don't know about that, sir.
We have three dead soldiers.

Yes, but perhaps
he knew they were tracking him

and got to them first.

You think they were trying
to kill one of their own?

Why would they do that?
And why would Young set up here?

How would he know that Larson

would be anywhere
near this area of town?

I don't know, George.

Obviously forced entry, sir.

Larson, perhaps?

Shh.

Dr. Henderson.

Good afternoon.

I'd say it's time
you answered a few questions.

Dr. Henderson,

what's the purpose
of this laboratory?

I use it to store supplies
and run medical tests.

There's no room for a proper
laboratory at the armory.

Proper, Doctor?

This place seems to be
in shambles.

Uh, yes.

I was just straightening up

so I could resume
my attempt to find a cure

for whatever disease
is afflicting our soldiers.

But you've already
diagnosed it

as sleeping sickness.

That was
a preliminary diagnosis.

I want to be sure.

Doctor, we both know

that none of what you're
telling me is true.

Believe what you like,
Detective.

Matthew Larson
broke in here yesterday

and caused all of this mess,
didn't he?

Now, what was he looking for?

I heard you told the major
Larson is very ill.

Larson knows where my laboratory
is located,

so I assume he was looking
for a cure for his illness,

whatever that may be.

If I may say, sir,
it seemed that you were

in quite a hurry
to pack up the place just now.

Am I free to go?

You, sir, are free to come
down to the station house

for further questioning.

He seems to be creating
some sort of medicinal compound.

It's just...

there's something so familiar
about these materials,

you know, the diluted acid,
synthesized alkaloids,

and this dried ephedra plant.

Ephedra. Ephedra.

Ephedra.

Ephedrine?

I read an article about
a Japanese chemist in Tokyo.

- Nagayoshi Nagai?
- Yes.

Well, in 1893,

he used the ephedra plant
to produce ephedrine.

He synthesized that into
what he dubbed methamphetamine.

"It's a potent stimulant,

"heightening alertness, energy,
and aggression.

"Noted side effects
are memory loss, seizures...

and kidney damage."

And would you say that
if taken in high enough doses,

this methamphetamine
could cause

deranged behavior
and skin lesions?

Deranged behavior, certainly.

Although, you know, I've heard
that laboratory animals

given long-term doses
of stimulants

do begin to pick and tear
at their skin.

And were the skin tears
to become infected,

they would have the appearance
of sores and lesions.

I believe we're on

to Dr. Henderson's
dirty little deeds.

Yes, each soldier
under Major Cole's command

was injected
with methamphetamine.

I prescribed
a conservative daily dosage,

which proved quite successful.

Alertness and stamina
increased dramatically.

Until you discovered
the side effects.

Is that correct?

I'll confess the drug
creates strong dependency.

Which would explain
why Matthew Larson

broke into your laboratory.

He was desperate
for more methamphetamine.

There wasn't much there,
but he did find some.

Detective, believe me.

Once I established Mr. Larson

was acting negatively
to his treatment,

the military acted responsibly
and terminated the project.

Who gave that order?

Major Cole.

So the soldiers
in your infirmary

aren't suffering
from some infectious disease.

They're going
through withdrawal.

Psychomotor stimulant
withdrawal, to be precise.

Yes, let's be precise.

Just when did you begin
to administer methamphetamine?

Was it before or after Africa?

I'm not at liberty
to discuss that.

It doesn't make sense to me.

Why give soldiers drugs

and risk impairing
their judgment?

My time in Afghanistan
taught me that fighting spirit

was near
the bottom of the bottle.

Alcohol could ease
the anxiety

of charging
into a hail of bullets,

but it would be far better
to heighten senses,

not dampen them.

Methamphetamine
could be very beneficial

on the battlefield.

Depending on the battle,

a touch of memory loss
might not hurt either.

Yes, well, use of the drug

could play a major role
in the future of warfare,

for better or for worse.

Nevertheless,
I want this Major Cole

brought in to explain himself.

Of course, sir.

And what about our fugitive,
Mr. Larson?

Running around somewhere
mad on methamphetamine.

Anyone who comes near him
could be his next victim.

I don't think so, sir.

Larson could have killed me,
but he stopped himself.

And though I believe
the use of methamphetamine

resulted in
the highly aggressive murders,

I don't think
that's the whole story.

How so?

George,
go to the library archives

and research any articles
written on South Africa,

British and Canadian newspapers,

written in the last
five months or so.

Yes, sir.

What are you thinking,
Murdoch?

Well, sir,
the men in Major Cole's squad

pursued Larson
with murderous intent,

I believe, as a result

of something
that happened in Africa,

something that caused his
comrades to turn against him.

And before I meet
with Major Cole again,

I want to know what that was.

"British families
slaughtered in Carletonville."

"In the dead of night,
Boer militia

"set the houses aflame
and shot down anyone

"who tried to escape
the inferno.

"No one was spared,
including women and children."

Well, sir, listen to this.

"A Boer militia camp

"was wiped out with what's been
described as military precision.

"British High Command denies
any of their combat troops

were within 200 miles
of the incident."

George, that's five days
after the British families

were slaughtered
in Carletonville.

Unofficial retaliation,
perhaps?

Major Cole's squad.

That's possible, George.
They were training in the area.

And these killings
are also exceptionally brutal.

What is it now, Detective?

Major Cole, why did you
not discharge Corporal Larson

sooner than you did?

Clearly he wasn't coping

with his dosage
of methamphetamine.

Oh, yes,
I know about the drug.

Well, Corporal Larson
became a liability.

And perhaps I'll have to accept

the theoretical responsibility
for that.

However, all military trials
with methamphetamine

have been canceled.

Major, am I to assume

that your experiments
with these drugs

are news to Colonel Heywood?

No, Detective.

The Canadian military
is in full support

of our British joint operations.

Hmm.

So you're aware
that Corporal Larson's

dependency on methamphetamine
is directly related

to the training missions
in South Africa.

Detective Murdoch,
you are reaching.

And this is why your men
were on methamphetamine:

inciting them to savagely kill
Boer militia without question.

Yes, it's true your men

were on a training mission
in South Africa.

But you took advantage
of the opportunity

to launch an attack
on Boer militia at Krugersdorp.

Such is war.

But we're not at war
in South Africa.

Don't be naive.

You don't need
an official declaration of war

to be engaged in one.

The Dutch
provoked all of this.

So you admit
that the massacre at Krugersdorp

was retaliation
for the events at Carletonville.

Well, what would you
have us do, hmm,

stand idle
while British innocents

are senselessly murdered

and have no response?

I'm done here,
Detective Murdoch.

Matters of the nation
and the Crown are beyond you.

Sir, I think
we have a situation.

Higgins just telephoned
from the Larson residence.

And he--at least,
I think it was Higgins.

- Clarify yourself, George.
- Sorry.

He only spoke a few words,
but he said something

about, "He's here,"
and then the line went dead.

I called back several times.

Come.

Constable Higgins.

George.

Higgins,
what happened?

I was hit from behind.

I heard Larson upstairs.

Detective!
Detective.

Matthew came home.

He charged
through the front door there

and struck these two poor men.

Then he just ran off.

Mr. Larson,
these men were hit from behind,

taken by surprise,

I suspect by you.

And I think I know why.

Matthew was here
this afternoon

when we were all here,
wasn't he?

Please, Detective,
just leave him be.

- I beg you.
- Step inside, Mr. Larson.

Please, just--
just leave him be.

The fire.

They were burning,

screaming.

Calm, gentlemen.
We have him.

Our guard failed to report in,
and now I see why.

Stand aside, Detective.

We're taking Larson
into custody.

I won't allow that,
Colonel,

especially now that I know
the full extent

of Major Cole's tactics.

There are children...

burning.

Stand aside, Murdoch.

Not only are you guilty
of the killings in Krugersdorp,

but you ordered your squad
to kill innocent British men,

women, and children
in Carletonville.

- I said move!
- Major.

You sacrificed
innocent women and children

to bring on war,
to give the British

license to attack
the Boers.

Surely you must be mistaken.

Corporal Larson,

what happened in Africa?

We killed our own.

Is this true, Major?

What did you tell the men?

Did they know they were
murdering British civilians?

Did you tell them?

Yes, I told them

but only after my orders
were carried out.

Which is why your men
obeyed your orders

to hunt down Mr. Larson.

You and your squad couldn't risk
Larson exposing the truth

about your mission in Africa.

Those were once my men,

good soldiers.

You've turned them
into murderers.

Colonel Heywood, please.

You colonials,

you don't understand what
it takes to preserve an empire.

The privileged lives
you all lead,

they don't come without cost

or sacrifice.

Damn your blood.

Colonel, no.

No.

Major Cole will face justice
in a military court

in front of his peers
with you as a witness.

Sir, according to the doctors
at Toronto General Hospital,

Major Cole will survive.

A telegram

from the British
Secretary of State for War,

claiming that Major Cole
and his squad had gone rogue

and that the Brits deny
any involvement

in these unfortunate affairs.

Surely they don't expect us
to believe that.

It's all bollocks.

That bastard Cole
will merely slink off

with a dishonorable discharge

and probably a pension
to go with it.

You know what happened to me

the first time I saw combat,
Murdoch?

I fired over the heads
of the enemy.

I couldn't bring myself
to shoot another man.

Mind you, the first shots
that whistled past my ears,

I tightened up my aim
considerably.

Forcing men to kill,

that's the military's
biggest battle.

No doubt Major Cole
was aware of that.

He knew that his untested men

would hesitate
at killing in cold blood.

Methamphetamine
helped them overcome that.

At the cost
of losing their faculties.

When it became obvious

that Corporal Larson couldn't
cope with what he'd done,

Major Cole panicked

and increased his dose
of methamphetamine.

But it turned him
into a madman,

a dangerous liability.

What's the prognosis
for Larson?

He's been placed
in permanent care.

But I'm told the brain damage
is too far along.

Thankfully, the program that
made him this way is no longer.

Don't kid yourself, Murdoch.

A second Boer war
is on the horizon.

It's too profitable to avoid.

And the Canadian military
will do anything

to prove their mettle
alongside the Brits.

Another Cole will be along
to restart the program.

Perhaps so, sir.

And what will become
of Corporal Larson's father?

The old man took revenge
for what they did to his son.

If I was a judge,
I'd be thanking him.

But come the trial,

he just might be in need
of a helpful witness.

Yes, sir.
He might be, at that.