All language subtitles for Endeavour S05E06 Icarus

If I might have everyone's attention.

As you know, since the
merging of City and County,

to create Thames Valley,

the future of Cowley police
station has been in the balance.

I have this day received
news from Division.

The station is to be
reduced to a skeleton staff

by the 23rd of the month.

And will be closed, permanently,

at midnight on the 30th.

Details of future placements

will be sent to each of you in due course.

I know I can rely on all of
you to discharge your duty

with the same professionalism

I have come to so admire these past years.

That's all. Carry on.

It's a remarkable stroke of good fortune

that you should be able to
join us at such short notice.

Well, I'm very grateful for
the opportunity, Headmaster.

Coldwater has a long history,

but I like to think we live in the
present and look to the future.

Of course, Mr Ivory coached the First XV.

Oh, and he was also responsible
for the end-of-term school play.

Oh. What play?

Shakespeare, I believe.

That's just the cadets.

Coldwater has a great martial tradition.

Now, in addition to your classroom duties,

you will also act as
House Master to Foxhole.

Ah, Mr Bodnar. This is Mr Morse.

The new man with the Lower Sixth.
Perhaps you could show him to his room?

Yeah. Of course, Headmaster.

I look forward to seeing
you in chapel for assembly.

Right, sir.

Oh, welcome to St Bastard's. "Ye
who enter here, all hope abandon."

- Thanks.
- Alun Bodnar.

- Fifth Form and chemistry.
- Have you been here long?

Long enough not to mind any more.

Found my point of neutral buoyancy.

I lack ambition and that killer instinct.

Don't run, boy!

Though I daresay that could be rekindled.

It's just this way.

- He was married, wasn't he? Mr Ivory.
- Yeah, that's right.

Headmaster's letting her stay on
at one of the gatekeepers' cottages,

just till the end of term.

Kate. Nice girl.

I hope you'll let me stand
you a pint at your earliest.

Yes. Thank you.

You want me to pose as a teacher?

It's Division's idea.

- Bring in an outside man.
- How's that, sir?

Someone uninvolved, fresh
pair of eyes on the situation.

Seems a lot of trouble to go
to for one missing person.

- Who is he?
- John Ivory.

Classics master at a boys'
school called Coldwater.

Last seen leaving the village pub

shortly after six, on October the 4th.

The local Detective
Inspector and his bagman

lost their lives in a road traffic
accident with an articulated lorry.

We've found no evidence
that connects them but...

understandably, Division are keen to
close the case one way or another.

It's all in there.

Just see if you can't get
under the skin of the place.

If there was anything untoward, the staff might
be more inclined to confide in one of their own.

Oh. There is one more
thing worth mentioning.

You won't be alone.

Upstairs think that the
women at the school

are more likely to confide
in another woman, is that it?

- I suppose. - It don't seem
much like proper coppering to me.

Tomorrow's world. Pity.

I'd hoped we might get one
last decent collar... together.

This Cromwell Ames character,
Eddie Nero. Both if we're lucky.

Maybe they'll cancel each other out.

It's who else they cancel out in the
meantime. That's what bothers me.

I've got Fancy on surveillance.
Something will give sooner or later.

We should be getting back.

No. Another five minutes
will be all right.

God, I love this place.

You should've seen their
faces -- Win and the kids --

when I brought 'em here
for the first time.

We'd been two-up,
back-to-back in the Smoke.

Couldn't believe somewhere
like this existed.

Not after bomb sites and soot.

It was like stepping out of
black and white and into colour.

So, you still mean to go through with it?

Station closing? Decision's made for me.

Too set in my ways to
start over somewhere new.

Besides, Win'd have my
guts if I let her down now.

No. Each thing in its season.

You'll be all right.

This undercover caper up the
school is only a week or two.

- I went into the village today.
- How was that?

The shopkeeper said one of the boys

used to come in on
Ivory's behalf most days,

for 40 Fusiliers and a
half-bottle of whisky.

Really?

And how was the pub?

The wives of respectable
young schoolteachers

- don't go into pubs by themselves.
- So what did the landlord say?

Ivory did stop by on
the night in question.

He had a couple of drinks,
and then left about 6.15

to meet someone called Agnes.

- Agnes what?
- Er... Davis, maybe?

The landlord couldn't be sure. Ivory
was always bragging about women.

- Really?
- The garage was closed.

- What are the boys like?
- I don't know. I haven't met them yet.

What are we doing? This
is such a waste of time.

Just following orders.

Division clearly thinks this is important.

It's not every day a Detective Inspector
and his bagman die in a car crash.

- It's happenstance, surely.
Nothing sinister. - Hm.

- Have you checked upstairs?
- This afternoon.

There's no sign of the previous
occupants. It's all rather Spartan.

The plumbing's positively
medieval. The sink's backing up.

We might have to get a man out.

It's just the one bed, I'm afraid.

- Well, I can take the couch.
- Don't be ridiculous.

How's that going to look
if someone comes knocking?

- "Dearest Mother..."
- Give it back!

"Thank you for the ten shillings
you sent me for my birthday."

- You know the rule, squit. - Hand
it over. - Oi! Stop that at once!

If I have to repeat myself
you'll all be on detention

till the end of term. Is that clear?

- What's going on?
- Natural selection, sir.

- Survival of the fittest, sir.
- Mensch und Ubermensch, sir.

Go on, all of you.

Go on!

- What's all this?
- Praetorians' privilege, sir.

- To beast the squits. - Well, if it
happens again, you come and see me.

All right?

- Go on. On your way.
- Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.

Hey. Wait a minute.

- Aggravine.
- Adsum.

- Babcock.
- Adsum.

- Clunchfist.
- Adsum.

- Dakin.
- Choir.

- Gaudibund.
- Adsum.

- Morris Minor.
- Adsum.

You mean Morry Thou, sir.

That's what Mr Ivory
used to call him, sir.

- After the car, sir.
- It's a joke, sir.

On account of his being a Jew, sir.

- Well, we'll have none of that here.
- I don't mind, sir.

- Well, you should. - But he doesn't,
sir. - I heard him. Thank you.

Erm... Nero.

- Here.
- Adsum, you bloody oik.

- Queach.
- Adsum.

- Rowntree.
- Absum, sir.

- Abest.
- He's not here, sir.

- Where is he?
- He was expelled, sir.

- Cast out, sir.
- Banished, sir.

- Black-balled, sir.
- Consigned to outer darkness.

- I see, thank you. Summerhead.
- Adsum. And Zec. - Choir. - Right.

Ovid's Metamorphoses. Lines 225 to 230.

Daedalus and Icarus.

Right.

Oh!

- Oh. Let's get one.
- Come on.

Brett Nero? Eddie's kept that quiet.

That could be why Division
have taken such an interest.

If Nero's son's at the school?

Mr Bright would have mentioned
it if that was the case.

Just happenstance, surely.
His kid's got to go somewhere.

Well, if her condition worsens,
then please give me a call.

Thank you. I'm sorry, I
couldn't find a telephone.

The office telephone is for school
business, not personal matters.

But I suppose if it's urgent.

- You're the new man.
- That's right. Morse.

- Miss...
- Mackenzie. Ravenna.

I think you're supposed
to be on break duty?

Ah, yes.

There's a payphone, in the vestibule.

For next time.

Oh. Thank you.

Get down!

Sounds like you had a close shave.

- I've had closer.
- Cromwell Ames?

I can't have you pair shooting up
the town like it's the Wild West.

- Somebody's gonna get hurt.
- I nearly got hurt.

- Somebody that matters.
- He's already tried for you once.

- He won't get a second go.
- If you know where he is...

It's past that now.

I told you at the start
not to take the law.

There's a reckoning due,
but it's ours to make.

Better get your skates
on, then, hadn't you?

Word is... your nick's
going out of business.

Don't get caught on the wrong side, Eddie.

You're no good to your
boy banged up, or worse.

Coldwater must be a pricey touch.

- You leave Brett out of this.
- For now.

Mind how you go.

Is there any news, sir?
News? About Mr Ivory, sir.

- The police came, sir.
- Talked to all of us, sir.

- But they couldn't find him, sir.
- And now they're dead, sir.

- Who are dead?
- The policemen, sir.

- A car crash, sir.
- With a lorry, sir.

- It was in the paper, sir.
- Yes, so I hear.

- That was bad luck, wasn't it, sir?
- Burning to death in a car, sir.

- What a way to go, sir.
- The papers said it was an accident, sir.

But was it an accident, sir?

Well, there's no reason
to believe otherwise.

Do you think Mr Ivory had
an accident too, sir?

I don't know. What do you think?

Well, you liked him, did you?

- Liked him, sir?
- He was a master, sir.

- We liked Mrs Ivory.
- He was married, sir.

- Yes, I know.
- Are you married, sir?

Mrs Ivory? I'm Mrs Morse.

Shirley. My husband's
taken over the Lower Sixth.

We're in your old house, Rose
Cottage. A letter came for you.

Oh. Thank you.

I'm sure it's the last thing you need,

but I wondered if you might
like to come to supper.

It's my husband's first
school since we got married,

which makes it my first school altogether.

- I'd be grateful for any advice.
- When were you thinking?

Here.

Have you spoken to Mr Bright yet?

He's got a lot on his mind at the
moment, with the station being wound up.

Well, no better time,
I would have thought.

I know it's a big step...
but it's for the best.

- While we still have our health.
- I know.

- You're not still
fretting over Morse? - No.

I've set him on his way.

- Good. Got some room for rice pud?
- Skin on?

Smashing.

Ooh! Charlie called. I
said you'd call him back.

I'll get it!

Jim.

Sorry to drop by late, sir,

but it looks like young
George has got a lead on Ames.

Shirley? What an enchanting name.

I'm a black belt. 7th dan. Ex-Territorial.

Feel that. Go on.

That's rock hard, that is.

It's like granite.

Well, the police came, of course.

Not that I was able to tell them anything.

I was at home with Ravenna,
my daughter, having supper,

and then we listened to
a concert on the radio.

That's right. Mahler. The Five.

- Your wife tells me you were at Bamfylde?
- Yes. That's right.

Is Old Wilkie still stinking
the place out with sulphur?

- I don't remember him.
- What about Popperynge?

Pop, the boys used to call him.

To be honest, I wasn't there long enough
to get to know any of the masters.

- Matron, all well?
- Yes, thank you, Headmaster.

Mr Morse, I am sorry to trouble you.

- Do you have a moment?
- Yes, of course.

Would you excuse me?

Armed police! Hands in the air!

- Cromwell Ames?
- Who wants to know?

DCI Thursday, Thames Valley Police.

Cromwell Ames, you're under
arrest for suspicion of murder.

You do not have to say anything,
but anything you do say

will be taken down and
can be given in evidence.

It's one of the fifth
years. A boy called Stanlow.

Perhaps you could talk to him while
I get fresh linen on the mattress.

- He wets the bed.
- Ah.

It's Mrs Seymour, isn't it?

We've not been properly
introduced. I'm Morse.

How are you and your
wife finding Coldwater?

I think she'd be happier if
she had a little more to do.

I don't suppose you could
use a spare pair of hands?

I might. Part time.

There wouldn't be much money, but...

if you really think it might be of
interest, tell her to come and see me.

Liam Flynn. Sometime collector
for Eddie Nero's extortion racket.

Stabbed to death in May.

Burt Hobbs, lorry driver. Family man.

Just about to celebrate his ruby wedding.

Had his head bashed in
at Waddington Junction

when a mob hi-jacked his
load of Killoran whisky.

Lloyd Collins, fence for the whisky.

Stabbed to death in a lock-up
in the arse end of Cowley.

A black cockerel was left
next to him. Its head cut off.

Sounds like voodoo to me, mister.

- You don't wanna mess with that.
- We know what you're about.

- You're looking to take over Nero's turf.
- Never heard of him.

I'm just a car dealer.

I'm sorry, sir. I had a nightmare.

- I'm all right now.
- It's all right.

What's all this?

Mr Ivory said we should look to the
lives of great men as an example, sir.

- Did you like Mr Ivory?
- Yes, sir.

Very much, sir.

- He wasn't like the other masters.
- Oh? How's that?

He was kind. He used
to call me "Dak", sir.

I think it's short for "Daktari".

It's a programme on the
television about a vet in Africa.

There's a lion in it called
Clarence. That's my name too.

I'll get Matron to bring you some
warm milk. Would you like that?

Go on. Hunker down.

Seems a nice boy. Stanlow.

He's troubled, though. His
parents are getting a divorce.

Ah. It's difficult for any child.

To some degree they
always blame themselves.

The other boys bully him. He's not sporty.

- Something of a teacher's pet.
- Oh.

Mr Ivory protected him
so far as he could, but...

Why would Mr Ivory protect
Stanlow from the other boys?

I don't know, but he did.

- Has Ames said anything?
- As little as possible, sir.

His brief is with him now. A
big cheese up from London.

- Claiming alibi?
- A good dozen witnesses

will swear he was elsewhere at the
time of each of the killings, sir.

All bought and paid for, presumably.

- Including the attempt on Nero's life?
- In London, sir.

At the... Bunny Club. There's
photographs to prove it.

We've let him go, but I've told Fancy

not to let him out of his sight.

There might be some progress
with Morse at the school, sir.

The missing persons case.

He's had a shirt left in his desk.

Had a driver pick it
up in the early hours.

Over 20 stab wounds...
according to Dr deBryn.

- Murdered, then?
- Certainly looks that way, sir.

If it's Ivory's shirt...

- Oh, Caesar...
- Hence!

Wilt thou lift up Olympus?

- Great Caesar...
- Doth not Brutus bootless kneel?

Speak, hands for me.

Aargh!

Et tu, Brute!

Then fall, Caesar!

It's mostly coughs and colds.

Mumps. Measles. Chickenpox.

But anything serious,
then we get the doctor out.

Otherwise, it's housekeeping.

Are you sure you won't
be bored, Mrs Morse?

Not a bit. And do call me Shirley, please.

- How long have you been at Coldwater?
- Ten years now.

Before that I was a district
nurse for eight years.

I'd imagine a matron's the
eyes and ears of a school.

Can't be much that goes on
here you don't know about.

I don't know about that.

What do you think happened to Mr Ivory?

You don't suppose anyone here
could have... done something?

There was no love lost between
Ivory and Blackwell, apparently.

On the evening in
question, they had words.

Ivory was meant to be
looking after the film show,

but he ended up ducking out
and Blackwell got roped in.

That's hardly motive for murder, is it?

Mrs Seymour thought there
might be something more to it.

- Who do you think left the shirt?
- I don't know.

It's either someone trying
to help. Or it's a threat.

What do I remember about the
night Ivory went missing?

Funny sort of thing to ask.

No, not really. Dead man's shoes.

Or dead man's class, in my
case. I'm living in his house.

Well, there's not a lot I can tell you.

He was meant to run the film
for the boys, but then he said

he had some sort of family
emergency and left me to it.

- What did you make of him?
- Erm...

- He was all right.
- Now, what's this?

Oh. Stanlow won't fire a rifle.

Will you, Stanlow? Arms up, boy!

Up!

Yeah. He's got it into his
head he's a little pacifist.

Little coward, more like.

So he's under heavy manners.

See if we can't... correct his thinking.

Make Britain Greater.

Bloody right. We were a force
to be reckoned with once.

Not now. Going cap in
hand with a begging bowl...

.. taking rubbish from half
the places we used to run.

Well, look. I'd best get on.

Give my regards to your wife.

She's a good-looking girl.

How'd you ever manage to
snare a piece like that?

Charm.

- How are you finding the boys?
- Oh, I think we're still...

getting the measure of each other.

They seem to have held your
husband in some regard.

John was very fond of them.

I don't suppose there's any news from the
police as to what might have happened?

- Morse.
- No.

No, it's all right. I don't
mind talking about it.

In a way, it reminds me that it's real.

Sorry.

Presumably, the police spoke to
everybody at Coldwater, at the time?

Oh, yes. The usual questions, I'd imagine.

"Any money troubles? Did
he have any enemies?"

After a week or so, it
just went very quiet.

Right.

Sorry I'm a bit early.
Hello. Hello. Hello, Kate.

- How are you? - Morse and
Shirley have been spoiling me.

Quite right too.

- Early for what?
- I'm here to lead your husband astray.

- A pint or two at the local.
- Well, don't let us stop you.

It was lovely to have met you.
Hopefully we'll see you again.

I'm glad the lower sixth have got
someone nice to look after them.

- He seems nice.
- Alun? Yes. He's been very kind.

Hm.

Thursday, CID.

Oh, hello, Charlie. I was gonna ring you.

Everything all right?

Yeah, course. Tonight?

Well, I suppose I can.

Round nine, do you? All right.

Till then.

I mean, what do you
think happened to Ivory?

Oh, Christ. Not him again. You're
like a scratched record, man.

You said you didn't click. How come?

He spoke to the boys' baser instincts.

- Their lesser angels.
- Oh.

And he was a bully.

- He inspired the same in others.
- That's quite a charge.

I taught most of the boys in your form.

They were all right till
Ivory got hold of them.

Have you ever been bullied?

Aye-aye, Charlie.

Oh, thanks for coming, Fred.

What's all this?

Well... I don't know where to start.

Well, the beginning's usually favourite.

Just tell me. What's up?

- I got took, Fred.
- What do you mean, you got took?

I had to borrow some money.

I thought they were on
the level, to begin with.

I just got more and more behind.

They said I could work it
off through the business.

- What do you mean?
- Using the company's good standing.

Credit. Goods.

Loans from the bank.

You've been the front
for a long firm fraud.

Oh, Jesus Christ. What about my money?

Oh, no. No, no, no.

A loan, you said. A
short-term loan, Charlie.

I thought I could buy 'em off.

It's gone, Fred. I'm going
away. We're going away.

Before you get lifted?

What did they do with my money, Charlie?

The cheque. Can it be traced back to me?

I...

You've done me, Charlie!

My whole life. Everything I've worked for.

- You've dragged me into the sewer.
- I didn't know.

Don't lie to me!

Look. I'm sorry, Fred.

I had to do it for Paulette. For Carol.

What about me and Win?
It was our retirement.

Our life savings.

Now I've got to live out what I
got left looking over my shoulder,

waiting for the knock?

Fred?

Fred!

Well, the parting of the ways.
Here, you better take this.

- Don't you need it?
- No.

I'd find my way back
blindfolded after all this time.

Go straight through the woods,

follow the path through a
kissing gate, to the cottage.

Safe home.

Thanks. You too.

He got in their heads, Morse.

Ivory.

You see, cruelty's like cancer.

Starts with one cell.

And if it's left untreated...

.. it spreads, till the
whole body's riddled with it.

You've got to cut it out.
You've got to burn it out.

Kill it at the source.

Late, Fred.

Work?

No. I had to see Charlie.

In London?

Yeah.

All right, is he?

Fred?

How much?

Fred?

I'll just have to work a bit
longer than we thought, is all.

You lent Charlie money.

Without telling me?

It was all meant to be
paid back by Christmas.

But it won't be, will it?

They say that when you die, your
whole life flashes before your eyes.

- Do you think that's true?
- It's a pretty grim topic

for somebody painting their toenails.

What are girls supposed
to talk about, Morse?

Ponies? Kittens? Boys?

- I saw your boy this afternoon.
- Oh, Lord.

I told him not to get too serious.

I thought you liked him.

With the station closing down, I've
put in for a transfer, to the Yard.

Have you told him?

It won't change anything. We'll
still be able to see each other.

But we're young. We have
to put career first now.

- Haven't we?
- Oh, a... career won't...

hold you at 3:00 in the morning
when the wolves come circling.

Do they come circling, Morse?

I think I should make my bath.

If I found someone...

.. then all of this
wouldn't matter at all.

I'm just erm... clocking off, sir.

Ames is holed up at an all-night drinker.

Nights have got it covered.
I'll be back on first thing.

Right.

Wait a minute.

This... undercover case.

You've nothing to worry about.

I'm not daft. I've got eyes.

Morse is as decent as they come.

Trewlove's got her head screwed on.

All this with Ames and Nero, I
need your mind on the job. Right?

Not fretting over nothing.

You can count on me, sir.
I won't let you down.

- I know. - Goodnight, sir. - Night.

Right. Lights out, you squits.

Win?

I'm going to Rene's.

- But you're coming back, Win?
- 27 years I've stood by you,

for better or worse, and you do this?

- It was our future.
- It was family.

And what am I? You didn't even tell me.

- I was trying to protect you.
- Protect yourself, more like.

I may not say much, but I am not stupid.

And you're not the only one
round here who's got secrets.

- Your own daughter...
- What about her? What about Joanie?

The taxi.

I'll run you. Win...

No.

The boys have got double chemistry with
Bodnar, so I'm gonna head into town,

see if there's any more on
this Rowntree post mortem.

- Will you be all right?
- I can take care of myself.

Yes, I'm sure, but odds are
we've still got a killer

on the grounds somewhere. All right.

- It's Mrs Morse, isn't it?
- Shouldn't you be in form?

- It's a free period.
- Double.

Bunking off to the cemetery
for a smoke, is that it?

- Join us if you like.
- I don't think my husband would approve.

He's not here, though... is he?

I thought it was off limits to boys.

We're not boys, Mrs Morse.

We're Praetorians.

- And a graveyard pass is
Praetorians' Privilege. - Oh, I see.

- Why don't you come with us?
- No, thank you.

- Perhaps you don't trust yourself, Mrs Morse.
- I beg your pardon?

With three strapping Praetorians.

You're stoned. Your eyes have gone.

Be on your way before you
get in serious trouble.

You could be the one
in trouble, Mrs Morse.

These woods aren't safe.
No-one to hear you scream.

No-one heard Rowntree, did they?

- On your way, Clunchfist. - Mr
Bodnar. - That's a month's privs.

What are you doing out in the woods, sir?

- Or shouldn't we ask?
- You too, Rackway.

The gatehouse lodge is that
way, sir. If you're lost.

And, Mr Queach, that's all three of you.

You shouldn't threaten us, sir.

- What? - Qui non nobiscum
adversus nos est, sir.

Go on, back to school,
before I fetch the Headmaster.

- You all right?
- Thanks.

- It's a good job you came by.
- I'll walk you back.

I'm still awaiting results
on the boy's blood,

but examination of residue found
in the nasal cavity and sinuses

suggests he had... snorted heroin.

Snorted heroin?

Almost 100% purity.

Very likely stopped his heart.

Where the hell did he come by that?

There's something wrong with Ivory's story

that he drove Rowntree to the station.

Why would he take him, if they'd
had a physical altercation?

So, you saying he didn't take the boy?

- Then somebody else must've seen him.
- No. The reports are all second hand.

All we've got to go on
is what Ivory told people.

Well, why would he say he'd
taken him if he hadn't?

Information Room from Fancy.

The boy can't have known
what he was doing?

Snorting that amount of pure
heroin is tantamount to suicide.

- Sir?
- Hm?

- Everything all right?
- Ah, Thursday.

Anything from the post mortem?

It's drugs, sir, with the boy. Heroin.

Heroin? Good Lord.

Anything further on Ivory?

- You've no idea who left that
shirt in your desk? - No, sir,

but something about the number of
stab wounds rings a bell somewhere.

23, to be precise, according to Dr deBryn.

Is the number important? A
frenzied attack, surely.

Yeah, all right, matey.
Stand to. We're on our way.

George says Ames has just pulled
up outside Nero's snooker hall,

- mob-handed and carrying.
- Could be another attempt on Nero.

Very well.

Draw arms. My authorisation.

Armed police! We're coming in.

♪ Let's pretend that we're together...

Shut that racket off.

Some kind of showdown.
Nero's boys and Ames' mob.

Nero.

Drop the gun, Eddie.

Oh... It's empty, anyway.

Easy, Eddie. Save your breath. Don't talk.

- It wasn't me.
- What do you mean? What wasn't you?

Oh, no. Ambulance! Here!

George? George, can you hear me?

- What's he doing here?
- George!

I told him to stand to.

Come on! George, come on!

Leave him, Morse.

Morse! There's nothing you can do.

He's gone.

Morse.

Is it true?

Who?

- A statement will be made.
- Off the record.

I can't.

Just get his age right.

He was 23.

- Bloody mess, this is.
- All right, Sergeant.

Seems to have got caught
in the crossfire, sir.

- What was he doing here?
- Tailing Cromwell Ames.

Some sort of pow-wow gone
wrong, would you imagine?

Takeover bid, sir. I think
that's what Ames came here for.

Gentlemen. I'll start
with George if I may.

We don't want him lying in such company

a moment longer than he has to.

- Have his people been notified?
- Devon, sir.

Local boys are dealing.

What's going on?

All the driver would say was I
had to come back to the station.

Morse?

No.

Not much of a haul to
lose one's life over.

Maybe Ames was expecting more.

Sir.

"Mr J I..." Could that be John Ivory?

"Ros..." Rose Cottage.

"Co..." Coldwater School.

- Ivory was involved with Nero?
- Thursday?

The two local CID that
died in the car crash.

Was that Nero? Maybe they
were getting too close

to any drugs business
between him and Ivory.

So, hang on... Division
sent us undercover...

.. with only half the story,
and knowing that somehow

Nero was involved. So
they put us all at risk.

- I didn't know.
- We should bloody know.

If Division had put
their cards on the table,

I might have played things differently,
and George could still be alive.

There's nothing we can do now. Everybody
involved in the wretched business is dead.

Go home. Get some rest.

That's an order.

Hell of a thing.

It took guts to go in after Cromwell Ames.

What was he hoping for? Arrest them all?

Whatever he was hoping for,
it doesn't much matter now.

You'll give him respect. He's due that.

He was due another 50 years.

A wife. Kids, maybe.

Do you still love this place?

- I should get back to the school.
- It'll keep, won't it?

- Today at least.
- No, it won't.

How are you?

I thought you didn't like guns.

Mr Blackwell's orders, sir.

If I won't fire them,
I've got to clean them.

Stanlow...

is there anything you want to tell
me about Rowntree and Mr Ivory?

- Like what, sir?
- Anything.

Why did Rowntree hit him?

I don't know, sir.

Unless there's anything else,
sir, I've got to get on.

- Clunchfist.
- Adsum.

- Dakin.
- Adsum.

- Gaudibund.
- Adsum.

- Morris Minor.
- Adsum.

- Nero.
- Oh, he's left, sir.

The police killed his father, sir.

- Queach.
- Adsum.

- Rackway.
- Adsum.

- Summerhead.
- Adsum.

- And Zec.
- Absum.

Very good. Thank you.

Right...

Is everything all right, sir?

Is this some kind of a joke?

Joke, sir?

First the shirt, and now this in my desk.

- Mr Ivory's desk, sir.
- It's no joke, sir.

- It's serious, sir.
- It's deadly serious, sir.

Oh, what? Some kind of a threat, is it?

I'm to believe that one of
you have killed Mr Ivory?

I'm supposed to be afraid? Is that it?

- Well, I'm not.
- Are you sure about that, sir?

Quite sure. Where did you find it?

- We couldn't tell you, sir.
- We didn't put it there, sir.

- Are you quite well, sir?
- Perhaps you should get some air, sir?

All all right? Tough
morning at the chalk face?

Well, you know. Oh. My
wife said she saw you

- in the woods with some
of the boys. - Ah, yes.

She was under the impression
some of them were high.

Is there much of that here? Dope?

Well, Ivory used to go on holiday
to Marrakech every summer.

I think he used to bring
a bit back with him.

What? He sold it to the boys?

He's got to underwrite his
losses on the gee-gees somehow.

- I thought you were up in school.
- Ivory's wallet. Left in my desk.

- Who by?
- We'll have it fingerprinted,

- but one of the boys would be my guess.
- Think they killed him?

- It's what they want me to believe.
- There's no evidence for that.

No, but there were 23 stab wounds.

According to Suetonius,
the Roman historian,

Julius Caesar was stabbed 23
times by the conspirators.

The boys are studying
that as a school play.

- Coincidence?
- Maybe.

In any event, there's a business
card for Magdalen Cabs in here.

He was in it with Nero, then. No doubt.

According to one of the teachers, Ivory
had been selling hashish to the boys.

- How'd he come by it?
- He travelled every summer.

The Roman coast of North Africa.
Marrakesh. Tangier. Then Istanbul.

Where he's made a
connection to the heroin?

Packages bound for a respectable
schoolmaster in England?

- Perfect cover. - Thursday...
If I might have a moment. - Sir.

Morse.

Well? What is it?

What couldn't you say over the telephone?

I've been going over ballistics.

I took three bullets out of George Fancy.

Not one of them matched any of the
weapons recovered at the crime scene.

Sir.

Morse. Good heavens.

I wondered if we could,
erm... if you had a moment?

Yes. Yes, of course.
By all means. Come in.

Mrs Bright is out, I'm afraid.

Bridge circle, I think. Please.

May I offer you a drink?

I generally have a
lime-juice and gin about now.

- Yes. Thank you, sir. - Right.
- Well, I'll just go and wash my hands.

Dulcie. Our daughter.

Sweet little thing.

The tropics.

So what's all this about?

Well, ballistics prove that Fancy was shot

by someone who got away
from the snooker hall, sir.

His killer's still at large.

Presumably that will all be...
passed to the investigating officer.

Well, he was our colleague, sir.

And we will mourn him.

Cowley is closing. It's out of our hands.

Nothing to be done.

So, there we are.

Your very good health.

Fresh lime, you see.
That's the trick of it.

Dad?

Mum said about the station,
that you were off mostly.

Thought you might go an early tea.

You've come all this
way on the off chance?

A good walk never killed anyone.

Well, there's nothing in.
I've not been bothering.

You know you can be expelled for that.

My father sits on the Board of Governors.

He won't sit there long if it comes out
you've been using drugs on school property.

He doesn't give a shit
about me or anything I do.

Maybe not. But I'm sure he
cares about his own reputation.

I've given the wallet to the
police. They already have the shirt.

I'm sure they'll want to interview you.

If you were involved in
Ivory's murder, that's life.

You won't go to prison first. You're
too young for that. But borstal...

Believe me, it's nothing like Coldwater.

No Matron. No privs.

Just bigger boys who don't play nice.

Who'll be the squit, then, do you think?

We didn't do it.

But you did have the shirt and the wallet?

- Yeah. - The police will
be taking prints off them.

It wasn't like that. We just found them.

Where? Where did you find them?

By the kissing gate.

Well, how about that?

She'll come back. She's just...

Well...

You're a good girl, Joanie.

- I don't know about that.
- I do.

Your mum said...

Well... Not in so many words, but...

.. whatever went on with you last year...

.. it's none of my business.

I shouldn't have interfered.

But it's what fathers do.

It's what you do.

Well, I can't help that.

You're my little girl.

But it's your life.

I've just missed you being
in mine this last 12 month.

Oh, Dad.

Who's this now?

Morse. Everything all right?

- Well? - One last
decent collar, you said.

- Have you seen Stanlow?
- No. He should be here by now.

He has a solo in the second hymn.

I saw him in the dorm, sir.

- What are we looking for?
- I don't know,

but somehow Stanlow's
the key to all of it.

Sir.

I've seen that equation
before on his rough book.

Isn't that the Rifleman's rule?

The calculation which enables
accurate firing, uphill or downhill.

And that's Coldwater, isn't
it? Chapel. Playing field.

President Kennedy. Lincoln. Dr King.

- Bobby Kennedy. - Ivory told the
boys to study the lives of great men.

But what if Stanlow learnt a
different lesson altogether?

50 years ago... at the 11th hour,

of the 11th day, of the 11th month,

the guns of the Great War fell silent.

It seems impossible now, at
a distance of half a century,

to believe a conflagration
that claimed 18 million lives

should have started with a single shot.

The base of the fire arc
looks to be the clock tower.

I'll warn them at the
chapel. Keep them inside.

Morse!

- I don't
- In case you need it.

Stanlow!

Don't. Look, I know you're angry.

- You want to hurt someone.
- [Stop! Take cover!]

Get back at them for what they've
done, but this isn't the answer.

It will only make things worse.

If you want to take it
out on someone, shoot me.

Come on, son, put the gun down.

No-one's gonna hurt you
any more. I promise you.

- No!
- Don't!

This is finished. It's over.

- Is my mother here yet?
- Not yet.

I need to ask you about Mr Ivory.

The nickname he gave you, Dak.

It wasn't for Daktari, was it?

We've just come from seeing Stanlow.

- How is he?
- Giving up his secrets.

Seems... Ivory had a nickname
for him. Called him Dak.

Turns out it's a Hindi word
meaning "post" or "mail".

In the days of the Raj, the dak runner

brought letters from the
plains to the hill stations.

Kipling celebrated it in a
poem called The Overland Mail.

Ivory was big on Kipling.

- Is that right?
- Mm. Ivory called Stanlow Dak

because the boy ran errands for him.

Like Rowntree before him, he
picked up his whisky and cigarettes

from the village shop. But
he also delivered letters

between Ivory and the
Headmaster's daughter.

Ivory was cheating on
his wife with Ravenna.

But you knew all this, as
your admissions book confirms.

The day Ivory disappeared, Stanlow
was taken with a sudden fever.

He was here and couldn't deliver
the message from Ravenna to Ivory.

So he sent you instead.

Who was it you followed to
their usual meeting place

at the kissing gate? My
guess would be Ravenna.

Too risky to tail Ivory from the pub.

So you waited till they were done.

Ravenna came back to the school.

Ivory went back, through the only
route he could, to Rose Cottage.

And that was your chance.

He was a monster.

I mean... Blackwell's an animal.

A brute. But Ivory was the Devil himself.

Filling the boys' heads
with evil, hatred, cruelty.

They're just children.
Drugs, for God's sake!

They thought they were so grown
up, but they didn't have a clue.

What put you on to it?

I was a nurse, don't forget. I
know what an overdose looks like.

- Rowntree?
- He came to the infirmary.

He was white as a sheet, sweating...

heart going ten to the dozen,

and he thought he was going to die.

So Ivory was using Rowntree
as the main supply channel

for drugs to the boys?

Until he became a liability.

Or got too big for his boots, maybe.

Whatever the case, Ivory got him expelled,

and then he started in on Stanlow...

.. and I couldn't let
that happen again. I...

I had to protect them. I
had to protect them all.

Where is Ivory, Mrs Seymour?

Where he belongs.

- Doctor.
- .. Septic tank.

What a treat.

Better start going through the motions.

Do you think Ivory did kill Rowntree?

Maybe the boy got it into his head
to try a bit of private enterprise.

Could it be that's what they fought over?

Might just as well have been accidental.

If the kid didn't know
what he'd been taking...

maybe he mistook one thing
for another. Who knows?

Perhaps Ivory finds him at the cemetery,

already overdosed on
heroin meant for Eddie Nero.

He hides the body, then
comes up with a story

of having dropped him at the station.

A policeman? Well,
Blackwell was right, then.

You were never a teacher.
I should have known.

- How's that?
- You didn't look beaten enough.

Happiest days of your life?
Not much happiness here.

I'd hoped to see you as the first
female officer in Cowley CID.

But our loss will be the Yard's gain.

You'll do great things
there, I'm sure. Great things.

Thank you, sir.

We shall all miss you.

I don't suppose there's
anything one can say...

I'm so frightfully sorry.

Good luck, Constable.

Thank you for always looking out for me.

It has been... a privilege.

I didn't know if you'd be in.

I just... came to say goodbye.

Well, I'll see you at the funeral.

The boy I liked is dead.

I'm not gonna sit and look at a box.

Life is for the living, Morse.

Don't waste time.

It's all we've got.

I'm no good at goodbyes.

Well, then, let's not say it.

Say not the struggle nought availeth

the labour and the wounds are vain.

The enemy faints not, nor faileth,

and as things have been, they remain.

If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars.

It may be, in yon smoke concealed,

your comrades chase even now the fliers.

And, but for you, possess the field.

For while the tired
waves, vainly breaking,

seem here no painful inch to gain.

Far back through creeks and inlets making,

come silent, flooding in, the main.

And not by eastern windows only

when daylight comes, comes in the light.

In front the sun climbs slow, how slowly.

But westward, look, the land is bright.

At least we gave him a good send-off.

- We can say that.
- Yes.

We can say that.

Nicely done, Morse. Your poem.

Gentlemen. Miss Frazil.

Would that you'd never
had to write such a thing,

but it was a very fine obituary.

He seemed a decent young man.

No platitude knowingly unexpressed.

It's what we say, Morse, when
we don't know what to say.

But we do know what to say. We
just can't stomach saying it.

What we want to say is,
"Thank Christ it wasn't me."

That's the last of it, is it?

Yes, sir.

Well...

When I arrived here three years
ago, I had such high hopes.

What an ignominious end
I have led you all to.

- I shall resign, of course.
- Sir...

No, I failed him. I failed my men.

The station gone.

My brightest and best
cast to the four winds,

and all is...

.. brought to ruin.

Bollocks to that. I won't hear it.

We might be down, but we're not out.

I'll be damned if this is how it ends.

We'll have justice for him, sir.

- Find who shot that bullet. Whatever
it takes. - Jim's right, sir.

They can call us Thames Valley
till the cows come home,

but wherever we wash up, we're
city men, each one of us.

- To our boots. To the last.
- So few.

- Enough to give him justice.
- We'll find the bastard, sir.

- Your word on it.
- My oath.

- And mine.
- For George.

That's that. Well, good luck on Monday.

- Any news on your posting?
- No. No, not yet.

What happened to the
Winchester over the fireplace?

Turning in your tin star?

How did Mrs Thursday take it?

She married a copper.

Things happen.

Didn't seem the time.

With Fancy.

I should've given him more time.

You gave him what you could. He knew that.

I could've been kinder.

Who couldn't?

Right...

I thought handshakes were for goodbye.

Hello.

I just came round.

I can see.

I just thought...

.. maybe if that offer
of a coffee's still going?