All language subtitles for The Gentle Touch s04e01 Right Of Entry.eng

Hush, Morris.

Whisper who dares.

There's one at the gate.

What? The thing I most admire you for,
Moe, is your economy with words.

You are frugal with words.

Follow me.

Go frugal yourself!

Morris, we've been good companions.

Don't go sour on me now, laddie.

Together we stand.

Together we fall.

Agreed? Yeah.

Well, follow Weaving.

Natural bloody leader.

Oh, he's just walked in now.

Mr Croft, do you want him?

I knew you'd come to your senses sooner
or later.

Steady, pal.

Oh, God, Maisie, you've no idea how I
want to be wanted. You are, sir, by

himself. Yeah, but I mean, he hasn't got
your... But then look, no matter how I

beg, plead or attempt to persuade you
otherwise, I want you to remain firm,

resolute and tell me no.

You understand?

Not exactly, no.

That's what I want to hear. No, no,
never. I'll die rather than say yes.

Keep trying, will you? Do that.

Sorry, Gov. Yes, me too.

Police surgeon? On his way. Jake? He's
get out of the ball. Round him up, get

yourself over there at the double. I'll
join you just as soon as I've contacted,

seen a crimes man and photographer.

Yeah, but I'm wearing my baby suit.
Look, you take care of preliminaries.

get you to the court on time. A new
man's coming in today, yeah? I'm going

team him up with Maggie.

She's still on compassionate.

As soon as I can get through to her and
Bain, number I'll recall her.

You had enough yet, Grandad.

Grandad!

Grandad.

Grandad.

A bit of a teaser, this one. Naked, no
external signs of violence.

Well, apart from the burn marks on the
hands and feet. Yeah, I was about to

apart from the burn... What did the
doctor say?

He's dead.

Who was it?

Cameron. Bloody old woman.

Well, he's passed it.

Now, why do I reckon I know that face?

Could be the degenerate. Thank you.

Or a sexual pervert.

Deviant.

He's having his little bit of fun. He's
got out a hand, gone too far, and... He

snuffed it. His little friends have
panicked. My little.

Why, what?

How do you know they're little? All
right, they're enormous. These bloody

enormous friends of panic can dump the
body here if it fits. You stop smoking.

I'm not saying a word.

Equally as an early morning streaker
who's suffered a heart attack.

All right, how do you account for the
burns?

You could have got those sliding down a
rope.

Excuse me, gentlemen, do you mind?

I'm sorry I've got to dash off like
this. I understand.

If you've got to go... We've got no
choice. The exigencies are for service.

I'm quite sure your mother wouldn't have
been recalled unless she had some very

important business to attend to.

I expect it's another missing dog and
Russell's got a lead.

No doubt. When you become the
breadwinner, your mother will be in a

take things easier.

And how you put up with this with his
last wink?

You're always welcome, dear. You know
that.

I admire the way you manage to keep up
appearances, aunt.

It's no place to shame her. How you do
it?

Simple, dear. If it moves, I cement over
it. If it doesn't move, I paint it.

Don't worry about him. He's safe for a
bit.

So you got rid of your garden gnomes
since we were last here?

Yes. A hooligan element took exception
to them. I can't think why, but... Well,

never mind.

You could always stick a little fish
pole in his one good hand and wheel him

in the mornings.

A fair substitute, wouldn't you say?
That's not funny, Steve.

Perhaps not, but a lot safer, provided
she would in back indoors at night. You

got anything in the car?

I'm ready to go.

I'm going to say goodbye.

Goodbye.

Don't worry, mate.

I'll be back to rescue you.

Here, you drive.

You're letting him drive?

I'm not.

Rather you than me.

Bye -bye, Dad.

I don't expect you to write. I know how
your time's taken up. But do try and

phone. You will, won't you?

I'll phone. Promise.

And come down again soon.

Any time.

Is that absolutely necessary?

Sorry? Do you normally speak to people
like that?

People like what? Like a lout.

Oh, Mum.

What? Nothing, just oh, Mum. You were
behaving like a lout. You were being

deliberately bloody rude.

Was I? Yes, you were.

Well, I'm not happy.

Not happy about what?

About her.

Her attitude.

I don't like her.

I don't like the way she treats my
grandfather, and I don't like the idea

ending his days there with her.

The silly, unsympathetic cow. You watch
your tongue. I've watched my tongue, if

that's physically possible, for the past
ten days. Steve, listen.

I don't want a round, Mum.

Not while I'm driving. All right, you've
got something to say, so go on, say it,

and let's get it all out in the open.

Look, I'm pretty level -headed as a
rule, you agree?

I'm not given to teenage tantrums and
emotional outbursts.

As a policeman's son, I know the drill.

By and large, I don't step out of line.

I watch my P's and Q's and remind myself
constantly that you're the Metropolitan

Police hero's widow and I'm your model
teenage son.

But when, for Christ's sake, Mother, are
you going to recognise the fact that

I've grown up?

That I have opinions of my own? And that
my opinions don't necessarily conform

to yours, but are still valid simply
because they're mine? And let me finish,

please! I don't care about your Auntie
Wing.

I don't care how good, how kind, how
decent she may or may not be.

But I care about my grandfather.

Because I feel affection.

A great deal of affection for him.

And none for her.

Now, have we got it out in the open?

My God, Steve, I just... I feel... What
do you think?

Oh, God, Steve, I did it. We did it for
you.

For me? Yes, for you.

You don't have the monopoly on
affection, you know, Steve.

Look, I love my father dearly.

But there comes a moment when someone
has to make a decision.

It was your A -level year. I'd watched
you struggling to cope with your study

there, helping me. You would have done
that, and I appreciated it. But Dad,

living at home, and you having to see to
him as well, it was too much, you

realise that? It wasn't just me.

Your grandfather knew.

I didn't lay down any laws.

Are you telling me you volunteered for
that? That, as you call it, is living

with his sister by the sea. She may not
be Florence Nightingale, but at least

she has the time to devote to him. Oh,
so as far as you're concerned, he's all

right. He's happy. Now, you are talking
like a teenager.

You come up against a problem, no easy
solution, so you strike out in all

directions.

Look, my father has led an active,
independent life. He hates the idea of

a burden.

He's never going to be happy having to
rely on other people. You wouldn't be

happier having to rely on you.

A situation like this is not a

question of who's right or wrong.

You know what to do for the bed.

Let's get you back to town.

Don't look now, but I think Jake just
arrested somebody.

He's got that devil in him since he went
in front of the board for D .I.

How did he get on?

Oh, he went swimmingly, according to
him.

Heard any whispers?

I think he may have dropped a brick.

Such as?

There's a deputy commander on the board
who's got a thing about statistics. Now,

he's rapping on about something like,
every 84 minutes in the Greater London

Area, a woman is being raped or mugged.
And he asked Jake for his comments.

Jake says?

She must be getting a bit bloody fed up.

Did they laugh?

Not a chitter.

Typical hard -nosed Brit, bloody. He
will as lot.

Right, I'm off.

Back to the factory.

Nia, I want to get on to the coroner's
office, get that one pushed up the

Would that be before or after breakfast?

Well, well, save some fried bread for
me, huh? Nothing famished.

Oh, that's fair. Go on.

I had my breakfast menu all planned,
didn't I?

Sugar puffs, bacon and egg, fried
tomato.

Where did you find him?

He was lurking in the background.
Thought he looked a bit suspicious.

Well, it's a bit fishy, I see that.

His name is Leo Ernst. That is correct.

Out of order, Beat Constable. Oh, he's
ignorant.

He tells me that Leo here and a
friend... The Beat Constable is ignorant

facts. ...have been dosing on this
site... We have been resident on this

...for the past three or four weeks. Two
months, come Thursday. Well... That is

where we... So, Constable...

I am a material witness.

He's a bit more than that, Gov, in my
opinion. Could be wrong. I've got a

sneaking suspicion our friend here is
wearing the dead man's shoes.

All right, Leo.

Let's barter the daps. I beg your
pardon?

They want to examine your footwear.

They do?

I should stand back and bar, will you?

Seriously damage your appetite.

Get them off.

Love you, Ryan. Sorry.

You reckon?

Shoe bits.

Hey, it's on your way back to the nick,
Gump.

Him travelling in my car? Not bloody
mighty.

Who's sending the postmaster? What time
are you doing call? Um, call for ten.

Ah, now, do us a favour, Gump. Full mail
out and an empty stomach. I'll be

calling for Huey.

Any case, I'll be at Blossom, Bookton
and Question.

No way they're going to get a scowl to
that one before 11.

Right, does that leave you free through
it, then? No, no, I've got an

appointment at the yard. Oh, yeah.

So, uh, look, sir, it's all down to
Maggie.

She'll like that.

I'll get a good breakfast inside you.
That's an order. Going to be a long day,

yes?

Don't get all boisterous, Leo.

Decide I put you on a diet.

Sandpan frit.

You're not only out of condition, you're
definitely not nice to know.

I do my best, laddie.

I walk about in the rain.

That can rot your socks, sir.

I used a bar of soap once.

Since when I have used no other? I'll go
Bible on that. Wheel him away.

Come on, Cinders.

Get that little soddy by lunchtime. I'll
buy a beer.

Jake, you've got such a way with words.

The heart fluttered within her breast
like a captive bird as the brave

leaned over her.

And in a voice throbbing with submerged
passion, he said, get that lot sorted by

lunchtime and I'll buy you a beer.

Well, be thankful for small mercies. Do
I have any choice?

Jake?

Ah, heard you were in the building. Give
pays to advertise. How are you? Oh, I'm

bearing up.

Congratulations.

I'm dogging you, man. You could be
gracing a DI's desk with any luck. No,

not counting any chickens.

This is our resident boiler.

If ever you're in trouble, she'll
probably be the cause.

Sergeant Phillips.

Peter Phillips, Maisie.

Asham's a day, he's on the strength.
Nice to meet you.

Pete and I were at Cannon Road together.

I helped train him. Oh, my God.

He give you a hard time?

We're working at it. All right.

Here. You've been to see the governor?
Yeah, he seemed a bit... Yeah, there's a

flap on it.

Do you want to do me a favour?

Like what?

I've got a wino banged up downstairs,
got a mate I'm eager to have a word

If I give you a location, will you lift
him for me?

Yeah, well, I'm only making up the
numbers here, aren't I?

OK, see you later.

So... Jake, what made you join the CID?

Heard it was glamorous.

Is it? I was misinformed.

Excuse me.

Oh, can I help you?

I'm a way around.

You work here?

Yes, are you?

Detective Sergeant Phillips.

How do you do? I'm Detective Inspector
Forbes.

Ah, well, pleased to meet your
acquaintance, ma 'am.

Would you like to go ahead?

Yes, I think I will, if you don't mind.
Wise decision.

He hasn't had his blast all over yet.

Russell. Yeah?

You all right?

Hang on.

Phillips, brought your other duster in.
You want to wear it? Not half, I don't.

Get me right down.

What's that? You've got a morgue out
there. Hello, Jake.

Maggie.

How are things?

All right.

You look a bit fraught. Oh, I just got
back from Herne Bay.

No luggage. You're still in West
Whittering.

I've got a dash. I'll see you later. OK.

Any improvement?

Want to talk about it? Not really.

Hello. What have we got on?

A funny one.

Funny peculiar or a funny ha -ha?

Derelict site by the gasworks, corner of
Cleveland and... Oh, Sexton Road.

Right. Yeah, who's that?

Yeah, well, tell Phillips I'd like a
word, like now.

A big constable discovered a body on it
earlier this morning. Now, it only signs

violence, burn marks on one hand and
feet.

Sex? That's the first thing that Bob
thought of. Now, talking of morgues...

one track mind, all of you. When I say
sex, I mean male or female.

Male, white. I've opened the file. All
yours.

Oh, thank you. You won't have time to
read it before, so I suggest you go

through it while you're waiting for the
results post -mortem.

I'm attending the post -mortem. Right.
When?

I think you're making a move now, if I'm
not mistaken. What, on her own stomach?

Oh, no, look, wait a minute. I get an
urgent call, get back here, all health

pop, and I drive up non -stop from Herne
Bay.

Investigating officer has a duty to
attend a post -mortem. You know that.

routine.

You're a sadistic sort of... All

going on around here, Governor?

Is it? What have you got?

Not a lot, apart from a sinking feeling
in my stomach.

Phillips, tell me, what do you think of
women detectives? Not much. Meaning?

Meaning I haven't had much time to think
about women detectives, sir. Well, go

knock on Inspector Forbes' door and
introduce yourself as her new man,

It's Monday, Cap. On your way, Sergeant.

Oh, apropos lunch, sir. Have a word with
Inspector Forbes. I'm sure she'll have

made provision and a word of advice.
Stop worrying about your stomach. Start

contemplating your status. It's looking
decidedly iffy.

Now, what can I do for you?

Governor says to stay on with you.

Oh, wonderful.

Will you be emigrated?

No. He could always aim me out, though.
Yeah, that's true. Take a seat.

Oh, not exactly house -proud, is he?

No, but he's a good copper.

Well, that should make someone happy.

Well, you've got a post -mortem to
attend.

Yeah, looking forward to it.

I don't worry you.

Worry me? No, I love him.

Well, I'll need an exhibit, officer.

Forensic science is where it's all at,
you know. We can't make a move without

them. You know... Sorry, I'll get on my
soapbox. That whole area to me is

nothing short of magic.

Are you serious?

Like the man said, all the bits and bobs
carefully bagged and tagged.

You take the stomach content.

Now, I don't have to tell you, they can
often provide the vital clue.

I mean, all you have to do is give a
pathologist a handful of liver and

and in his hands it becomes a chart.

A mine of information.

Give him a basin full of stomach
contents and he becomes a clairvoyant.

Peering, groping into the past.

Here we go.

Yeah.

Whenever you're ready.

Hey, let me give you a hand.

Don't worry about it.

You can always lean on me.

Thank you.

is for not getting to grips with your
clients, do you know?

I endeavour to cope with what Charlie
here describes as our Russia, but as you

can see for yourselves, we've had an
entire chapter of calamity.

Step closer, do.

Let's make a start, shall we?

that hath no stomach for this fight let
him depart.

Are you feeling all right, my dear?

Bone.

Just hold that there for a minute.

You attended postmortems before?

Yes.

Still makes you feel a bit queasy, eh? A
bit.

It's the intolerable stench of
formaldehyde that unsettles me,

an empty stomach.

I expect that's what did for your
colleague.

Yes, I expect so.

A bit bloody silly, that, wasn't it?

A bit.

I feel all right, Burke.

It's never happened to me before. First
time.

I suppose you'll be dining out on it.

Dining out on what?

Come on, it's got to be worth a laugh,
hasn't it? Brand new sergeant flakes

you stay on your feet.

Where are you?

First date could be embarrassing.

Have you worked with any policewomen
before?

No, never.

Any prejudice?

Well, I haven't given it much thought.

Look, I don't know what your attitude is
to police women in general, but let's

get rid of a few misconceptions about
me.

I don't give a damn who I work with, as
long as they do their job and allow me

to get on with mine.

Now, as far as I'm concerned, the
instance closed, all right? Well, I'll

that with a pinch of salt. You,
Sergeant, can do what you've learned.

Look, you came on strong and you came
unstuck. If you want to brood about it,

ahead. It's your business. I don't like
repeating myself, but as I said, I've

forgotten it, all right? All right, I
believe you. Thank you.

If they should ask me. You could write a
book.

Yes, ma 'am. Go on, get out.

I'm on your side.

Now, CRO's got quite a hefty dossier on
this man.

Name, Edwin Charles Ferris, commonly
known as Ned.

Lot of form, all burglary, positive MO.

Sole operator specialising in the theft
of objet d 'art.

Five arrests, three convictions, no
record of violence.

Last sentence, 73, release 79.

Has been questioned on various occasions
since then.

Thank you. Now, Ferris was married, no
children, permanent address, 32 Fawcett

Street, Walthamstow.

Inspector there's got a personal file on
him, but it's a slim one.

Ferris's domestic life seems to have
been stable, and he had no obvious

Apart from a gas guzzler.

He drove a Daimler Jag. Now, you want to
get this down. Registration.

CYW576V.

Well, that's it, ma 'am.

Now, regarding the post -mortem, well, I
won't go into details.

Sufficient to say that it showed
conclusively that Ferris died of an

shock.

Now, my opinion, for what it's worth, is
that Ferris was out on a job, but the

chances of you picking up a whisper on
this are slim. Sergeant Barrett pointed

out he was a loner.

But if we can locate the car, we're in
with a chance.

Now, it's lots of legwork, but, well, at
least it'll keep you on the streets and

out of those unhealthy drinking
establishments. Good luck.

Detail this lot off, Jake, man. Come on,
girls.

Which first move? As if you didn't know.
Would seem logical.

Well, unless she's heard it
unofficially. She doesn't even know

yet.

Yes?

Mrs. Ferris?

Yes? We're police officers.

Yes.

I wonder if we could have a word. You've
got a warrant.

This is Detective Sergeant Phillips. I'm
Detective Inspector Forbes.

Piss off.

I don't think you quite understand. Get
out of it.

Scarpa, bugger off.

I don't even want you crossing this
threshold. Is that understood?

Go on, get out of it. String your bloody
hook. You're worth a bloody good

doffer.

Go on, get out.

Me and the inspector have trekked all
the way out here to tell you something

think you ought to know.

Like as of this morning, you're a widow.

Hold on, hold on a minute.

Look, I didn't mean to go off the deep
end. I'm sorry.

Nothing personal, I assure you.

We're human too, Mr. Burton.

Of course you are.

Eat just that now.

What?

Come in.

Come on in.

Both of you.

What happened?

Should we sit down?

I don't want a lot of sympathy. I just
want to know what happened.

How about some tea?

Through there.

It's all marked.

I just have to ask you some routine
questions, Mrs Ferris.

Well, they're always routine.

Your husband's body was found on a
derelict site this morning. He'd been

electrocuted.

Go on.

Let's not beat about the bush, Mrs.
Ferris. Your husband had a record. A

of police vindictiveness and judicial
tyranny.

He was a known criminal. Criminal?

Bullshit. He was a burglar.

One of the best.

Probably the best.

But then only history will tell, won't
it? Excuse me. All right if I use

I never got around to plumbing in Ur.

The lavatory's through there.

Right next to the bedroom.

Oh.

Bloody transparent, it's not true.

My husband was a professional.

He won't find anything through there.

Is your husband's death concern you,
Mrs. Ferris?

My husband was a man of integrity.

He had principles and he clung to them.

He wasn't a socialist.

He believed in free enterprise.

He was a fundamentalist and a freemason.

The reason to believe that your husband
died sometime Sunday morning was he here

with you on Saturday?

Yes. Can you remember what time he left
home?

Yes. Was he quite late?

Around ten.

Did you say where he was going?

No. Did you ask?

No.

I'll pour.

Milk? Yes.

Help yourselves to sugar.

You've got some nice pieces.

And receipts for every one of them.

And a fairly sophisticated burger alarm
to protect them.

Yes, well, my husband was nobody's fool.

Your husband just walked out of the
house about ten.

That's right.

You weren't even curious?

No. Why?

Well, was it routine, like a job?

Dirty weekend?

If that's your idea of the psychological
approach, forget it.

It's pathetic.

I would have worried you either way.

I assumed... I assumed he had business
to attend to.

Why would you assume that if no words
had passed between you?

You married.

Now you're changing the subject.

Why would you assume that he had
business to attend to, and what sort of

business would you assume it to be at
ten o 'clock at night? Was it the way he

was dressed?

Dressed? Do you have a file on your
husband, Mrs Ferris? We studied his M

The sergeant is asking whether he was
wearing his working clothes.

The work was a taboo subject.

Closed book.

I never inquired about his work.

You keep your front door locked at
night? Of course.

Alone in the house late at night?
Naturally, she'd have everything bolted

barred, wouldn't she? Alarm system
activated?

I've answered all the questions I
consider to be necessary, and I would

to leave.

Your husband, he suffered from a severe
stomach complaint. Did he? He was on a

low -residue diet. It would be helpful
if we could establish where he ate his

last meal. Did you make him something
before he left home? I don't remember.

Then let me jog your memory.

Did you cook him cream sweetbreads on
Saturday?

You bloody barbarian.

You opened him up, didn't you?

You animals.

You just kicked me.

It's just routine, Mrs. Ferris. And
informative.

There's more than can be said for you.

Mrs. Ferris, your husband fell foul of
someone. You don't alarm me.

You've got to go. Yes, we're going.

You have to identify the body. That's
the law. You'll be available?

From now on, anything I say will be said
in the presence of my solicitor.

I'll see you to the door.

We'll be in touch.

You know where to find me.

One hour. One hour I spent in the
witness box being cross -examined by

What's she getting on?

Case dismissed.

Any joy?

God, I've got some hard -boiled females
in my time, but that one takes a

biscuit. Heart attack? With weevils.

That old man, he left the house about
ten o 'clock Saturday night.

Is that all?

She doesn't know, she doesn't care. I
didn't like her one little bit.

There is one thing in our favour.

I mean, the point that I'm hoping... Oh,
God, what am I doing?

That was his lunch.

Look, I've got a feeling that she's
lying. I've got a feeling she knows

that car is, and I've got a feeling
she'll make a beeline for it. Feminine

feelings. Throw along.

Sergeant Phillips found this.

Where did you find this?

Bedside table drawer.

Fast worker.

At least you've got a bit of get -up
-and -go.

What did he make of that?

Collection of early Russian icons.

Fullerton Gallery.

It's two months old. Well, read on.
There's a name.

Righteous made available courtesy of Mr.

Damien Dayell.

Doesn't it?

I'm asking you. What was that, the
Fullerton Gallery? Shall I check with

security? Use that phone. A big attack
doesn't want to start a panic.

Right.

Who's the authority on electricity?

The only thing I know about electricity
is the young man who can't amend a

washing machine.

Bit of a live wire, was he? Talking to a
lady inspector like that.

Tut -tut.

Shopping. No, not at all. He was an
homosexual.

What? Not from Amstead? All right, all
right. Joke over. Oh, good afternoon.

making some current inquiries. Oh, come
on. Seriously.

Oh, policeman.

What sort of voltage do you need to kill
a man? Amps. Amps are more dangerous

than volts.

Yeah, it's regarding an early exhibition
of ancient Russian icons.

Number 10, Richmond Avenue. You want to
make note of that?

Yeah. Can you spell that name?

D -A -L -Z -I -E -L.

Old Scots name. Pronounced Day -el. How
do you know it?

Now, normal domestic supply, 13 amps,
right? Depends on your requirements.

You've got the mains in the street being
fed from the transformer, the current

tap. from those mains. It's all fencing
water. For pipe, greater the volume. For

pipe, read cable.

So what does it need to kill a man?

With the right conditions. Look, look,
all I'm asking is, could Ferris have

collected a fatal shot from, let's say,
tampering with a burglar alarm?

Come on, Gav, he's a professional.

He could render an alarm system useless
blindfold, besides which he'd be

protected. Gloves, shoes... Gloves,
gloves.

I knew there was something in the back
of my mind. Gloves. Jake, tell him

calling back. I'll call you back.

Your two dots. Has anyone found any
gloves?

Not to my knowledge, no. Well, they
could have been ditched. Whole area's

gone over with a fine -tooth coat.

Exactly, and Bob's absolutely right.
Ferris without gloves, bet my bottom

he even chained with his gloves on.

What are you waiting for?

The car's been found, sir. Where?

Beauchamp Walk, South West 3.

Pronounced Beecham. Thank you, sir. Is
that meaningful?

Could be.

Beecham Walk. That's got to be more than
a Cohen.

Right, I'll get on forensics. They can
go over to the car. You lot get to stop

over to Richmond Ave.

Team -handed. Well, why not? Nothing
like a show of strength.

Use the psychological approach, yes?

Like group therapy.

Phillips gets the dustbin detail.

SW3, Chelsea.

Got a glass of dustbin? Now, Bob, you're
the wizard of ohms, amps and things.

See if you can't get stuff into the
cupboard under the stairs via the

I'll have a bath.

One word, gloves.

Two words.

You're on.

Let's have a moody wander. Check the
possibility of gaining access from the

rear, yeah?

I'll have to play this one by ear.

Get Tom to put that one through the
computer, will you? I'm going in.

You'll be Woffleton's people.

I'll say something, yes or no?

Bit early for you, Garve, are we?

Just a minute.

Oh, I have to do all that.

Takes a bloody age, but better safe than
sorry.

Well, now, you're the expert.

The security business leaves me baffled.
What happens now, eh?

Well, never look a gift horse in the
mouth, I say.

Well, if you've got an eye on my booze,
you can forget it. You're not allowed.

Check out the bag.

The bag? What the devil's he want out of
the bag? Oh, it's just a routine, sir.

There's no need to be alarmed. He knows
what he's doing.

Don't want to poke him out of the bag.

These. I threw them away.

These are indeed the items.

As you can see, I'm just about... All
packed and ready to go.

More or less.

There's one or two pieces left. Have you
got transport laid out? Oh, yes, sir.

I'll check out the front.

Well, they seem very professional.

Oh, yes, sir. The best there is. The
price?

You're obviously the person in charge.

Lord, yes. One word from me.

What's he doing out there? He's just
checking, sir.

Well, I don't want him poking about out
there. The valuables are in here.

The valuables, as you say, may very well
be in here, sir, but where are the

villains? I mean, that's what we've got
to be on the lookout for. You understand

that?

Oh, all right, if you say so.

I've packed all but these last three
items.

Icons.

Icons, yes.

I've listed everything.

You have?

Made a complete inventory.

Oh, dear, I wish you hadn't done that.
I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you

to unpack all these items, sir.

Unpack? Are you a demented woman? It's
taken me hours.

This consignment has been insured for
how much?

£600 ,000.

That's a lot of money, sir. Definitely a
lot of money. Yes, well, it's my

signature that goes on that form, after
which I'm held responsible. Now, for all

I know, these boxes may well contain
nothing but house bricks.

Are you serious?

Very.

All right.

It will make your day any brighter.

I had a break -in recently, sir.

Break -in? Well, what sort of alarm
system do you have installed? Is it the

alarm wheel? I have no idea.

Do you have a link -up with your local
Nick?

Not as far as I'm aware, no.

Has someone been tampering with your
electrical supply?

Electrical supply? Which has been
tampered with. Has it? Have you had the

in? Nope. But you have had some work
carried out on the kitchen window?

Yes. Yes, as a matter of fact, I thought
the wrought iron work needed

strengthening. You know, the actual
cement work where the bars are inserted

the wall.

And who carried out this work, sir?

Oh, yours truly.

I'm a dead hand.

Haven't watched the job for hours. Oh,
no, no, no, sir. Very professional. Are

you an enthusiast?

The job's worth doing, you know.

And this repair work was carried out
when?

Oh, recently, quite recently. Like,
yesterday?

Yes, yesterday. I did it yesterday.

Sunday. Well, sir, it was Sunday, so
what?

I'll get it.

Is that anything?

What the hell's that?

Excuse. Big enough to make your eyes
water. I'll keep it in reserve.

How long can we keep this up? Now, can
we make a move?

One question, sir. You know, I'm running
out of patience.

What day do your refuse collectors call?

What? Your dustbin men call what day?

Garbage? You are talking to me about
garbage? Well, Worpleton will hear about

this, believe me.

Mr. Worpleton will hear about this.

God almighty, I need a drink.

Mmm.

You know, this is pure bloody Kafka.

What did you do that for?

Saw reflex action.

You stay here, sir. I'll go.

Mother's ruined.

Do you mind?

Your liver.

Look, what is this? Open house?

Clear off!

Who are they?

Wurbleton, securely.

Ready when you are.

And then who are you?

Police, Mr Dale.

I don't believe it.

All right, lads. Escort you off the
premises.

A few questions I'd like to ask you,
sir.

Yeah.

Forensics have gone over Ferris' car and
it's been found spotless.

Figures. Do you want me to inform Mrs
Ferris? No need.

Why are you questioning me about
dustbins?

Why this sudden interest in dustbins?
Your dustbin gets empty Thursdays.

Monday. Mr Dayell's dustbins haven't
been used because Mr Dayell hasn't been

here to use them. Isn't that right?

What are you all, sanitary inspectors?

You were away for the weekend, sir? I
was away for the weekend. And you

when? Neighbor heard his car pulling
around midnight Sunday.

You be questioning my neighbors? Any
objections, Mr. Dale? It's known as

of privacy. It's also known as a police
inquiry, sir. Midnight Sunday.

It fits.

It fits? Like a glove.

Who writes your bloody dialogue? We make
it up as we go along, sir. That is your

station wagon parked outside, isn't it,
Mr. Dale? It is.

Mind if I borrow the keys?

Mind if I ask what they're out for?

I want to take some dust samples from
the boot. Make car.

Chevrolet. The renters run a fiber test?
They went to town.

Get a match?

Costello's prepared to go Bible.

Chevrolet? Some from the boot of his car
will clinch it.

You haven't got a leg.

Go whistle.

You're in luck, Mr. Master.

So, what is this, eh? What sort of
bloody silly game is this? Oh, it's

game, Mr. Dale. We're conducting a
murder inquiry.

A murder inquiry?

The body of a man was found on a
derelict site this morning. Two

They've been questioned now.

We've identified the corpse of the Mr.
Edwin Charles Ferris. You know him?

No, of course I don't bloody well know
him. Well, our inquiries have led us to

you, Mr. Dale.

This is...

Mind -blowing.

I've heard of police harassment.

This is... Put that down, you scots oaf.

No -one touches those except me, do you
hear me?

Put it down, you... Philistine.

You've been collecting these for some
time.

I've been gathering all my life.

You're dedicated.

I have a task to which I'm dedicated,
yes.

A man with a mission.

I'm not a collector.

I'm a custodian.

Are you saying that these things don't
belong to you?

I guard them. For posterity.

Something like that, yeah. But you have
actually gone out and bought them,

right? They're priceless.

You wouldn't understand. Did you or did
you not purchase the bloody things? Oh,

let's just say that I rescued them. I
think I understand.

You do? I think you understand, too.

What the hell? It disturbs you, doesn't
it?

It disturbs me, doesn't it what?

Then I'm shockproof.

Shockproof?

What are you, you some kind of freak or
something?

Shockproof? You know, this bastard is
sending us up. He is extracting the

And I'm going to have you, do you hear
me? I'm going to have you laughing at

other side of your freaky fat face.
Easy, go. Easy, nothing. I've seen his

before. I've heard them plead and
watched them walk away. Jack the lad,

off. I'll give you bloody shock proof. I
will suck you in and I will blow you

out in bubbles.

I'll have you weeping in your bibby and
wailing for your mammy. I'll... be out

there, if you want me.

Go.

Ask him to explain that.

You know, he's got a deep underlying
problem.

Sarge!

Mr. Dale, you realize we have a prima
facie case.

Would you care to elucidate for a gin
-sodden reprobate like me?

Let me paint you a picture.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Well, let's take a man.

For want of a better word, let's call
him an athlete.

Now, I'm warming to you.

This man falls in love.

Ah. With a painting.

Ah. Yes, which leads him into an affair
with a whole school of painters.

The quest.

Now, he dedicates his life to rescuing
these paintings with no thought of the

price, because he believes them to be
priceless, with no thought of ownership,

because he believes that no one can
actually own them.

Never. But, like children, having once
gathered them, he realises they've got

be cared for, guarded, protected.

Commerce has prostituted more art than
the Maltese pimps.

They have to be protected against the
thieves.

The predators.

The thieves that come in the night.

The thieves that take a bed of the
vandals, money -grubbist living and

and worse than rapists. This man is
besieged.

They're everywhere.

That's not the sort of man who wants his
works of art locked away in some damp,

dark vault. No, he needs them near him.

The oldest form of worship in the world.

Iconology?

Simple adoration.

So how can he guard them?

Love will find a way.

He needs some form of protection.

You know the pharaohs built the
pyramids?

They were still robbed.

Your hypothetical man needs a guard
who's unspeakably vigilant and

invisible, and ultimately lethal.

He needs... He needs what, sir?

Well, he needs help.

What sort of help?

Not human.

No, not human. A bit of a challenge,
wouldn't you say, sir?

Competing with the pyramids.

Like an electrical current.

Possibly. Like the one you used.

I used?

Connected to the mains and fed through a
fuse.

This size.

You're making a mistake.

You're jumping to awful conclusions.

I needed this. Why would you need a fuse
that size, Mr Dale?

For exterminating uninvited guests.

Isn't that it, Mr Dale?

It's a funny sort of doormat.

Durable. And deadly.

One of the lads dug these out.

We'll buy him a large one. They're on
me.

Right. Shall we go, Mr Dale?

Now, the previous occupants had
organised a three -phase input, so they

amperage. Now, an industrial fuse...
Cable from the mains, large crocodile

attached to that brass door handle,
and... What was your uncle?

Wasn't playing games, was he? He most
certainly wasn't. How does the law stand

on something like this? You know,
protection of property, sir?

Well, we put it to the pest, Maggie.

I'm going after a confession.

Will that stand up in court?

Will he stand up in court? His middle
name must be Juniper.

Bang him up for 48 hours without a bevy.
What sort of state's he in? He's shaky,

but he's sober.

Well, he better be, otherwise his brief
can always plead non -complice.

He won't go back on a sworn statement.

What makes you so sure?

She won't let him.

Oh, Mr Dale.

You have been cautioned and you will be
charged with the murder of Mr Edwin

Charles Ferris. Do you understand that?

Yes, I understand, but I don't accept.

I didn't kill that thing.

It killed itself.

A housefly attracted to a flypaper has a
choice.

To land or not to land. Who is morally
responsible?

A man trap or a rabbit snare is laid for
a specific purpose.

You arranged a trap and a man died.

It was entering my house, my property.

It had no business there other than the
execution of an unlawful deed.

Let's suppose, as you would say, that
having entered my house, a miscreant

a bottle, supposedly to be booze, and
drinks it, only to discover too late

it was contained a poisonous weed
killer.

Am I the perfectly legal owner of a well
-stocked drinks cabinet to be held

accountable? A monstrous, disgusting
thing enters my house, my home, and in

course of tampering with my belongings,
dies suddenly.

Well, am I responsible?

Tell me, is a man's home no longer his
castle?

No. No, Mr Dale.

It's not.

Now, that argument may well have been
swallowed hook, line and sinker by a

composed of cave dwellers, but it
doesn't even begin to stand up at the

the 20th century.

Look, you went away for the weekend
having rigged up an electrical

In this instance, a known burglar was
killed after breaking and entering, but

suppose, I just suppose...

that your man -trap had malfunctioned, a
bad connection, a dodgy wire, a short

circuit and a fire had started.

Her neighbour raises the alarm. The fire
brigade is called out and in an effort

to save your goods and chattels, a
fireman enters your house and dies as a

direct result of your paranoia.

Now, what would you plead then, Mr Dale?

You're right, of course you're right.

But I'm sorry, no matter how much I
search my mind, I cannot feel remorse.

I'll settle for the truth.

Do you know that before a man can paint
something as exquisite, as moving as

this, he has to go through a torment, a
process of purification.

A true icon can only be fashioned by a
man of true faith.

Oh, this is much more to me than just a
relic.

It represents something that, in a small
way, you might begin to understand.

I think I do.

What is it you wanted me, Inspector?

Well, in our mundane jargon, Mr. Dale,
it's called a statement.

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