All language subtitles for 08_tw

Jenny, there you are.

How is she doing?

I don't know.

I'm not sure
what state she's in.

She rang to say
she was ready to go home.

She has to connect
through here in Kinshasa

so when I pick her up, I guess
I'll find out a bit more.

- Just come home safe.
- Yeah, I will.

Yeah. Bye.

Here.

Was he always a liar
or am I just-just stupid?

No, not stupid, just in love.

I'm not sure
there's much of a difference.

People change.

Not as much
as I'd like to think.

Right?

At least you know the truth now.

You know
the cowardly little shit

has been holed up in Rwanda.

Oh, maybe I was better off
not knowing.

And live with the uncertainty?
I don't think so.

It doesn't mean that the life
you had together wasn't real

and it doesn't mean
that he didn't love you... once.

But what he did is...

Makes all that irrelevant.

I mean, it's...

- All that time, just...
- Georgia. Georgia.

- Wasted.
- Hey.

Come on.

Did you find Adidja?

No.

I'm sorry.

There must be something
we can do.

I tried, Georgia,
I really tried.

And if you found her,
what would you do? Hmm?

What is it?

Hello?

So you're still

hanging on to Pieter's phone.

What the hell?

I got the message you left me.

S-Sounds like
you have questions.

Yeah, I do have a question.

I... How the fuck
are you still alive?

Well, let's talk in person.

No. N-No, you know,
I've had enough.

I'm going home.

You and Will and the general
can all just rot together.

I, uh...

I met your friend Adidja.

In fact, uh...
she's with me right now.

Tell me where.

Hiya, sorry to bother.

We haven't met. Owen.

- Hughes.
- Uh... Georgia.

I was wondering
if you'd seen Nigel.

A black and white sheepdog.

She got a-a white patch
on her nose.

"She"?

Yeah. Uh, when we had her,
we-we thought she was a boy,

- so we, we called her Nigel.
- Oh.

By the time she was giving
birth on the kitchen floor,

it was a bit late
to change her name.

Well, um, no.
I'm sorry. I-I haven't seen her.

- Sorry to have bothered you.
- Yeah, no worries.

Sorry.

Nigel!

Nigel!

Any suggestions?

Which way to go first?
I mean,

I don't get over this way
much, to be honest.

Um...

Hang on a second.

Did I mention
this is a terrible idea?

I don't know what to say.

Adidja needs my help.

Georgia, I'll be here.

For all the good it'll do you.

Thanks.

Where is she?

Dispensed with pleasantries
already, have we?

I asked you a question.

Don't worry, she's safe.

First, I'd like to know
where Will is.

I don't know where he is.

I'm just here
to get Adidja back.

How'd you meet?

You and the girl?

Of course.

I can guess.
I've seen too many of them.

Children grown up too fast,

fighting wars they have
no understanding of.

They get this...

this look in their eyes.

You talk an awful lot
for a dead woman.

When you don't know
who's after you,

it's common sense to lie low.

Your husband, of all people...

gave me that idea.

So what, you just walked out
of there, half dead?

General Azikiwe, he ensured

that the doctors
reported me as deceased.

And where is he now?

The general?

I didn't tell him
I was meeting you.

It's best that way.

He can be... unpredictable.

"Unpredictable"?
He's a fucking murderer, Judith.

You're no better.

You knew that plane
was going down.

You bought Will the ticket
to get on the flight.

So you did find him.

He's no threat to you, Judith.

You'll understand if I don't
just take your word for it.

What happened to you?

Did you just...
Did you come out to the Congo

to do something good
and then, what?

Something went wrong?

Or have you always been greedy
and ruthless?

I'm transforming
this bloody place.

My charity.

We don't just...
slap on a Band-Aid.

We work to fix the system,
the politicians,

the businessmen;
we're a long-term solution.

Yeah, because you like
to look virtuous,

you like the shine.

Appearance doesn't always

reflect reality,
though, does it?

If I'd said no
to the offer, what,

you think somehow
the coltan trade in the East

would just... dry up?

You can tell yourself
it was for your charity

if it helps you sleep at night.

You were doing a bad thing
for the right reasons.

The truth is,
when Will caught you out,

you sent him to die.

Azikiwe found out
what he'd been up to

and he told me
to get Will on that flight

and that's all I knew.

God, you sound like Will.

"I didn't know."

Well, you didn't ask.

Because it was easier
to pretend.

You think by looking the other
way, pretending bad things

don't happen
somehow makes it okay?

If you stay quiet,
you're as bad as they are.

I don't have to justify
myself to you.

You can go screaming
to the world about me,

about Azikiwe,
but none of it will stick.

You have no proof.

You tell me where to find Will,

and I'll tell you where Adidja
is, and we're done.

You can go back home and you can
get on with your life.

Will lied to me.

He let me believe he was dead.

He found somebody else.
They have a baby.

That must have hurt.

You didn't have
to threaten a child.

I'd have told you
where Will was.

The fucker deserves
everything he gets.

Ah. Rwanda?

- Thank you.
- Where is Adidja?

- You'll find her here.
- Who's holding her?

Despite what you think
about me, Georgia...

I'm not a monster.

You'll understand if I don't
take your word for it.

Georgia.

I'm coming out.
I'll be with you in 30 seconds.

No, don't. Turn round,
go back the other way.

There are two men with guns
watching you. Turn round.

- I see them.
- Go, go.

Turn left
when you get to the end.

I'm heading towards you.

No.

There's got to be a way out
the back of this market.

Meet me there.

Where are you now?

Georgia? Georgia.

Bonjour, madame.

Are you okay?

- Yeah, just about.
- Yeah?

Don't say I told you so.

I wouldn't dream of it.

Well, that was clearly
a successful meeting.

Yeah.

Pouring drinks for a dead man?

Your mind is rotten.

You had me followed?

Excuse me?

There's talk about a white girl
being chased in the market.

How did they find her?

'Cause you had your men on me.

You don't fucking trust me.

You seem angry.

Yeah, no shit.

I had someone watch you,
for your own protection.

You're paranoid.
You don't trust anyone.

You wanted to check up on me.

And aren't I fortunate
that I did?

Or were you going to tell me?

I was handling it,
for Christ's sake.

And Georgia,
she has no proof of anything.

She saw me kill a man.

And so did her friend.

And you want her to walk free?

To tell the world?

I want you to trust me.

To tell me what's in your mind,
because we're in this together.

Is that what you think?

I think I asked you to do a job.

I am the one who makes
the difficult decisions

so you can turn your head.

Yes.

But Georgia told me
where Will is.

Tell me where.

Well, this is the address.

- Are you sure?
- Uh-huh.

It's Avenue de Kabambare, yeah?

Georgia, just a second.

Judith gave us this address.

How do we know it's safe?

We don't,
but I have to go inside.

Hi.

Where have you been?

I came back to find you.
There was a woman.

She said you would be here.

I know, she shouldn't have
done that. I'm so sorry.

- This is my home now, isn't it?
- No.

We can find a-a home
that's right for you.

I-I don't know anything
about this place.

But sooner or later,
you'll have to go home.

Oh, what's that?

I wanted to give you something.

It's not much.

No, it's beautiful. I love it.

Georgia.

Y-You should go.

Good-bye.

She'll be okay.

I know.

Nigel! Where the hell are we?

There are some crevices up here
I thought we should check,

in case she's fallen down,

especially with it snowing
up here this morning.

Oh, it's freezing up here,
but she's made it through worse.

- Let's check that cave.
- Yeah, that's where I'm heading.

Nigel!

- No?
- No.

So what brings you out
to these parts then?

You don't sound local.

Oh, the cabin was my dad's.

He bought it to be
a-a holiday home,

but he mainly was fixing it up
all the time.

Mr. Wells?

When I was a kid, I got stuck
outside your place in a storm.

This man took us in,
gave us a nice cup of tea.

Mr. Wells, his name was.

Surrounded with wood
and paint and chaos.

That's my dad.

You probably think I'm mad.
All this just for a dog.

No, I don't. I get it.

Anyway, best turn back.
We're gonna lose light soon.

No, we'll be good
for another hour or so.

Sure?

Yeah. I don't like giving up.

Okay.

Our flight's not for an hour,

so let's find somewhere
to wait, hmm?

But I don't think here
is a good idea.

I think it would be
safer inside.

No, this is, this is
where we came,

me and Pieter and Emmanuel.

Talk about coming
full bloody circle.

All those times I cried for him,
and for what?

Emmanuel's dead
and Pieter's dead,

and Will's off in his
new life in Rwanda.

And all those people
that died on that plane,

just so the general
could carry on getting rich.

It has to mean something,
doesn't it, Martin?

- What do you mean?
- Coming out here.

It has to mean something.

All those relatives
of everyone on Flight 19,

they deserve to know
what happened.

Listen, in case
you've forgotten,

someone tried to kill us
not so long ago.

But the man who brought
that plane down

cannot get away with it.

No. So, we go home,

I put you in touch with the
right people to talk to...

But we're here.
We-We-We're here now.

Yes, and what are we
going to do?

I don't know, but I never did
like giving up.

Georgia...

Hi.

So this man, Pieter Bello,

he is who killed my husband?

Yeah. He didn't want us
asking any more questions.

Once I ignored his note

telling me to go home,
we went and found

his ex-wife and his daughter,

and he sent somebody
to deal with us.

And Pieter Bello,
where is he now?

He's dead.

It's a lot.
I know it's a lot,

but if you look
in Gaelle's diary,

you'll see she was asked to
carry something onto that plane.

It was a bomb.

The people on that plane
were murdered.

Ivette, I promised you

that I would find out who killed
your husband, and I have,

but it means nothing
if the people responsible

aren't held accountable
for what they did.

Oh, oh, oh, you-you don't
understand, do you?

This is Congo.

The snakes in
our government bite

and then slither
back into the grass.

This country is broken,

and there isn't
any way to fix it.

It's a bucket with a hole in it.

Why you keep trying
to fill it with water?

Ivette, are you in touch
with any other relatives

who had loved ones
on Sankuru 19?

I am.

Emmanuel used to talk
with the relatives

through a phone group.

I started using it when he died.

We talk sometimes.

Can I send a message?

What is it you want?

- We need to get them a message.
- Why?

Because it's time this changed.

Perhaps it's someone else

come to stab you in the back.

Makes you wonder how
you will ever sleep again,

doesn't it?

Who's that?

Sir. You wanted
to be informed...

It's happening?

We have two men in Ruhengeri.

They're on their way to Will
Mason's house at this moment.

And if they're found...?

There's nothing that will link
them to us. They're freelancers.

Perfect.

Last thing I need is to start
another damn war.

Shh...

Shh...

Will Mason.

This is for you.

Will Mason.

Shh...

This is Judith Gray.

Please leave a message.

I'm still alive,
and I'm still here.

If you want to know why,
go to Azikiwe's house now.

You ready for this?

Well, seems like faith
is what people need.

I didn't know if you'd come.

Sometimes we must keep filling
the bucket with water, yes?

These are the family and friends

of the people who died

on Sankuru Flight 19.

Innocent people who were
sent to their deaths.

I'm meant to what,

throw my hands up now, huh?

Meant to come out,

repent my sins?

Tell her to go to hell.

All of these people,

they've lost people they love
because of a bloody rock

that's been dug out of the mud
and fought over, died over,

just so that we can
hunch over our phones.

Sad, you know.

You're exploiting
these poor people's grief

all because you're bitter
that your husband

didn't fucking love you.

It's not about Will
anymore, Judith.

Sure.

Go home, Georgia.

There was a full inquiry
into the crash, remember?

It was an accident.

What you're doing isn't gonna
change anybody's mind.

That's where you're wrong.

Honesty.

For once in your life,
that's what I'm asking.

If you owe me anything,
it's this.

Tell the truth.

You, uh, don't mind
if I use your loo, do you?

Uh, sure.

It's just through there.

- Thanks.
- Yeah.

I suppose she'll turn up
in the morning.

What? What is it?

You know, I probably should have
told you this before, but, um,

it's not the first time
she's done it.

She runs away
most days, actually.

Sometimes don't see her
for a few days.

So why have you had me...?

Look, I just wanted
to get to know you.

We haven't met,
but I've seen you here.

Beautiful girl shouldn't
be out here on her own.

You say she does this a lot?

Yeah. A few times, now.

Animals, eh?
They do what they do.

Ever thought maybe it's you?

Maybe she wants
to be somewhere else,

and you should just let her go.

You can leave now.

Fine.

You know, it's no surprise to me
you ended up out here...

all on your own.

You've got no idea how or why
I ended up here,

and what I've seen.

You wouldn't believe me anyway.

Just go and piss off now.

Hey.

Hello.

I didn't know,
but I didn't say anything.

This shows the money,
and where it was going.

I have e-mails and texts,

that help confirm
what I'm saying.

Why are you telling
all of this now?

After all this time?

I've seen what
it does to people,

losing someone.

And it's happened
to too many people.

What will happen to him now,
I wonder?

He'll try and strike
a deal, probably.

Bloody cockroach.

Oh, as long as he does what
he came to do, I don't care.

He's not my problem anymore.

My uncle told me a
story once when I was young.

The story he told me

was about a farmer's donkey.

This donkey fell down
a deep well.

The donkey sat at the bottom
of the well

squealing and crying for hours.

The farmer looked down at him,
and he decided

that the animal was old,

and that he needed
to cover the well, anyway.

Well, they began to shovel dirt
down into the well,

onto the donkey.

More and more dirt.

But then he stopped.

After shoveling some more dirt,

he'd looked down
to see something amazing.

All the dirt they had thrown
upon the creature's back

had fallen to the side
when he shook it off his back.

Slowly but surely,
the dirt began to build,

until the donkey
got higher and higher,

until eventually,
he could walk out of that well.

And why did your uncle

tell you this story?

To make me feel better.

The donkey could leave that well

so it could once more
carry a load on its back.

Free, so it could be
a slave once more.

But I am no slave.

Let go.

Okay?

Yeah.

Come on.

Well, that was fun.

Strewth. What did you get for it
in the end?

Don't ask. It's not exactly
prime real estate, is it?

I don't know. You might be half
a dozen sheep better off.

She was fast asleep just now.

Oh.

I guess I'll start
loading the stuff.

Thank you.

You don't have to thank me.

I do. You are giving me a home.

You have a home.

We're just making
a new one together. Okay?

Come on.

Should we give him a hand?

Watch out.

Is this the well-practiced art

of getting out of
carrying stuff?

No, no, no. No.
We're gonna do it.

MARTIN Look at that.

Look. Look at that dog.

There's no one around for miles.

I think he's lost.

No, she's not lost.

You sure?

Yeah. Come on. Let's get going.

Okay.