Original subtitles

Adidja!

Be careful!

King of the castle.

What did you say?

I don't know what you're trying to prove.

I want to look down and see the whole world!

Adidja!

Did you see the whole world?

What did it look like?

You wouldn't believe me if I told you.

Oh, shit.

Change in the weather over the last few days,

with a warning of more snow to come.

Unfortunately, it's going to stay bitterly cold,

with temperatures dropping a few degrees

below the average for this time of year...

What are you doing?

Men who watch women sleeping are creepy.

Yeah, I don't disagree with that.

But it depends on what they're doing

while they're watching.

Bit early for that sort of chat, is it?

Get off... no, don't! Ugh, morning breath, yuck, gross.

Come here.

Ah. Touché.

Happy tenth anniversary.

What?

- Come on. - No.

You know it is. You know it.

I do.

Oh, shit, is that the time?

Yes, why? The clocks went forward.

What? Why didn't you tell me the clocks

- have been moved forward? - What do you mean?

- Oh... - My flight, my flight!

But where am I supposed to stop?

Literally anywhere but where you just tried.

Well, you can drive yourself next time.

And where's the fun in that?

You're a twat.

You say the nicest things.

- Ow! God... - Sorry.

I don't know why you wear that bloody thing on your head.

You were only in that band about a month.

Yeah, but what a month.

It wasunforgettable.

Not in a good way.

Yeah, let me try again. That was a terrible good-bye.

Okay, well, hurry up, Bono, there's people waiting to park.

You'll be all right, won't you?

- Yeah, I'll be fine. - Mm.

Don't have to worry about me every time.

All right.

Time heals everything, right?

Yeah.

-Go on. All right... you're gonna be late. -Okay.

Oh, come on.

Hey.

Hi. Miss me already?

I left you something in the glove compartment.

- Did you? - I did.

Do you ever think it's weird that when they designed cars,

they felt they need to create a whole compartment

- just for gloves? - Did you leave me gloves?

Maybe.

Happy anniversary.

- I love you. - I love you.

The stitches should be taken out in about a week.

Must be someone who can come and get you.

You really shouldn't walk home on this.

I'll be fine, honestly.

Here for the weekend, are you?

No, actually, I live here.

You can tell from my accent.

- I'm over near Pen-Llyn. - Oh.

Long way out, then.

Living the good life, eh?

Yeah, something like that.

Dozens of protesters have been arrested...

- Uh, Ms. Wells? - Yeah.

Uh, you didn't complete the form.

- Oh, sorry. - It's all right.

Uh, just there, there and there.

Thanks.

Are unlikely to cease.

The scenes this afternoon in Kinshasa's financial district

were ones of chaos and confusion.

The Democratic Republic of Congo has seen its fair share

of political unrest in recent years, and the armed forces...

Did... Sorry, excuse me, could-can you wind this back?

-I'm sorry? -Do you have a remote? Can you stop it?

I think so. Um, hang on.

Just let me find it.

And opposition supporters.

This afternoon, however, the armed forces

are just trying to restore order...

Sorry for the radio silence.

Signal's a nightmare out here.

At least you had peace and quiet for a week.

- No rugby on TV. - Yeah.

Counting my blessings.

What are you doing?

U-Uh, just, um...

went for a run.

- Hmm. - You at the airport?

Goma. Redefining the term "shithole" since 2002.

I've got a couple of hours before my flight to Kinshasa.

Oh, well, you can hit the shops.

"Shop," singular. Oh, shit.

Thank you.

How's that ring feeling?

- Did I get the right size? - Yeah.

It's beautiful, it really is.

I don't know.

If you don't, if you don't like it,

- I don't mind. - Oh, it's-it's not the crap one

you proposed with.

The crap one?

I'm sentimental. I don't know.

Will you text me from Kinshasa?

No, no, no, you'll be asleep.

I'll call you when I get back to the U.K.

- All right. I love you. - You, too.

Georgia, it's Judith Gray.

Judith? What's going on?

Y-You haven't heard? - Heard what?

It's Will. Christ.

I-It's Will's plane.

It's all over the news here.

They haven't released an official statement yet.

I've been trying to call the airlines, but...

Oh, I am so sorry, Georgia.

Will's flight, i-it's gone missing.

- I'm-I'm so sorry... - No, no, no.

- Georgia... - No, no...

on the ground still.

Weather on Sankuru Airways Flight 19's journey

from Goma to Kinshasa would have seen high winds

and possible storms, though again,

there's been no official statement from Sankuru Airways

or the ANAC, the Congolese...

Okay, just tell me when to stop.

There. Stop it there.

It's you.

Could you please open your eyes wide?

So how did you lose your sight, Mr. Helgason?

An accident.

Long time ago, now.

Uh, coming up on the chair here.

Yeah.

- All right? - Yeah, thanks.

- Okay. - Thank you.

So, what's the verdict?

- Still blind? - Well, there's...

nothing I see at present, Mr. Helgason,

that would prevent you being a candidate

- for the clinical trial. - I haven't wasted my journey.

You will need

to take these drops, two in the morning,

two in the evening.

These ensure you won't get an infection

prior to the procedure.

"Procedure."

Such a clinical word for a miracle.

"The blind receive sight, the lame will walk,

and those with leprosy will be cured."

No miracles here, Mr. Helgason,

just science.

Mathilde, could you call this man a taxi, please?

Of course.

How was it?

Um, sorry? Um, I don't, I don't speak Dutch.

I'm not from here. I'm a visitor.

Me, too. I'm English.

You here for the surgery, too?

Yes, I am.

- I'm Beatrix. - Ariel.

Like The Tempest.

If I was Prospero's eyes and ears,

uh, I wouldn't be much use to him, would I?

What's your accent?

- Icelandic. - You've come a long way.

Yes, I have.

But it's worth it for a miracle, I think.

So did you qualify?

I find out in two days, he says.

Well, hopefully, we'll both be lucky.

Did anyone come with you?

No, it's-it's just me.

My friend was going to come, but life gets in the way,

you know?

Since we're both on our own,

perhaps we could have a drink?

I-I could wait. You know, but-but if it...

Sounds perfect.

Coolio. Great.

Georgia.

It's good to see you.

I got in as close as we could.

Any closer and it just becomes a horrible mess.

It could be anyone.

But he was wearing an orange cap the day he left.

We just need to find a different angle, then you'll see.

The camera crew didn't have another angle.

That's all we have.

So, how are things out there

in the middle of nowhere?

Quiet.

I'm sorry I never went there.

Your father did ask me enough times.

I need your help, Martin.

No one's gonna listen to me.

They'll listen to you.

Did he ever tell you about Indonesia?

I didn't come here to talk about Dad.

No, I know.

His first patrol, his helicopter went down.

He was the only one to walk out alive.

20 years later, he was still having nightmares.

These things follow us, Georgia.

Clinging on to them is no good for you.

How would you know what's good for me?

I know you're still angry about what happened,

but you mustn't think I don't care about you.

Well, you've had an odd way of showing it.

Now, there are other ways.

My life now, you wouldn't recognize me.

I see friends,

have lunch, play boules.

I'm the one people are supposed to be worried about?

Bloody hay fever.

It isn't him. It can't be. He died on that plane.

He was checked in,

-counted on. -They never found his body, ever.

Well, him and a lot of other people.

You have to think about yourself.

- I am. This is what I'm doing. - No, you're not.

You're trying to climb K2 in a thunderstorm

because that's who you are.

You don't really play boules, do you?

People change.

No. Not as much

as you'd like to think.

Georgia, you really need to forget about all of this.

I should never have come here asking for help from you.

- Georgia! - This was a mistake. Forget it.

Georgia, where are you going?

- Miss Wells? - Yeah.

- Come-come this way. - Has there been any news?

Is the plane still missing?

I've been trying to get online since I landed.

My English is not good. Please.

This is Judith. Leave a message.

Judith, I've just landed. I can't get online here.

No one's told me anything. If you've got any news, call me.

- Miss? - Oh, Christ.

- Miss, are you okay? - It crashed?

They found the wreckage an hour ago.

My brother was on the plane.

My husband.

I can't look anymore.

- What's he saying? - I don't know.

He is the minister for transport.

He says...

all emergency services are at the wreck site.

The plane crashed in the jungle,

so progress is slow.

They have started searching

for survivors.

None so far.

No information yet on the cause.

This is a terrible disaster

made worse...

- Pathetic. - What?

There was a politician on the plane,

Dikembe Rahema, a bitter rival to this government.

Yet he talks about him as if he was a saint.

Campaigning for reelection

while my wife is...

My wife was on that plane!

We've had enough!

Emmanuel Kazadi.

Hennie Botha.

But he talked about survivors. How could anybody

survive that?

Luggage.

I help.

No, no, no. It's okay.

- This way, we go this way. - I'm okay.

- This way. - No.

We go this way.

One dollar only.

Wait!

Oh, fuck.

- Hey. - Hi.

I thought I told you not to bother meeting me.

And I ignored you.

Where's the rest of your luggage?

Did some parasite

offer to help with the bag? Huh?

I... Look, it doesn't matter.

Really.

Okay. This way.

Thanks for coming.

- It's good to see you, Emmanuel. - And you.

It's been a long time.

So, show me.

If it is your husband, why now?

After all this time?

I mean, that's what I'm here to find out.

The paper I worked for refused to cover this,

but many other journalists

covered the riots.

How many other pictures were taken?

Hmm? I could make some calls.

Yes. Yes, thank you.

Do you think I'm crazy?

I think... you miss your husband.

And I know all too well how that feels.

I'm... sorry I didn't make it.

Not at all.

It was so nice of you to invite me.

It just... it would have been...

You know.

How was it?

Like any wedding. Expensive.

She looked beautiful in the pictures you sent me.

Yeah, she is.

I'm happy for you.

Call me if I can help

or look through any of the photos you find.

Of course.

Good luck.

I'll call you later.

Judith, hi.

Hello, Georgia.

- How was your journey? - Yeah, fine.

I wish you'd let me come get you.

No, it was okay. A-A friend dropped me off.

You've done more than enough

offering to let me stay here, so...

Well, I really didn't give you much choice, did I?

Please, come on in.

Uh, I hope this is all right.

Oh, it's great. Thank you.

Sorry, there's a bit of a crisis at work.

Can I leave you to get settled? I'll be back soon.

Salop!

Salop!

Salop!

You think that's going to scare me?

Are you going to leave us alone?

Bastard!

You did this, Emmanuel.

You did this.

- Salut. - Hey, Judith.

- Salut. - Salut.

Salut. Tout le monde.

You got a minute?

- Of course. Come on in. - The supply line

to North Kivu's not improved,

so the convoy's still stuck, and I've spend most of the day

fielding calls from the Ituri provincial governor.

What, you think his people can't get clean water

unless we plough through miles of red tape?

That's about the size of it.

I'll call him, see if we can't break the deadlock.

That'd be great.

How's your guest?

Well, she's convinced that Will is somehow still alive.

Well, that doesn't make any sense.

She thinks this boy faked his death? Why?

I guess he did have reason to disappear.

Which Georgia doesn't know about.

Mm.

I need five more.

I want to see flesh on their bones.

What is this?

Recruitment.

Look at me.

Don't look.

I don't know.

Uh, the worst public transport?

Did you ever sit in somebody's lap?

Once or twice.

See, for me that's...

I-I think that's once or twice too many.

Oh, dear. Uh...

So, how did you end up here?

My dad's work.

We came when I was 15,

and we never left.

I like it, though.

I like standing out on the bridge

when it's raining, and listening to the ships coming in.

The sound really skids over the water.

And I like the way it smells.

I'm sorry, the way it sm... What?

Wh-What does it smell like?

Industrial. I love it.

Wow.

See, I-I haven't learned to appreciate my other senses.

Not so long ago, I could see.

Yeah, I've been blind since I was 14.

I don't even dream in pictures anymore.

What happened to you, if you don't mind me asking?

It was an accident.

What sort of accident?

Uh...

Oh...

I'm sorry, it's-it's hard to talk about it.

No, I'm sorry, you don't have to say anything.

- It was a plane crash. - What?

In the Democratic Republic of Congo, nearly three years ago.

You survived a plane crash?

Yes. I was the only one.

The only survivor?

That, um... That sounds...

That sounds terrible. I'm sorry.

I-I... But I could have... I could have lost much more.

I know that.

Many others did. Much more.

Much more.

People don't just walk away from a plane crash.

They don't just fall out of the sky,

walk away, carry on with their lives

- and not tell anyone. - I know that.

You know, I read an article about this place

in Northern Bosnia, and it stuck with me.

A section of a tree branch was cut down,

and it looked like the face of Jesus.

So pilgrims started to flock there.

They lit candles, knelt in front of it, prayed.

Put money down.

They even started to take sections of the bloody bark.

People see shapes in things

because they want more than anything to see them.

But at the end of the day, a tree is sometimes just a tree.

This is different.

You know, from the very first day

Will came to work for me,

it felt like I'd known him for years.

He just had that, didn't he? That gift.

I miss him, too, Georgia.

But you have to realize...

there's absolutely no way that he... Sorry. Hello?

- Is Georgia there? - Yes.

It's for you.

Emmanuel, what is it?

I found something you need to see.

What the hell happened there?

When you live here, you come

to accept these things as part of life.

Come in.

What? What is it?

I-I talked to every news photographer I could.

I searched on social media... nothing.

No photos that helped.

Okay. I hope you didn't drag me

all the way here to tell me that.

Then I saw a store

the other side of the main square

with their own CCTV, and, uh...

It's better to just show you.

Is it him?

Is it Will?

This angle still doesn't show his face.

But as you can see,

there's someone with him.

Hennie Botha.

They say never to drink to drown your sorrows.

Sorrow can swim.

Depends how much it drinks, doesn't it?

We'll get through this

one way or another.

What other choice is there?

Mr. Tequila.

Usual?

Not today.

If you change your mind...

I talked with my wife right before she flew.

She called me when I was working, so...

It was the last time I spoke to her, and I...

I barely listened.

We were going to have a... a little girl.

Jesus.

She was due in just a few months.

Was she visiting family out there?

No. Uh, just business.

All I think now is I-I wish I asked her not to go.

I wish... I wish I asked her to stay with me.

What? What is it?

They are saying they have reports of-of a survivor.

This can't be a coincidence.

It has to be Will. I mean, it proves it.

Doesn't it?

- There is more. - What?

Look.

Oh, my God, he has a gun.

Jesus, Will.

What happened to you?

We need a break.

No. No, I can't... It's too addictive.

Scrolling down, thinking the next page is gonna be the one

that I've been looking for. I'm gonna strike gold.

It reminds me of waiting for the bus home from school.

Staring at the horizon, thinking,

"Any second, it's gonna roll into view."

- An eternal optimist. - Well, yeah,

the eternal optimist who had 15 quid and her fake ID stolen

'cause she was too busy looking the other way.

Wait, that can't be right.

What?

Well, Hennie said his brother died on that plane.

His name was Johannes Botha.

- He's not on the passenger list. - What?

This is the appendix for the Sankuru crash report, it... look:

the names of every single person who was on that plane,

and there-there's nobody called Johannes Botha.

There's not even anyone of South African nationality on here.

Oh, man.

T-That's why we can't find anything on Hennie Botha.

Yeah, because maybe it's not his real name.

If he had no one on the flight, then why was he there?

Well, I think we need to find the bastard and ask him.

How?

You know, when we were in the airport bar,

the, um, the barman called Hennie something,

like a-a nickname. Do you remember?

- Tequila. Mr. Tequila. - Bingo.

We need to find the barman.

My love!

This is Georgia.

Georgia, this is my wife Ivette.

- Nice to meet you. - And you.

Are you leaving already?

We made some progress on the investigation.

Finding her husband?

Really?

Really nice to meet you.

And you, Georgia.

I've heard so much about you.

See you later.

Hi. Do you speak English?

I do.

There was a barman working here three years ago.

He had different-colored eyes, I think.

Ah, you're looking for Mboyo Lipasa.

He's no longer working here, I'm afraid.

He turned to drink.

Last I heard, he lost his home.

He's living in le bidonville.

Okay.

What? What's le bidonville?

The slum of Kingabwa, out near the Congo riverbank.

We can go, but it could be dangerous.

It's all we've got. We have to try.

Okay, okay.

- I will collect you in the morning.

I appreciate it.

They say hope is to be able to see the light

in spite of all the darkness.

If it was Gaelle on that footage...

How'd it go?

Any luck?

Uh, we'll see.

You were gone a long time.

Yeah, we had a lot to catch up on.

There's some spare clothes in the wardrobe, if you'd like.

Let me help you.

Want some breakfast?

Who was that?

None of our business.

Emmanuel, what did she say?

She knows where Mboyo lives.

Really?

That one? Okay.

Thank you.

Mboyo Lipasa?

Enter.

Mboyo Lipasa?

- Yeah. What do you want? - Sorry, do you speak English?

That depends on what you want to ask me.

You used to work at a place called Bar Eden.

Oh, a lifetime ago, for my many sins.

You were working there

the morning Sankuru Flight 19 went down.

You served me and my friend here and-and another man.

You-you called him Mr. Tequila, as if you knew him?

Do you recognize him?

Yeah, Mr. Tequila!

He was in and out of the bar almost all the time.

Mm. And always tequila.

Last thing at night or first thing in the morning... tequila.

Like it was water.

What can you tell us about him?

Do you know his real name?

He told us his name was Hennie Botha.

Does that mean anything to you?

You like my clothes?

Uh... sure.

I'm a sapeur, you see.

You've seen others like me?

Um, I-I... I think I have, but wh-what does that have to do...?

We believe there is no price on self-esteem.

I choose to wear my pride.

To express myself in this way...

It comes at a price, you understand?

Oh.

Hey.

Pieter. His name was Pieter Bello.

Pieter Bello. This man? Are you sure?

I heard him use it on the phone once or twice.

Once or twice?

How is it that you still remember his name

after all these years?

There are some people, you know they are no good.

Their soul is rotten.

I knew it the first time I set eyes on him.

I would watch him. Waiting.

Expecting to see trouble follow him.

So when I heard his name, it stuck in my mind like glue.

And was he? Wa-Was he ever any trouble?

Not with me.

But, ma'am, we can never hide who we are.

You a religious man, Djamba?

Nah, neither am I.

Sometimes I wish I was.

You can't be, I suppose,

doing the things that you do.

I do what I have to.

Do you?

I've always lived with the belief

that no one hasto do anything.

Too many pills to take.

Which one, what time. I need reminders.

Should have chosen a different bladdy sound.

Every time I hear a cockerel, I reach into my pocket,

wondering which one I should take.

Pieter Bello, did you come here to talk?

No. Forgive me.

No, I didn't.

There will be more bags like that...

if this works out.

How are we gonna find Pieter Bello?

He's from South Africa, so we start from there.

I have a contact in Johannesburg that...

- What is it? - Nothing.

Oh, good, you're here.

- Judith, this is Emmanuel. - Hi.

Nice to meet you. Um, I got a call from my neighbor.

Somebody delivered this car for you.

They insisted I come back from work to sign for it.

I didn't rent a car. I'd have told you.

Well, paperwork's in your name, so somebody did.