Original subtitles

[Muhsin] Mr Temple, what is it I am doing here?

Am I investigating a shooting, a crime?

[Temple] Iraq needs Iraqi policemen.

Detectives.

[Muhsin] In houses like this there is a crawl space.

[Parodi] Clark Kibbert. A US citizen.

[Muhsin] One dead man was delivered inside an SUV.

[Temple] I need to show that me and my department are clean...

above board and competent.

[Muhsin] I will work for them for as long as it takes to make you well.

And for as long as it takes me to find Sawsan.

[theme music]

Douglas, thank you for this.

Not a problem.

[Temple sighs] I hate being beholden to the fucking US Army.

You know where we're going?

Hundred per cent.

[Temple singing]

D'you need a wingman?

Be fine.

We'll wait till your inside then we'll circle the block.

Marvellous.

[Muhsin] Why would she be driving a mercenary's SUV?

Why would she do that?

Will she live?

They will want to question her.

They'll make sure she lives.

Does it worry you what she will tell them?

What names will she give?

Do you feel responsible?

Are you responsible?

I'm not an oppressor nor an invader from a foreign land.

I'm not here to take or deny

and I'm not here to make soldiers of students.

Is that what she is, a soldier?

What is her name?

Zahra.

And her English name?

Is she Laura or Candy?

Laura.

Where is my daughter?

I know you can help me.

What I don't know is why you refuse to help me.

[tense music]

Frank, come back with something useful.

We lost a good man.

[doorbell buzzes]

[doorbell buzzes]

Professor, may I come inside?

I'm not here for small talk and tea, clearly.

I want to know what the hell is going on.

[Rashid] What is it you're talking about?

Zahra fucking Boustani is what I'm talking about. May I come inside?

She was employed by me on your recommendation.

And when I'm asked about her that's exactly what I'll say.

You ask for students with a good command of the English language.

-Tell that to the Yankees. -That is what I provided.

-Fifty names... -What you provided, I believe, was a cabal.

[Temple] Look it up. What you wanted was information.

A sight of the Coalition and how it ran.

That's what I will suggest. Zahra was your spy.

I'd like you to give me the names of everyone

Zahra Boustani was close to on campus. Male and female.

[Rashid] Zahra is a student to me. Nothing more.

-I have no access to her diary. -What's happening here?

Am I looking at some kind of terror cell?

-How many more of these attacks can I expect? -I can't help you.

Should I have all those sharp objects removed from my office?

Should I banish all of your people?

They're not my people, they're your people.

Have each one of them arrested, interrogated?

Are they complicit? What the fuck is going on?

Hungry, big fella?

Go clean the bathroom.

It's fine, Omar. Thank you.

Mr Temple has simply discovered the size of his task

is greater than his ability.

Can I see her?

Why?

She will need advice. Access to help.

Professor, I have to tell the Americans something.

They'd like a house to raid, an arse to kick.

Who are Zahra's friends? Who is she close to?

Does she have any political leanings that you're aware of? If so, what?

How can I find her family? Does she have a family?

Her given address turns out to be the university

and that, as far as I'm concerned, is you?

-I cannot help you. -I don't believe you.

You must know who she is... [Temple continues indistinctly]

Is she a one-off or are more of your students a threat to the peace?

-Am I allowed to see her? -No, you're not.

Then I would like you to leave now.

She is directly or indirectly responsible

for the death of a Coalition employee. This will not go away.

Whereas women in Iraq seem to disappear all the time.

Who is Zahra Boustani and who are her friends?

She is someone who knows exactly who Frank Temple is and what he stands for.

[Temple] As God as my witness,

-this will not go away. -I would like you to leave now.

I can only assume you're part of this insurgency?

Omar!

The sake of your God forsaken country,

I will not allow anything to disrupt my work.

[automatic gunfire]

[car horn honks]

Aah!

[tyres screeching]

[gunfire continues]

Filthy bastards!

-Bastards! Fuck! -OK?

Fuck! Yes, I'm fine.

Every fucking neighbourhood has got its own militia.

Any good?

[heavy panting] Nothing.

Bitch.

We gonna take no for an answer?

Your medical people can look after this.

Do not want the fucking US military knowing where I've been.

Sawsan!

Sawsan!

Sawsan!

[kettle hissing]

[echoes of children shouting]

[girl] How does it work, Baba?

[Muhsin] My gun works by keeping it safe inside its holster.

All day long.

[Sawsan] Are you afraid, Baba?

Are you afraid, Baba?

[tense music]

[machine bleeping]

Sawsan is alive.

I have seen her from a distance.

But she is alive.

[indistinct chatter]

Captain, may I join you?

Sure.

[sighs]

What'd you want?

To help.

To assist with the Iraqi girl.

The driver of the SUV.

The deliverer of the dead man?

What is her thinking? Where is her mind?

The only person she was trying to kill was herself.

The guy inside the truck was dead. Fact.

Yes, this is complex, I believe.

-Did Temple put you up to this? -No.

That's the kinda thing he would do.

This is not Temple's offer, it is mine.

I'm prepared to do this without his permission.

You're prepared to piss him off?

You will need an Iraqi.

Inspector, I already got an Iraqi.

I talk, he translates, word for fucking word.

Her name is Zahra Boustani.

Correct. And she worked in Temple's department,

which I love, by the way. You sure you're not covering his ass?

You now have one dead Iraqi, do not forget him,

and two dead Westerners, including Mr Kibbert.

Both of them killed outside the American safe zone.

The mercenary could have been on patrol but Kibbert?

How was he killed? Where was he killed?

Why? Who saw him last?

I could knock on doors

and ask questions that you never could. Never.

Allow me to question Zahra Boustani in private.

What's in it for you?

Hmm?

Why so eager to become a full-on collaborator.

That's what you call it now, right?

My daughter's health.

Your deal is with Temple and now you're sitting here.

-Have a nice day. -Captain Parodi.

An SUV approached the checkpoint from the left.

The guards opened fire from this position here,

firing at the left side and front of the SUV.

And yet, there were many bullet holes on the right-hand side.

Which most probably occurred when the vehicle was jacked, taken.

-Taken from where? -I have no idea yet.

I have an idea.

It's a 9mm.

I found it outside the safehouse.

If it's the same calibre of bullet that killed the mercenary,

then my idea is possible.

You're eager, Inspector Khafaji. I'll give you that.

-For me? -For you.

Temple would like you to wear it.

Here in the office?

It should fit. I have a good eye.

Miss Ford, could I ask you to obtain

the name of the Iraqi man found in the safehouse?

-I could ask. -Thank you.

And, erm,

could I ask what you talking to Captain Parodi about?

No sinister reason. Just plain curious.

I was asking to be allowed to interrogate Zahra Boustani.

Question her on behalf of the Iraqi Police Service.

Temple might be able to arrange that.

Something he'd want to be involved in, I'm sure.

Because she worked here?

Yeah.

In this department?

At times, yeah.

Did you know her?

By sight.

You never spoke to her?

She's a similar age. Similar dreams, I would guess.

I, erm...

Don't really talk to any of the local workers.

Not, talk, talk.

Could I see her file?

Tss! You need to ask Temple.

Where is he?

Well, his diary says he should be here.

We should speak with her before the military threatens her with torture.

I believe she intended to kill herself.

Not harm anyone else. She's vulnerable.

[Megan] A lot of the Brits they moved here

after their hotel was hit by mortar shells.

The call it, Ocean Cliffs.

[knocking]

Not answering his phone. Not at his work, not at home.

Is this usual?

No, but,

he is allowed to be someplace else, I guess.

[horn honks]

Sir, We were looking for you.

[Temple] Something that can't wait?

[Muhsin] I would like to question Zahra Boustani.

I'm not convinced Captain Parodi will do anything more

-than frighten her further. -Further?

Have you spoken to her already?

Not that I know but she will be afraid.

And we do represent the Iraqi Police Service, sir.

We do.

But she's classed as a military prisoner.

And a Coalition employee.

And Iraqi.

Let me change and think about it.

I agree. I think we should question her.

Front foot. She worked in our department, we have a right.

A responsibility.

We need to know the how,

why, what, where, when. Everything.

And Parodi?

Will object.

Feel a very loud email coming on.

To your desks.

[Parodi] To be clear, I will hear every word.

I will be recording every word.

-I will pour over every word. -Is this necessary?

Start at the beginning. Get her to confirm her name.

-We know her name. -Get her to confirm her crime.

Only then do you move onto how, why.

Let's get this fucking charade over with.

[machines bleeping]

[translator] She said you are one of them.

At times life becomes too much.

He's reciting a poem.

What's she say?

She began with...

She was raped and then because of that she died.

That the man in the SUV raped a girl.

They're all the same.

He's now talking of war crimes.

Zahra...

Kibbert.

[translator] She refuses to talk now.

-You ready? -Yes.

Three, two, one.

[machine whirring]

What do you feel?

It's like nothing is happening at all.

What's happening is

a door is opening

-and the sun is peeping through. -Mmm.

Inspector, sir?

Here.

What you asked for earlier.

-Hey. -Hi.

How you feeling?

-Fortunate. -A-huh!

Good. Well, good luck.

Thank you, Miss Ford.

What is it?

A name.

A line of investigation.

[woman on tannoy]

He's got it.

[shouts]

[traffic noises]

[indistinct chatter]

[woman soldier] You! You there, Khafaji.

You're needed!

[helicopter whirring]

[Parodi] We're heading to the Al-Rasheed hotel,

specially the sports bar. You'll go inside and question the staff,

behind the bar, kitchen, front of house and you will tell me everything.

-Temple will not appreciate me being here. -I could care less.

I was under the impression that this is what you wanted, to be involved?

The pay cop, your mercenary,

he was killed by a 9mm bullet.

From a CZ 75 pistol,

which was a standard issue handgun of the Iraqi military.

Do not repeat that information.

Like you, I believe Kibbert is a central figure.

He was beaten before he was killed, either for the hell of it or for information.

Apparently, he was involved with an interpreter.

A young female.

-D'you know her name? -No.

Temple might. Should.

-You were right about one thing. -Which is what?

Temple's gonna be real pissed.

[helicopter whirring]

[indistinct chatter]

[translator] Americans who dishonour our daughters

right here in this bar.

You have seen it?

He's talking about Khafaji's police file.

Sir.

He has just threatened to kill a man.

Which fucking man?

['Bad Moon Rising' plays live]

Soon, Inspector Khafaji.

Very soon.

[man singing]

Coke, please. No ice.

All is calm.

Candy.

[tense music]

Where the hell have you been?

I was detained by Captain Parodi.

Expand.

He took me to the Al-Rasheed hotel

and asked me to talk to the local staff

regarding Kibbert.

You should have refused.

Is that possible?

[sighs]

Should have contacted me.

-You work for me. My department. -Sir.

When I'm ordered into a US Army vehicle it is difficult to refuse.

-I did not choose to go... -You work for me.

Next time you tell him to fuck off. Understand?

Yes, sir.

You have files to examine. Go.

What did you discover?

At the hotel.

That Mr Kibbert was attracted to an Iraqi woman

who called herself Candy.

D'you know of her?

Who the fuck are you to ask questions of me?

I am your employee.

Temple's looking for you.

He found me.

[hip hop playing]

Had enough, Megan?

Meeting a girlfriend for dinner in about 15 minutes.

Enjoy. Where?

The hotel.

Fuck it. He can give me a lift there.

Mind? Had enough, too.

Bright and early tomorrow, Khafaji.

Make up for the hours lost today.

-I'll be first at the gate. -Wearing uniform?

I hear your daughter's started dialysis?

Yes.

Good.

Let's hope it goes well.

-Bright and early. [clicks] -See you tomorrow.

See you tomorrow.

[tyres squeaking]

[tense music]

[indistinct chatter]

I'll be two minutes.

-[Evans] What? -Can't find my key.

-You got a spare? -[Temple] Inside.

Expensive education, was it?

Break a window.

[rattling]

Station carries spares. Take me there.

[gun cocking]

[theme music]