All language subtitles for Hamish Macbeth s03e03 The Lochdubh Assassin.eng

Auntie Jean!

Auntie Jean!

I can't think of anything else.
Frankie?

I've got everything I need. Sorry.
And sorry about phoning Tusker.

But he's my best pal, Isobel.
I had to tell him.

I know. Come on.
Everything's gonna be fine.

Get down.

I'd say the birds have flown, Tam.

Check this.
That's young Frankie, right?

That's probably his best pal, right?

Get to the point.

Who did you trust most
when you were that age?

- My mother.
- Apart from your mother.

My best pal. Tam there.

Right. So if Frankie Bryce
has took the powder,

what's the betting he told
his best pal where he was off to?

- Andy might be right.
- Sure I'm right.

And I think I know where we can
lay our hands on the best pal.

- Where?
- The community centre.

This is ping-pong night, right?

Nothing changes, eh?
We're staring at social collapse.

A national insurance stamp
is rarer than a penny black.

And what's the solution?
Let them play ping-pong.

Actually, there's more to it
than just ping-pong, Tam.

That place has got... personal computers,

so the kids can learn keyboard skills.

And what are they gonna do
with these keyboard skills?

See if the best pal
does know anything.

Sorry to put you
to this trouble, Isobel.

- I didn't know where else to turn.
- Jean, it's no trouble.

Hamish'll know what to do.

Oh.

Chop that up
and I'll make some bellinis.

Hey, d'you mind, by the way?

You're no making my bellini
with that knife.

What's up wi' it?

I think Joe's objecting
on the grounds of hygiene, Tony.

Remember the last time
you chopped up with that knife.

Joe and Andy are right.

There could be microscopic traces
of the late Mr Bryce on that chopper.

And even microscopic traces
of that thieving scumbag

could taint the bellinis.

Here, use this.

Can I ask something?
What is a bellini?

Champagne and a slice of peach.

You get them
in Harry's Bar in Venice.

Oh, Venice?
I only ever go to Benidorm.

(All) Benidorm?

Have I said something wrong?

Do you not think Benidorm's
just a wee bit, well, tacky, Andy?

Not to mention the type of people
that go to these "resorts".

I were thinking
about going to Tibet this year.

- You're welcome to tag along.
- Tibet? What are the beaches like?

I don't know, but I'll bet they'll
no be as crowded as in Benidorm.

Hey, we've got company.

- Morning.
- Morning.

Some rig. Thought I'd take a look.
Hope you don't mind.

Not at all, Constable.
I'm Tam Flood.

This is Tony McCreary,
Andy Glass and Joe Scrimegour.

Pleased to meet you.
Constable Macbeth.

Macbeth, eh? To be or not to be,
that is the question.

Matter of fact, that's Constable Hamlet.
He's up in Ullapool.

Mind if I take a look?

- Morning, Lachlan.
- Alistair.

She's a beauty, all right.

Thanks.

So, you're based
in this Lochdubh, then, Mr Macbeth.

- That's right.
- Bet you get a lot of tourists here.

- Thousands.
- I thought so.

And they have a nice time, so long
as they don't cause any bother.

My colleagues and I
are businessmen, Constable.

I knew what you were
the minute I saw you, Mr Flood.

- Come on, Jock!
- (Dog barks)

Hey, Tam, I think he knows who
we are and what we're here for.

I think you might be right.

But... unless he can prove it,

there's nothing he can do.

- What d'you think it is, Auntie Jean?
- How should I know?

Just wait and see.

Did no one ever tell you
it was bad manners to stare?

Sorry?

You've been staring at Jean.

- Must have been day-dreaming.
- Mm, I'm sure you were.

There.

Is this some sort of
Highland custom, Mr McCrae?

You give people
boiler suits as presents?

This is no ordinary boiler suit,
young Frankie.

This is the company uniform
of McCrae & McCrae,

funeral directors
and general handymen.

You see, this used to belong
to Lachie Jr.

I've had to take a wee tuck
in the sleeves and legs, like.

But I think they'll fit you just fine.

And look, here.

"& Partner."

That's you, Frankie.

Partner? Are you saying
I'm in employment, Mr McCrae?

- If you want the job.
- Want it? I'm a working man.

- Is this permanent, Mr McCrae?
- The job's yours, boy.

- For as long as you want it.
- Auntie Jean.

It's a generous offer, Frankie.

But we don't belong here.
You know that.

We're guests, that's all.

Ach, maybe your auntie's right
to be cautious about Lochdubh.

This is a fine area to live in,
but it does have its drawbacks.

There's always been a chronic
shortage of women, for one thing.

Unless a man's quick off his mark,

he'll spend many a long night
in a cold bed

before blessed death
comes knocking at his door.

- Is there something wrong, Father?
- What?

You look as though
you're about to have a fit.

- Lachie Jr...
- (Phone)

McCrae & McCrae
funeral directors.

Everything's fine.

I'll let them know, Hamish.
Thank you.

Hamish. They're here.

- Oh, thank you, Barney.
- Major.

Oh, how's your history
of Lochdubh coming along, Major?

Slowly, Agnes.

Hemingway said writing
was like trying to break rocks.

If he'd wanted his rocks broken,
he should have tried the grocery trade.

No, no, no.

The records say that a skirmish
took place on Cairn Hill after the '45.

- I have never heard of that place.
- Me neither.

Just about every hill's
got a cairn on it.

No, you'll probably find that Cairn Hill
is the one without a cairn.

How so?

Your old Lochdubhians had
a highly developed sense of irony.

The one hill without a cairn
they'd call Cairn Hill.

Makes sense. I've often wondered
about the Devil's Humph.

- Don't forget Wee MacPhee.
- Precisely, TV John.

- A perfect example.
- Who the hell was Wee MacPhee?

Wee MacPhee was a bad hat, Barney,
a very bad hat. I've heard thing...

(Pub falls silent)

Yes, gentlemen?

I'd like four malts, please. Single.

Your very best.

- Barney.
- Hello. I'm Andy.

What's your name, by the way?

- He's a terrible man for the ladies.
- Really? This should be interesting.

His friend says he's a terrible one
for the ladies, Esme.

- Esme?
- (Others) Ooh!

Ignore them.
Esme's a lovely name.

Can I buy you a drink, Esme?

That's a very kind offer, Andy,
but one I'll have to decline.

I'm here with Mr Campbell.
We're stepping out together.

- Stepping out?
- (Rowdy laughter)

And which one of these gentlemen
is Mr Campbell?

Uh, that would be me, sir.
Rory Campbell, local grocer.

- My card.
- I don't want your card, Mr Campbell.

I want Esme. Now, what are you
going to do about that?

Do? I'm not going to do
anything at all.

I'm what they call a '90s guy, Andy,

and if Esme prefers you to me,
then so be it.

She is her own person.

And you are very pretty.
Don't you think he's pretty, Major?

Yes. Yes, these looks would have
been very popular in the desert.

Those long desert nights when we
soldier boys exchanged body heat.

Aye, Major. Andy would have had
lots and lots of friends.

(Speaks Gaelic)

(Man speaks Gaelic)

- What are you saying about me?
- They're saying you're pretty, Andy.

And you are. I've never been
attracted by superficial qualities.

No, I've always been drawn more
by a man's sexual energy.

Oh, Andy.
If sexual energy generated light,

Mr Campbell here
could illuminate a small city.

- (Locals) Whoo!
- Do you get my drift?

Agnes, what does your instinct tell
you about Andy's sexual energy?

That it couldnae put a faint glow
in a 40-watt bulb.

(Locals laugh)

(TV John laughs)

- Shut it, you.
- I'm sorry, sir.

But I have this image in my head
of Rory there

wired up to the national grid.

I wasn't laughing
at you or your friends.

You're a liar.

I'll do you in.

You laugh at us once more,

and I'll do you in.

Do me in?

Can anybody smell pomade?

- (All) No.
- No smell of pomade?

Oh, well, that's good news for me.

And I'm afraid it's bad news
for you, sir. Here, have an egg.

- (Locals clap)
- And another.

Oh, bravo.

- And another.
- (Locals) Ooh!

- Well, blow me. It's not working.
- Let the man go, John.

I'll let him go, Hamish, when he
apologises for being a nuisance.

Mr Flood.

(Muffled) I'm sorry.

There you go, John. You heard
the man. He said he was "torry".

- Agh!
- (Locals laugh)

(TV John speaks Gaelic)

You and your friends
wait in the car park, Mr Flood.

And you wait in the Land Rover.

Where did he get 'em from?
The eggs? Did anybody see?

- Must have had 'em in his pocket.
- Shut up about the eggs!

- What about my nose?
- What about my manhood?

I don't know, Tam. You said if we put
pressure on these people,

they would hand over
Jean Foley and the boy.

- Aye, so you did, Tam.
- I know what I said! And it'll work.

How can we pressure people that
aren't scared? They're all loonies.

"There's no smell of pomade."
That's no rational talk.

We've had a setback, right?
So... we up the ante.

We do one of them in.
We'll do in the egg man.

You and Tony
come back here tonight.

You follow the egg man
and then you do him in.

Sorry about the nose, Mr Flood.

- Forget it.
- Very wise.

I do my best to keep the peace
in this town, but I'm only one man.

You've got my sympathies.
They're all nutters.

Probably because they're all
related. One big, happy family.

What?

- Inbreeding.
- There's a lot of that around here?

There's cars in this town with hair
growing under the mudguards.

Don't upset these people.

Those men are criminals, Hamish.
Drugs, extortion.

Shut up.

Where are we going?

Cnothan.

(Jean) I met Isobel Sutherland
in Glasgow, Mr McIver.

I'd helped set up
a community centre.

Isobel's paper
sent her to cover the opening.

We became friends.

When Flood came after us,
Isobel suggested we come here.

- What do they want, these men?
- Money.

Frankie's father worked for Flood.

- Until he went and ripped him off.
- For £208,000.

Next thing, I'm at school
and my dad turns up.

I mean, we hardly even know each other,

on account of him
being, well, a dodgy character.

Imagine my surprise when he says
he's off to live in Amsterdam

and shoves this money at me
for my future.

£104,000.
Tell him what you did with it.

I knew where that money
came from, Mr McIver.

It was ground out of people, so I
couldn't use it for personal things.

I'm wondering what to do
when Tusker says...

- Who's Tusker?
- Tusker Gray. My pal.

We were doing this project on charities

when Tusker says
we could do something practical.

Like make charitable donations.

52 donations, Mr McIver, of £2,000,

to 52 different charities.

I know £2,000's not a fortune
but it's the thought that counts, right?

Oh, absolutely.

Anyway, it seems that Flood and
his crew caught up with Mr Bryce.

Found out
what he'd done with the money.

Hamish suggested Cnothan
instead of Lochdubh.

I phoned Tusker to say I was
coming to Lochdubh to lie low.

I couldn't just leave him, Mr McIver.
People worry, especially Tusker.

We've been pals for years.

Hamish.

There you have it. So we don't go
prodding these people with sticks

and we don't go twisting their nose.

- Did you really twist Flood's nose?
- I did.

- Then they'll come after you.
- Good.

Because if they do, they'll be leaving
you alone, won't they?

- You're not scared?
- No.

Why should I be scared
when there's no smell of pomade?

- Pomade?
- Hair oil.

But that's a wee something that
I don't like to go into too deeply.

Just let Flood come.

Just let them try.

- Don't miss.
- I won't miss.

Find somewhere outside
to stash the guns.

When this is done,
we'll certainly be questioned.

They might even hit us
with a search warrant.

- What happened to your wife?
- She died, Frankie.

Shortly after Lachie Jr
was born.

- Same as my mum, only I was ten.
- Oh, I see.

That's when I went to stay
with my Auntie Jean.

What exactly will I be doing
as a partner?

Everything and anything, boy.

Flexibility, you see. That is the key
to success in modern business.

- D'you think I'll be strong enough?
- I'll have you built like a gorilla.

That boiler suit
looks far too big for him.

If Frankie doesn't mind,
why should you?

- Unless you're a wee bit jealous.
- He is my daddy, not Frankie's.

And that was my boiler suit.

It's almost like
I've never existed for him.

- What's wrong?
- Nothing.

Maybe you'll come to regret
taking us in.

I could never come
to regret that, Jean.

- Lachie seems quite taken.
- Yeah. Smitten's the word.

Aye.

Is there nothing
you can do about Flood?

If he steps out of line, he'll be
sorry he ever heard of Lochdubh.

Meanwhile, everybody
just nods and smiles.

Can you rely on John McIver
to nod and smile?

Yeah. Why not?

I just didn't get
that impression from him.

Stick that in there. Rory,
get it in the thing, for God's sake.

Barney, come and help here, man.

- What is this, Mr McCrae?
- Preparation, young Frankie.

For the annual McLopez
sherry-tasting extravaganza.

- You mean everybody sips sherry?
- Some of us sip.

Others guzzle till they're
too blootered to remain upright.

(Whispers) Do him.

Do him.

(Gunshot)

John! John!

- What's the matter?
- I heard a...

I thought I heard a shot. Are you OK?

I'm perfectly fine.

Make yourself a cup of tea.

I'm just overhauling some weapons
for the major.

He's barely a minute to himself with all
this historical research he's doing.

I did hear a shot, John.

Poachers?

I've been sitting here thinking, Hamish.

Thinking about Flood
and those other rascals.

Thinking they probably murdered
that wee boy's father.

Aye, probably.

They'd do the same
to the boy and his auntie

if they found out the money was gone.

- Right again.
- No, it's not right, Hamish.

We know what they're capable of,
but we do nothing about it.

What do you want me to do?
Beat Flood about the ears?

- The guy's done nothing.
- So we sit and wait until he does?

- Wait until they harm the wee boy...
- No, no, wait a minute.

Flood doesn't even know they're here.
Why should I alert him to that fact?

We play it calm
and nobody gets hurt.

Anyway, I've already
had a word with Flood.

I told him not to mess with you lot.

I told him you're all dangerous
on account of, um, inbreeding.

Sorry.

Oh, no.
There's an element of truth in that.

Not the inbreeding, of course,
but the dangerous bit.

Take Wee MacPhee, for example.

- Wee MacPhee?
- Aye, a bad, bad man, Hamish.

Just like Flood. Well, the villagers
lured him into the bog

and that was the end
of Wee MacPhee.

Wee MacPhee's Bog.

When was that again?

1897.

As recently as that?

Oh, nothing much changes
round here, Hamish.

Who do they think they are,
Flood and his men,

that they can go around
snuffing out lives, huh?

Who the hell do they think they are?

Aye.

Where's Tony?

He done him in.

The, uh, egg man.

Done him in.

I had him in my sights.

I was ready to shoot.

Then he disappeared.

Next thing he's in the woods
along wi' us,

flitting about like a dark shadow.

Next thing there's a shot.

Tony's mincemeat.

- Where's Tony? Where is he?
- I've got him In the boot of the car.

Should somebody not say a few words?

I'll say one word.

Revenge.

Do you hear? Revenge!

(Echoes)

Tam...

I've been thinking
about that egg man.

You know, they called him
TV John in the pub.

TV. That could stand for
terribly violent.

I don't care what it stands for.

Anyway, I'm more violent than him.

And I'll prove it.

I'm gonna do him in personally.

That man was going to Tibet this year.

And now look where he is.

(Phone)

(Ringing continues)

You buried him with his mobile?

He's still got his mobile?

- You want me to dig him up?
- Dig him up?

That's sick.

Ach, whoever it is'll ring off.

But what if it rings again, Tam,
and some passing shepherd hears it?

- Do you see any sheep?
- No.

Why would there be a shepherd?
I'm not exhuming Tony McCreary!

- Come on.
- (Ringing continues)

Hiya.

- Can I help?
- No, I'm just finishing.

Trying to keep the place
in some kind of order.

I'm thinking of trying to rent it out.

Or sell it.

- I'd just rent it out.
- Yeah?

Oh, sure.

- So how's Glasgow?
- It's good.

And possibly
about to get even better.

I've got a couple of interviews
coming up, so fingers crossed.

Did you come round
for a particular reason?

Aye, um, just to say
I had a word with John,

and you were right, he's talking tough.

Going on about this Wee MacPhee
character. Do you know the story?

Yeah.

Well, I'd better be off, then, eh?
Keep the peace.

Lasagne, cod pie and Lancashire hotpot.

I can personally recommend the hotpot.

And, uh, three individual fruit pies.

- Microwavable?
- That's right.

Now, something for suppers?

- We don't have suppers.
- No suppers?

I never go to bed
on any empty stomach, no, sir.

I always make sure Esme's had
a damn good feed beforehand.

(Chuckles)

- D'you get it?
- I get it.

- I think it's disgusting.
- You do?

Oh, well. Just trying to brighten your
day. Tell me something. I'm puzzled.

Why buy three of everything
when there are four of you out there?

- Economy drive, is it?
- (Snorts)

Thank you, Mr Campbell.
Thanks for phoning.

Thanks, Rory.

Maybe they're getting fed up, Jean,
drifting away one at a time.

I think that's too much to hope for,
Lachie.

Well, it's a possibility.

Of course, if they are giving up,

it would mean you and Frankie
can move on.

I suppose it would.

But only if you want to, of course.

I mean, as far as I'm...

Well, you can stay as long as you like.

- People might talk.
- Let them.

You'd be my guest, that's all.

Not that I haven't noticed you in...
that way.

But I am capable of self-restraint,
I can assure you, Jean.

Oh.

Oh, yes.

Well, you know what?
I'm not sure I want that, Lachie.

To be just a guest, I mean.

No. No?

Why shouldn't I notice you in that way?

You mean, you've noticed me in...
in that way?

Oh, yes.

That's the hearse washed, Lachie.
Anything else I can do?

You can wax it if you like, Frankie.

Will that take him long?

Oh, some time, yes.

Then go and wax it, Frankie.

Rifle.

I should have done it myself
in the first place.

Look.

My God, Lachlan!

My God!

(Nurse) Excuse me.
I think you left this at reception.

This is my fault.

I should never have come here.

If that were true, how come
I'm still glad you're here?

Hamish said they might get away
wi' it. Do you think they will?

No, I don't, Frankie.
Not if I have anything to do with it.

Go and get your Auntie Jean. Tell
her I want to have a word with her.

Thanks for the lift, guys.

We'll be here if you want
to speak to us again, OK?

- You shot the wrong man.
- Anybody can make a mistake.

- It's the effect we're after.
- They'll have us in again.

Of course they will. Look, what's up?
We knew what to expect.

Things have a habit
of going wrong for us in this place, Tam.

It's just that... I'm beginning to feel
there's something about this place.

Joe's right, Tam.
And remember what that cop said.

These people are all retards and
we've topped one of their number.

- One of their relatives!
- Stop going on about this place!

(Phone)

(Clunking)

It's him.

I want to give you your money back.

Didn't I say it was the effect
we were after? Didn't I say?

That's a tree. Go there in an hour
and you'll find your money.

But if I'm not back with Auntie Jean
in five minutes,

you'll never see your money.

Feel free. Let me tell you this,
young Frankie Bryce,

I'll be staying put,
and if anything goes amiss...

Grab it!

I heard a phone ringing, the sound
was coming from under the ground

and when I cleared the earth away,
I found him.

I answered, this man said he had
gear to shift, I said I was the major

and he just rang off.

Hamish, why wouldn't you
let me report this?

Because I think I know who did it.

Pass us the phone, Major, eh?

No. No change, Hamish.

TV John? He left ages ago.

He wanted to show Jean
and Frankie Wee MacPhee's Bog.

Sounded a bit daft to me,
but I just suppo...

Hamish? Hamish?

No more than three sheep abeast.

This is it!

A goat! Goat Hill!

Joe. Look, Joe.

The tree. The tree.

I'm sticking. Give us a hand.

Joe, I'm sticking as well.

- Agh!
- Sinking!

Oh, isn't that a sight for sore eyes?

Drop the guns.
I've always wanted to say that.

Get us out of here! We're sinking!

Of course you are.
You're in the middle of the bog, man.

Frankie, you had something you
wanted to say to these gentlemen.

It was just that when the swamp water
starts bubbling up your nostrils,

I would like yous
to think about something.

- There's no money cos I spent it.
- (Jean) I'm afraid he's right.

You can't leave us here. We'll die!

- (Jean) Mr McCrae might die.
- That wasn't us. That was Flood!

- Flood did that!
- Can we go? I don't wanna watch this.

Oh, I think so, Frankie.
I think we've heard enough.

You can't do this! It's barbaric!

What kind of people are you?

(Phone)

- Joe, Andy.
- Tam, they're doing us in, Tam.

Hurry, Tam. They're doing us in!

(John) Hamish!
I was just coming to get you.

No, no, no, John. I'm coming to get you.
Who was in the car?

Scrimegour and Glass, but
we've taken care of them, right, Frankie?

- Right.
- Just like you took care of McCreary?

- I don't know what you mean.
- I've got a dead body on my patch!

- Where are the men from the car?
- In Wee MacPhee's Bog, Hamish.

You... You actually think you can go
about committing mass murder?

Mr Macbeth, they're not dead,
and Mr McIver did get them to admit

that Flood shot Lachlan.

- That was the whole idea.
- No dead?

Wee MacPhee was over six foot tall,

but, being ironic,
the villagers called him wee.

Because he was tall, about as tall
as Scrimegour and Glass.

MacPhee touched the bottom
when the bog reached his nostrils.

So the villagers left him there
till he starved to death.

John.

What about McCreary?

I never touched the man.

Andy, I think I can feel something, Andy.

I think it's a root or something.

It's something to hold onto.

(Screams)

Daddy?

- Where the hell am I?
- Daddy.

Well, of course I'm your daddy.

- What is all this?
- Daddy.

You've been shot.

Shot?

In Lochdubh?

- Never.
- Daddy.

Where's McIver
with that whisky he went for?

Joe! Andy!

They'll pay for this.

I'll make them pay!

(Bog bubbling)

(Scrimegour) They left us to die
out there. This is hell. I'm in hell.

I told you what they were like,
Mr Scrimegour.

I demand to be taken to Inverness.
We're serious criminals.

- We should be in Inverness.
- You won't be going to Inverness.

No, no, no.
I mean, what have you done?

Flood pulled the trigger. You'll be
here for a couple of weeks.

- Weeks?
- We were with him. They'll come for us!

- The villagers.
- I'll do my best to keep you safe.

You're only one man.
You said it yourself.

Tell me where Flood is
and I'll see what I can do.

We don't know where Flood is.

Listen,

if I admit to a serious crime,
will they take me to Inverness?

- It depends how serious it is.
- Oh, it's serious.

I shot Tony McCreary.

- What?
- What?

Accidentally.
Flood sent us to do in McIver.

I had him in my sights.

But when I tried to pull the trigger,
it wouldn't budge.

Tony and me started back.

I thought maybe I'd forgot
to load up,

so I broke open the shooter,
but it was loaded.

Then when I snapped it shut...

Tony?

You feel stupid, don't you,
shooting an associate?

So I came back and I said McIver did it.

Is that serious or what?

Aye, that's serious.

And I thank you for your honesty,
Mr Scrimegour.

I'll see what I can do about getting
you boys sent to Inverness.

Apologies?

Apologies.

You're a lucky man, John McIver.

Lucky?

I wonder.

You see, I have this recurring dream
of my own death, Hamish.

Just before the darkness comes,
there's a smell of pomade.

Pomade? Mm-hm.

There was no smell of pomade
when they tried to kill me.

The gun didn't go off because
that's not how I'm meant to die.

So if there's no strong smell
of pomade, you could,

I don't know, jump in front
of a train and not get killed?

I don't know, but I am not
about to put it to the test.

Pomade.

Here we go!

That's brilliant.

Major, lovely to see you.
I'm glad you're here.

Try this.
Plenty more where that came from.

It actually tastes like sherry.

I'm thinking of naming it
El Lachlan this year,

in honour of your father, Lachie Jr.

- It's terrific, Mr McLopez.
- That'll speed up his recovery.

Well, you tell him
we were all asking for him.

I'll see you later.

- So, what do you think, Frankie?
- I think I'm gonna enjoy it here.

- Jean?
- Oh, I think so.

- Hi.
- Hi.

- Not dancing?
- Nah.

You worried about Flood?

No, he'll be miles away by now. I hope.

I've found them, boys.

Just like I said I would.

Easy, Tam.

Easy.

Easy.

(Trigger clicks)

(Trigger clicks)

(Rumbling)

Oh, no.

(Rumbling, music stops)

(Music resumes)

- Cheers.
- Cheers.

(FIood) Help!

Somebody!

Help!

Somebody!

Help!

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