All language subtitles for Endeavour.S05E04.720p.HDTV.x264-ORGANiC

'And now, returning to
competition after some years away,

all the way from the Stuart-Hargreaves
Dance Studio in Bicester,

couple number seven: Frederick
and Winifred Thursday.

Here's looking at you.

The motion before this house is:

"This house believes
in an end to immigration

and the repatriation of all settled
immigrants to their ancestral lands."

This motion is not about
the colour of one's skin.

It is about national resources
stretched to breaking point

by an influx of immigrants to
this green and pleasant land.

It is well to be careful who
we designate an immigrant.

The black man has been here
a lot longer than the Angle,

the Saxon, the Jute...

.. the Norman, the Huguenot.

Long before many of your forefathers
walked "this green and pleasant land",

it was the Nubian who stood
watch on Hadrian's Wall.

The motion before this
esteemed house calls for

all settled immigrants to
return to their ancestral lands.

So, that being the case, I
have to say, "After you."

The regiment!

The regiment!

That's her!

Disgraceful!

Get out, you racist!

You go back!

Nazi lover!

Oh!

White enough now, eh?

Whoa, whoa, whoa! She's
with me. She's with me.

- [A disgrace!]
- That's what you get!

You're mad. Do you want to get arrested?
What are you... What are you doing?

- What am I going to do with you?
- What are you going to do with me?

Regional quarters.

Semi-finals next, Fred.

Don't put them there.

I won't put 'em there. When's that?

September.

And we'll need to look to it
if we want to make the finals.

- Well, it's finding time.
- You'll have the time, won't you?

You've done your bit, Fred, and more.

If anyone deserves a rest...

- [Thanks. All right, thanks.]
- [Yes, all right, that's fine.]

Left, right, left, right, left, right...

Left!

Ah, Thursday.

- Sir.
- As you were. As you were.

I want three volunteers to escort a
civilian party up to High Wood at 1100.

- They're from a fashion magazine,
I believe. - I'll do it, sir.

Very well. Pick two other
men from your section.

Carry on, Corporal Thursday.

- Anything?
- All quiet on the Western.

The word is out for Cromwell Ames
from here to Brum and all points else.

Not a peep. Not a whisper.

- What about Eddie Nero?
- Lying low.

If there is a term for it,
it's "gone underground".

Lull before the storm, maybe?

Hey, what happened to you this
morning? That's the third day in
a row a stranger's brought me in.

Oh, something came up.

- Everything all right now, is it?
- Oh, yeah, fine.

- Lunch?
- I can't today.

I've got statements to take from this
fracas outside the debating society.

Oh, right.

Well, fair enough.

- One! Two! Three!
- Corporal Thursday!

What is that long-haired poof
doing on my parade ground?

- He's got a pass, sir.
- What bloody pass?

Oh, my eye! Would you look at that?

At about three o'clock in the afternoon,
the right horn of the Zulu Impi

debouched from a dry stream-bed
west of Colonel Stewart's position

and made a sustained attack upon the
laager lasting the best part of an hour,

before being repulsed by
Lieutenant Burnaby's bayonet charge.

Your attention, gentlemen, if you would.

This is for your benefit.

I've been given to understand that some
sort of private area would be desirable

to serve as a makeshift dressing room.

Just somewhere for the
girls to get changed.

H3, one of the buildings we use
for exercises, should suffice.

It's fairly spartan, but the
best we can do, I'm afraid.

Well, I imagine you're keen to
get on with your picture taking.

Cool.

Now, come on, girls,
not here. Get back in.

Yes, Jean. Lovely.

Great. All right. Give me
something more in the arm.

[Yes, I like that.]

A canny good skive is this call, stood
watching tarts slip in and out their clobber.

So, gan on, which one do you fancy best?

I've got my eye on that one on the tank.

- Jean, her name is.
- How do you know that?

- She does that perfume
ad, what is it? - Ooh.

All right. What are you horrible lot
staring at? You never seen a woman before?

- Not like that, Colour.
- Eyes front.

- I know what your lot are like.
- And what are "my lot" like, Colour?

Just keep your dirty, heathen mind above
the equator, or you'll have my sticky end.

Beautiful. All right,
Jean. That's great, love.

- Next change, please.
Give her a hand. - Yeah.

Howay.

Do you always work with that photographer?

Thankfully, not always.

It must be interesting seeing the
world and getting paid for it.

It's no different to you.

We're off to Germany in a couple of days.
It's the first time we've been out the country.

Well, it's all shooting, right?

You are sweet, soldier boy.

No, I know what you
want, but I'm spoken for.

So, Mr Hutchens,

you were part of this reception committee
that assaulted Lady Bayswater last night.

Her sort deserve all they get.

- "Her sort"?
- She's a Fascist.

Isn't that just everybody
who disagrees with you?

Charity Mudford was interned in Holloway
during the war under defence regulation 18B.

You've heard of her old man, presumably?

The late Viscount? The Lord Bayswater?

The leading light in the
British Union of Fascists.

For Christ's sake, Hitler
danced at their wedding!

I think she qualifies.

Yes. Super.

OK. One more.

Think of Warren Beatty. Fabulous.

Right, that's us finished, then.

- Very good, sir. Got everything you need?
- Yes, thanks. Just pack up and be on our way.

Collier.

Hold on, Jean. You're wonderful.

All right, come on, Suki.
Make yourself useful.

Le flic.

Move, stupid, you're in the sun.

- Is that better?
- Uh-huh.

I got lunch.

- What have you been doing?
- I told you, I got lunch.

- What else?
- Like what?

Like work?

Some story the agency want me to cover.

- Some coiffurier.
- I thought you didn't do fashion?

I don't.

- All right, girls.
- Ready?

Just a minute.

Sorry, Corp, call of nature.

Now what?

- Everything all right?
- Yes, I'm sorry, we're just waiting on Jean.

She forgot something. I said I'd
pick her up here on the way out.

Maybe she misunderstand and
went back to the village.

Jean? Jean!

Got something!

Here!

Miss Ward?

Jean?

The body of a young woman has been
discovered on Ministry of Defence land.

Details are thin, but she
appears to have been a civilian.

Right, sir. Whereabouts is this?

The army barracks up at High Wood.

- Your son's there, isn't he?
- Yes, sir.

In light of which, I think,

given the potential
delicacy of the situation...

.. it would be best to confine
your operational involvement

to a more managerial role,
here at the station.

Of course, sir.

Morse knows him, doesn't he, your son?

But he's not family. I see no reason
to keep him from the investigation.

It'll be all right, I'm sure.

This is Murder Town, Chief Superintendent.
It's used by the regiment for exercises.

House-to-house fighting,
sniping, that kind of thing.

The police, Colonel.

Colonel Champion CO.

My 2-IC Major Coward.

Chief Superintendent Bright, Thames Valley,
Detectives Sergeant Strange and Morse,

and Detective Constable Fancy.

Obviously, this is your show but please
bear in mind, this is an operational barracks

for the next 48 hours, at least.

48 hours?

We're readying for deployment.
In two days, we leave for Germany

and the regiment, as many of us have
known and loved it, will cease to exist.

Now, there are live firing areas and
final exercises still in progress,

so your men should not wander unattended.

- Understood.
- Excellent. Shall we?

Now, the girl's body was found in
H5, the building just down here.

- Doctor.
- Gentlemen.

Do we have a name for her?

Jean Ward, according to the photographer.
Died within the last four hours.

So far as I can tell, we have a
single stab wound through the back,

most likely penetrated the heart.

- No sign she attempted to defend herself.
- Taken unawares, then?

What had she lost? Did she say?

A purse. I found it in the woods,

whereupon I split the search
party to cover more ground,

with orders to rendezvous here at 1630.

- Well, we'll need to speak to all of them.
- We've set aside one of the classrooms.

- Who found the body?
- Oh, that was Lance Corporal Thursday.

What's all this about, Major Coward?

Police.

What are they doing on the base?

Policing.

What happened to you last night?

Never came home.

This Frenchy piece, is it?

- What's her line, then?
- Photojournalist.

- Figures.
- How's that?

Well, let's face it, with you, it was never
gonna be Doreen from the corner shop, was it?

- Bit of all right, is she?
- Yeah, I suppose. She's just a girl.

Just a girl? You want to leave some for the
rest of us. Claudine, that blondey one.

The way you've been filling your dance
card, you'd think rationing was coming in.

She's good company.

So how are we gonna run
this without the old man?

You're senior. Who would
you like to see first?

What's that?

It looks to be a cap badge.

One of the squaddies, then, sir.

After we split up, I came
down to the wash house.

I thought maybe she might
have had to use the ladies.

I called for her, but there was nobody there,
so I er... made my way back to Murder Town.

I worked my way back from the tank park.

- Mm-hm. - Thought we could've
missed her in the woods.

They're big enough, like.

She could've gone back to
our original rendezvous.

- But I didn't see anything.
- Right.

I dunno what else I can tell you.
I should've been watching her.

You haven't got eyes in your arse.

All right, that'll be it for now.
Do you wanna whistle up an escort?

Maybe YOU could.

Two minutes.

Right, so if there's anything you've
left out, now would be the time.

She was in my care.

- If I'd done my job...
- Sam, things happen.

The only person responsible
for this is whoever did it.

You've been around Dad too
long. It's rubbing off.

All right.

- How is he?
- Oh, how do you think?

- Any messages for him? - Just tell
him I'm all right, if that's allowed.

And Joanie, if you see her.

There's not much more we can
do with the light that's left.

We'll have a full team out
first thing, fingertip search.

Sergeant Major Davies, I need
this area secured until 0430.

Nobody in or out without my authorisation.

Very good, sir.

- And had you photographed her before?
- A few times over the years.

Actually, I got her started.

We did a campaign for
the Egg Marketing Board.

She was the Soft-Boiled Girl.

Your relationship was
purely professional, though?

We saw each other at parties,
gallery openings, things like that.

What DS Morse is asking is,
were you knocking her off?

No. No.

I mean... not lately.

We had a brief number,
but strictly casual.

What was she like, in her personality?

Nice. Crazy.

Mixed-up, I suppose.

- About what?
- Who knows?

What about boyfriends?

- She had a few, but nobody serious.
- Any connection to Oxford?

Her stepmother has a place
out this way, I believe.

- Stepmother? - It's not something
she liked to talk about.

I mean, Jean Ward was
just her working name.

She was the Right Honourable
Moira Creighton-Ward.

The daughter of Lord
Bayswater and his first wife.

Charity Mudford is her stepmother.

Drummer Hawkins, the boy that
saved the colours at Mboto Gorge.

That's his actual drum.

Victoria Cross, posthumous.

Oh, his parents' pride, I'm sure.

Well, the regiment's, certainly.

- You're with the police?
- Yes.

Detective Sergeant Morse, Thames Valley.

Doctor Laidlaw, on
secondment from Lonsdale.

I lecture on military history. I'm
also writing a history of the regiment.

- Right.
- Is there any news...?

I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say, but
I'm sure you'll hear about it soon enough.

Her stepmother's Lady Bayswater.

- Charity Mudford?
- Mm.

- I saw her at the debating society yesterday.
- What do you make to her?

Well, she's got guts, I'll give her that.

When you know everyone in the
room would have liked you hanged,

it takes a certain amount
of sangfroid to smile back.

Or just a brass neck. It's a
wonder she can show her face at all.

Well, she seems pretty
unrepentant. Defiant, even.

Did Hitler really dance at
their wedding, do you think?

Unlikely.

They did stop off at Berchtesgaden for a few
days on the way back from their honeymoon.

- Why did she come back to England?
- Who knows?

Maybe we all come home in the end.

Did you see Sam?

He's going to be fine.

He's in the clear.

Comes to the army, nobody's
ever in the clear, only the dead.

He's got you now, Johnny.

Says you, Mungo. Says you.

But yon's a canny bugger,
he always has been.

See, Mungo, I do have a natural advantage.

- What might that be, Colonel?
- Billiards is a game for gentlemen.

Ooh, that's fighting
talk, make no mistake.

What did I tell you?

Never trust a bloody Englishman.

Not too late tonight, Mungo, eh?

Heavy day tomorrow.

What with this girl on top of all.

Right you are, Johnny.

Night, Mac.

Johnny.

You'll take a dram for the road?

- I'm done, Mac. - Oh, you're
poor company, Mungo. Very poor.

You never used to be
such a dull companion.

Well, go, if you're going.

Prisoner and escort? Is that it?

Go to your bed, man.

You've not the tits for a wet nurse.

I'm for a turn around the square.

Get some air.

Did you see him?

No.

No, it has to be played by the book.

How do you mean?

Mr Bright wants me to take a
back seat, seeing as it's family,

but Morse saw him, said
he's doing all right.

I should let Joan know.

There's no point worrying
her without cause.

It won't be anything to do with Sam.

Single stab wound from behind,
through the intercostal region

between the fourth and fifth rib.

Pierced the posterior heart.

Penetrated to a depth of
six-and-a-quarter inches,

but there's no impression of a
guard on the skin about the wound,

so it's unlikely it was
driven all the way in.

A bayonet?

That's certainly possible.

But there's nothing else,
no funny business or...?

There doesn't appear to
be a sexual element, no,

but these bottles of Dexedrine
and Seconal were in her handbag.

Non-lethal quantities of
both in her bloodstream.

De rigueur in the modelling
business, I believe.

Amphetamines for weight loss.

- And the barbiturates?
- Take the edge off the day.

Cumulative effect is to leave one numb.

To what?

Life.

- Where's your other beret,
Private Oswald? - I dunno, sir.

- When did you see it last? - I can't
remember, sir. Up at High Wood, I think.

We're searching the area this morning.
If it's up there, we'll find it.

Lost your cap badge, Corporal?

Yes, sir. A couple of days ago.

I was gonna put it in a chitty to the QM
but, with the deployment, it slipped my mind.

To what do I owe the pleasure?

I'm afraid I have some very bad news.

It concerns your stepdaughter
Moira Creighton-Ward.

Ah. I see.

Drugs, is it?

She does have a problem.

No, madam.

Suicide, then?

- Why would you think that?
- Well, she'd attempted it before.

- It's how her mother went.
- No, madam.

She was murdered.

How?

She was stabbed.

When did you last see her?

Oh, er... not for some years.

Things had never been
very good between us.

She kept up a pretence of
civility for her father's sake

but, after Paddy died, I
didn't really hear from her.

What was she like?

Oh...

Quite mad, like her mother.

She ran up huge debts,
Bixby's club, Berkeley Square,

expected her father to
cover them, which he did.

And what about men? Did
she have a boyfriend?

Oh, yes... Yes, she'd been engaged,

in the manner of the public
convenience at Victoria Station.

Often and for short periods.

It was all attention-seeking.

She'd pick up with some wholly
unsuitable prospect for a couple of months

and then drop him.

Unsuitable in what way?

Non-U types --

Jews, blacks, Americans.

Anything to annoy her father.

And you, presumably?

I could hardly care less what she did.

But I knew, if she carried on in this way,

she'd come to a bad end.

Right. General search, moving
line abreast through the woods.

You're to be on the lookout in
particular for an army beret like this,

either with or without a cap badge.

Right? About your business.

Yes, sir.

- Keep an eye.
- Of course.

Thanks.

Integration for the nation!
Integration for the nation!

Integration for the nation!

Integration for the nation!
Integration for the nation!

Integration for the nation!

Integration for the nation!
Integration for the nation!

Integration...

[All clear!]

[Keep looking!]

- Morning.
- Matey, how'd the postmortem go?

Single stab wound. Bayonet, possibly.

There's a quantity of uppers
and downers in her system,

par for the course in the circles in which
she moved according to Dr DeBryn. You?

There's a Private Oswald says he
lost his beret up here yesterday.

Right. So, if we find it and
it doesn't have a cap badge...

Sam Thursday's lost a cap badge too.

Oi! Oi!

You in the bloody field! Yes,
you! Stand still! Don't move!

- What is it? What's wrong?
- He's in a minefield.

- He's what?
- Fancy, stay still!

What?

Stay completely still! A
soldier will come and fetch you!

Integration for the nation!
Integration for the nation!

You can't call me a racialist, not
by any stretch of the imagination.

I went to see Sammy Davis Jr in Golden Boy
at The Palladium only three months back,

so I think that speaks volumes.

Then why not take the sign down?

- If it were up to me, I would.
- It's your salon, Mrs Radowicz.

It's not as if I have anything
against them personally. I don't.

I've always gone out of my
way to treat them like equals.

It's my customers, they won't have it.

What is it they don't like?

Towels, for one.

Towels?

They don't like using the same towels.

I've told them all the towels
are sent away for a boil wash,

but it cuts very little ice.

Then there's the combs.

I can't send them away for a boil wash.

Someone said I should buy a steriliser, but
this is a hair salon, not an operating theatre.

Well, at least your customers
wouldn't have to worry about curlers.

No. Every cloud...

It's all right, you're perfectly
safe. Nothing to worry about.

- Whatever you say.
- Just follow on behind Private Jones.

Watch where he puts his
feet, see you do the same.

- Gentlemen...
- All right. All right. Thank you.

What do you think you're
doing, going out into the field?

Time and a place. Give the lad a break.

- I thought I saw something.
- What do you mean?

Out in the field.

That's what I went in there for.

There's a name inside.

It's blood.

So tell us when you last
remember having your beret.

Can't say, sir. Yesterday
afternoon, I reckon.

Right. You were late for the
transport back to the front gate.

I er... got taken short and went
into the woods to relieve myself.

- And did you have your beret then?
- I dunno, sir, it was hot.

We'd been moving stuff for the
photographer. Rails of clothes.

I must have stuck it in
my pocket for a second.

Maybe it came out of my pocket
on the way back to the vehicle.

With everything that went on,
I didn't miss it till later.

- You didn't see Miss Ward
in the woods? - No, sir.

- What about anybody else?
- No, sir.

There was nobody out there that I saw.

You were part of the search
party that went to look for her.

- Yes, sir. Me and Corporal
Thursday... - Mm-hm.

.. Geordie, Sergeant Major
Davies and Mr Carmichael.

- You didn't see her then?
- No, sir.

- It was Corporal Thursday
that found her. - Eventually.

Maybe she had got lost,
as everyone thought.

- Maybe you found her first.
- I didn't.

- Are you sure you didn't try
it on with her? - No... sir.

She wasn't interested maybe,
is that it? Did she scream?

Call out? Everyone out looking for her, it
wouldn't take long before they found you.

- You had to shut her up.
- No.

It wasn't like that.

Did she give you the glad eye? Lead you
up the garden path, then change her mind?

- That how it was?
- No.

- It was just a kiss.
- "Just a kiss."

- Where was this?
- In the woods, when I went for a jimmy.

She said she was trying to find
Murder Town and had lost her way.

We had a couple of words and I said I'd
see her back once I'd done my business.

She gave me a peck and
then something spooked her.

What was it? What spooked her?

I dunno. There was a
noise -- a twig cracking.

- But you couldn't see
anybody else there? - No.

But she was keen to make the bus.

I pointed her in the right direction, she
set off, I had a pee and I made my way back.

I swear, I never touched her.

- Ossie!
- As you were, Corporal.

I didn't do it, Corp. You've gotta
tell 'em! Corp, I didn't do it!

It's a bad business, Johnny.

It's bad for morale on
the eve of deployment.

Well, maybe that's a
blessing, Jack -- Germany.

Men'll have more important
things to worry about.

More important than the
honour of the regiment?

This time tomorrow, there won't
be a regiment. Mungo's right.

We'll be out of here and on our way. A good
soldier never looks back, Jack, you know that.

And that poor, wee laddie with
the police, Private Oswald...

No man left behind, Johnny.

So it's his beret, no question,

without a cap badge and bloodied,

as if it had been used
to wipe the blade clean.

No sign of the weapon as yet.

He'd have to be an idiot to tie
himself to the crime like that.

- Or he panicked.
- But say he's telling the truth.

Say he lost his beret in the woods
and somebody else picked it up.

- All rather fortuitous, wouldn't you say?
- Perhaps, but it's not impossible, sir.

Look, I know it's no mystery, but sometimes
the simplest answer is the right one.

- What have you got against it being him?
- Nothing, I'm just trying to keep an open mind.

- It is the job, isn't it?
- You don't think Oswald did it?

- Something spooked her.
- If you're taking Oswald's word for it.

Course he's gonna say that.

- But what if somebody
else WAS there? - Who?

I don't know, but someone that she knew,
or knew her, or recognised her, at least?

- From where?
- Pin-up, wasn't she?

- A model. - Well maybe
someone saw her in the papers.

She'd have been hard to miss.

She was well-known in society
circles, always in the gossip columns.

If anyone on that base knew her, it's more
likely to have been someone of her own class.

An officer, then?

That was the base. There's
been a development.

This was found where?

Stuffed down a drain in the wash house,
shortly after 1400 by a cleaning party.

Which consisted of whom?

Lance Corporal Thursday
and Private Collier.

Erm... right, and who has access
to the wash house generally?

Well, it's designated for the use of other ranks,
but anyone on the base could stop off there.

And could anyone have been there
during this photographic shoot?

Unlikely. Most of the base are down
here at HQ preparing for deployment.

Where is it, in relation to Murder Town?

A 10, 15-minute walk, seven-minute run.

You have to pass it on the way
back from High Wood to barracks.

Right. Well, we'll take a run out
there later, but first, I'd like
to speak to this cleaning party.

Integration for the nation!
Integration for the nation!

Integration for the nation!
Integration for the nation!

Integration for the nation!

Integration for the nation!
Integration for the nation!

Integration for the nation!

Stand up.

As you were.

Private Collier, I understand it
was you who found the bayonet.

Yes, Colonel. The water wouldn't
drain away, so Sam and me...

Lance Corporal Thursday,
Colonel, we got the grate up.

- I had a rummage, like, and there it was.
- Any questions?

Did either of you come by the wash house
the afternoon Miss Ward went missing?

Private Oswald did, sir, aye. Only to
see if the girl had gone there, mind.

Me and Ossie split up. Thursday was
fetching Lieutenant Carmichael.

I stopped by the wash house too, on my
way to raise the alarm, just in case.

Did you see anybody?

No. I gave the place a quick shufti
and then made my way back to base.

- Any of them could have put it there.
- Including Private Oswald.

He's admitted snogging her in the woods.

Maybe that's as much as
he can admit to himself.

It's Oswald's beret we
found covered in blood.

- If it turns out this bayonet's
got his dabs on it... - If.

Short of a signed confession, what more
do you want? Can't win 'em all, matey.

Look, there's only two people missing cap
badges and one of them's Sam Thursday.

- There's no way it was him.
- You didn't think he was a bit cagey?

Integration for the nation!
Integration for the nation!

Integration for the nation!

Quiet!

The sign on this door
says, "No coloureds".

- This is the language
of segregation. - Yes.

Of Apartheid.

It is bigotry. Now the
world knows what happens

when one group of human beings decide
another group is something less.

But make no mistake,
my brothers and sisters,

the road that starts with exclusion...

.. ends at the crematoria.

- Yes.
- That's right.

I've asked if anybody from the barracks
has been out to the wash house.

They're not putting their hands up to it.

- Right. - Strange is just
finishing up with the CO.

What's all that?

It's everything I could find on Moira
Creighton-Ward from the press archive.

Seems a lot of palaver to go
through, to get rid of it.

If it is the murder weapon, then
why not just bury it in the woods?

It'd be the devil's own job to find it
out there, even with a mine detector.

The place must be alive with
shrapnel and spent rounds.

Hm?

I said it seems a daft place to
hide a murder weapon, the wash house.

Unless whoever put it there
wanted it to be found.

- That's interesting.
- What?

Lady Bayswater said her stepdaughter
was engaged often and for short periods.

Look, announcements...

Hello?

- Detective Sergeant Morse, isn't it?
- That's right.

- Dr Laidlaw, this is Detective
Sergeant Strange. - Good afternoon.

- Toy soldiers, Doctor?
- War gaming.

It's instructive for officers
to replay famous battles.

I'm sure. What's today?

Battle of Cannae, Second Punic War.

Are you familiar?

HE will be, I expect.

Just a treat. The regiment moving out.

All feels rather... end of term.

We wanted to talk to you about
the girl that was killed here.

Oh. I understood you arrested
one of the privates for it.

He's helping us with our inquiries.

I'm not sure what I can
tell you, I didn't see her.

- It was Jean something, wasn't it?
- No, no, her name was Moira Creighton-Ward.

I believe you were engaged to be married.

Ten years ago.

- Ah.
- Wait a minute, you're...

You're saying the girl up at High
Wood, that was... that was Moira?

Good God!

When did you see her last?

Not since she quit her degree.

- You never wondered what happened to her?
- It was one mad term. We were very young.

- In any case, it would never
have worked out. - Why? Why not?

I suppose because I was always a rather
dull academic and Moira was... wild.

Where were you between four
and six yesterday afternoon?

I was here, trying to
complete my regimental history,

in order to present it to the CO at
the flag-lowering ceremony tomorrow.

Anyone vouch for your whereabouts?

I saw Colonel McDuff in the officers'
mess at around five o'clock.

Look, really, I am very happily
married with two children of my own.

So, you see, if I'd married Moira,
I would never have met my wife.

You can't hold on to people.

- All done?
- For now.

Wanna get this bayonet back so
Forensics can take a look at it.

Having a word with Private Oswald,
see what he's got to say about it.

I'll take one last look around here, see if
Colonel McDuff can confirm Laidlaw's alibi.

I'll see you back at the station.

Morse?

I thought you had your man?

No, he's not been charged yet.

So, what's this, you're
still looking for proof?

Something like that. You?

What was it you didn't tell me, Sam?

She kissed me when I walked
her back to Murder Town.

Just a kiss, or... something else?

Just a kiss, but it was my fault.

I should have been watching her,
and now Ossie's in the frame.

He didn't do it, Morse.

All right.

Whatever happened, I'll get to
the bottom of it. I promise you.

Integration for the nation!
Integration for the nation!

- Integration for the nation!
- That's her!

- Stop her!
- Integration for the nation!

- Integration for the nation!
- Stop her! Stop her!

Integration for the nation!
Integration for the nation!

- Whoa, whoa!
- Integration for the nation!

[Get back!]

- Yes?
- You'd better come, sir.

I found this bastard
creeping behind the lines.

Easy, Jack, easy. There's a
good chap. He's one of ours.

One of ours?

- He disnae know the password.
- Colonel McDuff!

You will release the prisoner
into my charge unharmed.

That's an order!

Colonel.

Your dagger, Jack.

Jack!

Major Coward, escort Colonel
McDuff to his quarters.

Yes, Colonel. Come on, Jack.

If you've ever wondered what a hero
looks like, you've just met one.

Colonel McDuff is the
bravest man I ever saw.

What's the matter with him?

Korea, Imjin River.

4,000 of ours against 27,000 of theirs.

A night action.

Close quarters, wave after wave.

A third of the battalion
were killed or wounded,

including Mad Jack McDuff,
who took a mortar round.

When the order came to
fall back, he stayed behind

to give the rest of us a chance.

Had two years in a Chinese prison camp.

If he drinks too much and sleeps
with the light on, then, so be it.

- He's earned the right.
- Yeah, but all the same...

No, Sergeant Morse, there's
no "all the same" about it.

The regiment takes care of its own.

♪ Dool for

♪ The order

♪ Sent our lads

♪ To the Border

♪ The English for ance

♪ By guile won the day

♪ The flow'rs of the forest

♪ That fought aye the foremost

♪ The pride o' our land...

All right, Bennett, get yourself
a brew. I'll take it from here.

Well, first things first.

Are you all right?

Are you sure?

Division are looking for scalps.

They wanna make an example.

Everyone there's gonna be charged.

- No one meant for it to get out of hand.
- Nobody ever does.

Then, the next thing is
to get you out of here.

Well, aren't you gonna
charge me? I was there.

No, you weren't and you
haven't been here, neither.

- I've given my name and address.
- You let ME worry about that.

Come on.

All right?

I couldn't see you before.

I wanted to, but it had to
be by the book, being family.

Your mum's been worried
half out of her mind.

- They arrested Ossie Oswald.
- I know.

He didn't do it, Dad.

Well, it was him or you, Sam,
and I know it wasn't you.

Ossie's a good bloke.

You wanna know how many
good blokes I've nicked?

Good or bad don't come into it.

- We just follow the evidence.
- He's in my section. I know him.

- If you won't do anything about it, I will.
- No. You're gonna keep your head down,

and you're gonna ship over to
Germany and leave all this behind.

- I'm not a kid anymore, Dad.
- I know that.

You know, when I was at school,

I used to get it in the playground.

ACAB.

"All coppers are bastards."

"Not my Dad," I'd say, "He's
one of the good ones."

Times I'd get a thumping.

You never said.

No. You know why?

Because I was frightened of
what you might do to them.

- Give Mum my love.
- Sam...

One of the good ones.

I really believed that.

Are you one of the good ones?

Thanks for the lift. There was no need.

Maybe we should go for a drink.

You know, when you're feeling up for it.

You're persistent, aren't you?

Faint heart never won fair lady.

You don't even know me.

I'd love to, though.

All right.

What? Really?

- Cold feet? - No. No, no, no,
no. Just... surprised is all.

I'd take advantage if I were you.

Oh.

- Ow!
- Oh, I am so sorry.

I'm s... I'm so sorry.

- I'll see you at work.
- Sure.

Sam's out the firing line. He's off
the hook. You don't have to worry.

I knew it'd be right. He's a good boy.

Not a boy any more.

He's a man now, his own man.

He's got responsibilities.

You'd be proud of him.

Oh, I'm always proud of him.

They grow up so quick.

One day, the biggest decision
in the world is wafer or cornet.

The next, it's life or death.

Shame we can't all get together for a
nice tea, you know, all four of us...

.. before he goes off to Germany.

Plenty of time for that when he gets back.

Nine months?

You could always get the
coach down there, see him.

- All that way?
- Why not?

Else fly.

What would I want with flying?

And anyway, what do you mean, "You could"?

You mean WE could.

It's not as if you shan't have time.

Well, what about work?

What about it? You'll
be done with it by then.

You're not changing your mind, are you?

No, no, of course not.

Morse'll be all right, if that's
what you're fretting about.

Yeah, I know he will.

This last go round... he's doing well.

Well, then. Remember what we said?

You only get one life.

Love and rain.

How English.

I don't think we can claim
it all for ourselves.

People have been doing this
since there's been people.

Before, even.

Back when we were... whatever we were.

Quelle philosophe!

They probably lay on branches...

.. wrapped in each other's arms,

staring out at thunderheads
breaking over the savanna.

Safe in that one, brief moment...

.. from the vast awfulness of it all.

If he was as gloomy as you, I hope
she kicked him out of the tree.

- Gloomy?
- Yes, my God. Some men...

- Some men?
- .. are so gloomy.

Of course, that's the part you hear.

Seriously, why do you do
that, like someone died?

In my case, someone usually has.

I don't know.

They say you're never so alive
as when you're close to death.

- Well, maybe the reverse is also true.
- Jesus! It's just sex.

It's not love.

I know.

It's good to be clear.

Cos one day you'll be gone and...

.. I suppose I'll miss you, that's all.

We said "no regrets".

How French.

Degage.

Again?

Oui.

Left! Right! Left! Right!

Left! Right! Left! Right!
Left! Right! Left! Right!

Left! Right! Left! Right!
Left! Right! Left...

Steady! Halt!

Anything further on this
soldier we've got in custody?

Yes, sir. Strange put it to him that we
recovered what looks to be the murder weapon.

Rattled him, apparently.

- Oh, in what way?
- Went back on his original statement.

Said that after the initial kiss, she
suddenly pulled away from him, gave him a slap.

- Was there anything else, sir?
- Actually, there was one thing.

I was talking to Mrs Bright
last night about Charity Mudford.

She told me she'd heard a rumour doing
the rounds of Mayfair in the late '30s,

Lord Bayswater wasn't Moira
Creighton-Ward's father at all.

She say who was?

The gossip was... some young
officer in the South Oxfordshires.

I imagine Lady Bayswater
might have an idea.

All come to her now, I suppose?

What will?

The estate Moira inherited
from her mother.

The first Lady Bayswater, she
was the money, apparently.

No other living relatives.

When probate goes through, Charity
Mudford will be a very rich widow indeed.

Died between midnight and two o'clock.

Single shot entering the head just
beneath the orbit of the right eye

and exiting along the lambdoid suture.

Nine-millimetre.

Cartridge just there.

Automatic pistol by the look of things.

Who found him?

Sergeant Major Davies had what's left
of C-company out for a run first thing.

I've ordered an inventory of all side arms on the
base, to see if there are any unaccounted for.

Is that likely?

All firearms are kept securely
under lock and key in the armoury.

Any of us would have to sign in the guards
room and there's been no withdrawal.

At least not last night, in any event.

- When, then?
- Two days ago.

Colonel McDuff withdrew a side arm
for a session on a target range.

A Browning L9A1.

- Nine-millimetre?
- Yes.

- And where is it now?
- It hasn't yet been signed back in.

- It'll be about this photographer
laddie? - More or less.

Wanted to talk to you about Dr Laidlaw.

What about him?

He says he saw you in the officers'
mess the afternoon Jean Ward was killed.

- Can you confirm that?
- About five o'clock, would it be?

- Around then.
- Yeah, that sounds about right.

- You remember him?
- Aye.

Usually drops in about them.
Thinks I'm a soft touch.

- How's that?
- Rules of the mess.

Guests can't sign for their own drinks,
and I'm not one to see a man go thirsty.

- Now, if that's all...
- No, not quite.

You signed out a Browning L9A1
from the armoury two days ago.

- Aye. What of it?
- Where is it?

It's back in the armoury. I signed
it in straight after practice.

- No, you didn't.
- I'm sure I did.

I remember taking it back. I signed
it out, signed it in, same as always.

- Swear to God.
- Maybe you thought you did,

but, if you had, then it
would be there, wouldn't it?

You can't think I had anything
to do with that photographer...

.. or the sweet lassie.

You said yourself I've an alibi.

- Laidlaw saw me.
- Maybe he was mistaken.

No. No, I saw him, I swear it.

Same way you swore you put the
pistol back in the armoury?

What exactly were you doing creeping
around the barracks last night?

I don't know.

Gentlemen, if you've a moment...

Sometimes the men come through the wire,

if they've been out on a late
pass, missed the last bus,

rather than finding
themselves on a charge.

We repair any breaches we find, but
it's a large perimeter and pretty porous.

You put a sentry on this
till we've got Forensics out.

Yes, of course.

Looks like it puts Private
Oswald in the clear at any rate.

- For this, but not for Moira Creighton-Ward.
- You've changed your tune.

I told you, I'm just
trying to keep an open mind.

Two killers on the base?
They're connected, surely.

Maybe, maybe not.

Interesting.

Farridge was at the protest too.

So Farridge is in with these
"Make love not war" types.

I can't see how he'd find anyone
sympathetic to that on the base.

Maybe he found someone who
felt the exact opposite.

Wandering around that late at night?

- Perhaps it was Creighton-Ward's killer.
- Going back to the scene of the crime?

Could have had unfinished
business up there.

Something he'd forgotten, something he'd
left behind and could incriminate him.

OK, if it wasn't Private Oswald, then who?

Private Collier who
found the murder weapon,

Lieutenant Carmichael who
ordered the wash house swabbed

and Sergeant Major Davies who
set Collier and Sam to cleaning.

- What about this run-in you had with McDuff?
- Oh, he's a law unto himself.

He's held in high regard
by the rest of the officers.

- A regimental hero.
- Think they're protecting him?

I think that when he had his knife in my back,
its point was between my fourth and fifth ribs.

- Same as Moira.
- Mm, same as Moira, but it is textbook,

they taught us that much in Signals.

And he'd signed out
this Browning nine-mil.

But Laidlaw can stand alibi for
the time of Moira's killing.

He says he saw him in the officers' mess.

What if McDuff didn't kill the
girl, but did kill Farridge?

Two murders, two killers,
two different motives?

Division are after an answer on Oswald.

We must charge him by the end
of the day or release him.

It's under review, sir, what with the
killing of this photographer Farridge,

it looks like the killer
could still be on the base.

Fresh off the Telex from
Dr DeBryn on the bayonet.

- Thank you.
- Sir.

Constable Trewlove, good
heavens! What's happened to you?

Yesterday's public disorder, sir.

Well, bruised or not, your ready
smile brightens our drab walls

with much needed vim
and youthful freshness.

- Wouldn't you say so, Fancy?
- Yes, sir.

There's a blood match on the
weapon used to kill Moira,

- but it's not a regulation army bayonet.
- No? What, then?

According to Dr DeBryn, it
was made for the K98 rifle,

- standard Wehrmacht issue.
- German.

Well, her stepmother's certainly
got German connections.

"In and out each other's beds and at it
like knives," according to Mrs Bright.

No wonder the upper classes
are obsessed with pedigree.

Lady Bayswater.

We're rather hoping you can help us.

We've come into information that raises
questions about your stepdaughter's parentage.

Policemen! What a grubby
trade you practise.

If my husband were alive, you
wouldn't dare ask such a thing.

It may have a bearing on her death.

What utter nonsense.

This is nothing short of persecution.

Persecution? Spare me. You got off light.

Your husband should've hanged, with Spode and
Webley and the rest of his Fascist shower.

You've got the nerve to have
something like that on display.

I can't change the past. You know, if
Winston hadn't been so eager for office,

all the unpleasantness
might have been avoided.

My husband had Hitler's ear.

We could've persuaded him.

Softened his resolve.

- He wasn't immune to reason.
- Charming conversationalist, no doubt.

Actually, he was a very good mimic.

Terribly witty.

Sir, is it time for that
telephone call to the station?

I can take it from here.

The "unpleasantness" as you call it

cost me six years of my life...

.. and untold millions a great deal more.

- May I?
- Mm.

I understand, as Moira's sole living relative,
you stand to inherit the entirety of her estate.

What are you insinuating?

Money's a very powerful motivator.

To the common vulgarity.

- Now, is that all?
- Not quite.

It's been suggested Moira's father was an
officer in the South Oxfordshire regiment.

If you know who that
was, I'd like to hear it.

Why should I tell you people anything?

Another time, another place,

I could've had both of
you shot, just like that.

Snap of my fingers.

Well, that was then, this is now.

If you'd like to see a penny of
your stepdaughter's inheritance,

you will co-operate with
us fully. Is that clear?

You been with her long?

20-odd years.

Admirer of her husband, were you?

No man is a hero to his valet, sir,
it's a job, like anything else.

What was Moira like?

An unhappy girl.

She suffered terribly at
boarding school over her father.

That was here in
Oxfordshire, funnily enough.

There any talk about
who the real father was?

The real father?

I always took it to be
Lord Bayswater, sir.

It's an awful thing.

I was very fond of her... in my way.

What way was that, Mr Barker?

One that knows its place and
proper station, Chief Inspector.

But there was no love lost
between her and her stepmother?

- I'm afraid I couldn't speak to that, sir.
- But you could speak as to her whereabouts

on the afternoon following her
appearance at the debating society?

She was here, sir.

You can vouch for that?

I had some small errands to run in town for an
hour or two, but she was here when I left...

.. and upon my return.

Moira's grandfather was Commanding Officer
in the South Oxfordshire Regiment in the '30s.

Two of his favourites were regular house
guests here -- Mungo Coward and Johnny Champion.

Major Coward and Colonel Champion?

She thought it could be either of them.

Maybe the girl had heard the rumours

and took it upon herself to confront
the man she believed to be her father.

But which of them? The regiment
leaves for Germany this evening.

Unless we can identify him, Moira's killer
-- whoever it is -- leaves with them.

I've been given to understand

that you and Major Coward were regular guests
at Colonel Proserpine's family estate...

.. where his daughter
Eleanor was often staying.

I can imagine what this is about.

The question you're here to ask, I
can't answer. I simply don't know.

You admit to a closeness with Moira
Creighton-Ward's mother, then?

And you, Major?

Mungo was only ever a friend to Eleanor, a
good friend to her, and brother officer to me.

But you knew about their relationship?

Eleanor was a wonderful girl. We all
knew what Paddy Creighton-Ward was.

He took no pains to hide his
adultery with Charity Mudford.

No pains? He was brazen about it. All
London knew what they were up to.

Yes, but was he still
sleeping with his wife?

It wasn't something we discussed.

We had our time and then Eleanor said it
might be best not to see each other again,

so she ended our relationship.

Anyway, seven, eight months later, I saw
it in the papers, the gift of a daughter.

- But did she make contact with you?
- Moira? No.

So you'd no idea it was her
when she came to the base?

I suppose, if she'd used her real name,
I might have thought something of it.

Moira, you see, is my mother's name.

- Surely, that was a sign she was
your daughter. - It could've been,

but it could just as easily have been
Paddy Creighton-Ward's idea of a joke.

Let him wonder.

Now I'll never know.

No surprises as to cause of death,

but the cartridge is unusual.

If you find anything like it
on the base, I'd be surprised.

Head stamp gives its date, lot
number, as well as case metal code.

- "44"?
- 1944, to be precise.

German military.

A K98 bayonet and a pistol
both used by the Wehrmacht?

Yes.

Souvenir, perhaps.

The spoils of war.

It wasn't unknown for soldiers to relieve
prisoners and the dead of their arms.

Mr Barker, what can I do for you?

I didn't say anything when you
came, it seemed like a betrayal,

but she wrote to me -- Moira.

Had done since she was at boarding school.

That's the last.

Last few months, she's been happy.

She met someone.

I don't know if there was anything more
to it than... hero worship, I suppose,

- but he'd certainly made an
impression on her. - Who had?

Marcus.

Marcus Williams?

Marcus X.

- Is that right?
- The X represents my true name.

My ancestral African name.

Well, since we're all on first name
terms, Fred do you? This is Morse.

Please.

We'd like to talk to you about Jean Ward.

What about her?

- You were involved.
- Politically, yes.

She was looking for a cause.
Something to believe in.

- Something or someone?
- Sometimes it's the same thing,

but that's as far as it went.

Where were you when Miss
Ward was at the barracks?

Here, and later at a protest

outside a hair salon in East
Cowley that operates a colour-bar.

I have at least 20 witnesses
can vouch for my movements.

You know a man called
Farridge, a photographer?

Yeah, I know him. He does
pictures. Chronicles the struggle.

When did you see him last?

After Jean died, he
came by to tell me. Why?

Somebody shot him last
night, up at High Wood.

Well, you... you can't pin that one on me.

I was in a cell at Cowley Police
Station until first thing.

Any idea why he went
back up to the barracks?

Er...

He'd called... to say that one of
you had arrested a brother for it.

Maybe he had other ideas.

And Jean...

Can you think of anyone
who would wish her harm?

It wasn't easy for her,
being her father's daughter,

but she put all that behind her.

- Changed her name and started over.
- Something you had in common.

She was a beautiful soul.

Had she lived, her future would've been
as bright as her past was... shadowed.

I'd have seen to it.

What do you make to him? Could
he be right about Farridge?

The Convergence Of The Twain.

He goes to find out what happened to
Jean and gets more than he bargained for?

Happened since then.
Could Champion be lying?

Maybe Jean contacted him,
told him she was coming.

It's a hell of a leap from that to killing
someone you believe to be your own daughter.

Double-check Williams' alibi
for the time of Jean's killing

and take a run down to the hairdresser's.

See if you can dig anything else up there.

I'll walk back to the nick, see what Mr
Bright wants to do with Private Oswald.

Is this the man you saw
leading the protest?

To tell you the truth, dear,
I couldn't swear to it.

I'm sure their mothers can tell them apart, but,
er, don't ask me, dear, cos I'd be at a loss.

Right. Thank you.

Oh, yes. She's very popular.

The face that launched 1,000 snips.

But I'm afraid she's spoken for,
if you had any designs of your own.

How do you mean?

I've a gentleman buys all the
blow-ups of her off me when I'm done.

None of the other girls, just her.

I must have let him have half a
dozen, the last couple of years.

He just comes in every month or
two and I put them by for him.

Takes all sorts, I suppose.

When it comes to men, dear,
it doesn't do to judge.

- What's his name?
- I couldn't tell you, I'm afraid.

He wouldn't wear glasses, by any chance?

I was hoping to find Dr Laidlaw.

You and me both. He must be up
at the camp playing soldiers.

- Have you got a permit for that?
- I wouldn't have.

- Well, then, put it down. - It's not
mine, it's his. He collects this crap.

Got all sorts -- pistols,
rifles, swords, flags.

He'll buy anything as
long as it's Third Reich.

I mean, Jesus, look at this!

It's a Kriegsmarine.

I mean...

Wait.

That is nothing.

He showed me this last week.

SS.

Reckons it came out of the Fuehrerbunker.

Got it with a couple of suicide pills.

Cyanide. Kinky, eh?

And he's your tutor?

When he bothers to turn up.

What do you know about him?

Beside his interest in Nazi regalia?

I mean, is he married? Single?

Yeah, he's married. Some model, he says.

How's that?

Got a couple of kids together,
a place in north Oxford.

A model?

Yeah. Fashion. Clothes horse.

Jet set, apparently, why she
never turns up to college do's,

though how a stiff like him could
keep hold of something like that...

- He won't be coming in today.
- He might.

- He won't. Go on, get out before
I run you in. - Take it easy.

No need to come over all heavy, man.

CID. DS Strange.

- Is he in?
- Er, he's in with Mr Bright.

Trying to decide if we're charging Oswald.

Tell them not to bother. He
didn't do it. It's a frame up.

Who did, then?

Today, as we take leave of this place...

.. we remember old comrades.

We remember their faces,

their names and their sacrifice.

They were the regiment

as you are now the regiment.

"The sand of the desert is sodden red.

Red with the wreck of a square that broke.

The Gatling's jammed and
the Colonel's dead...

And the regiment blind
with dust and smoke.

The river of death has brimmed its banks.

And England's far, and honour a name.

The voice of a schoolboy
rallies its ranks.

Play up! Play up!

And play the game!"

In our hearts, we ever remember
the South Oxfordshire's motto...

.. death before dishonour.

Death before dishonour.

Give it up! It's finished!

I would have given her the world!

That she could choose a man like
that, Marcus X, a known criminal!

That's what you didn't like about him?

You could've chosen anyone, but
you chose to frame Private Oswald.

What does it matter? They're all the same!

Bloody savages! Animals!

I saw him kissing her in the woods.

You saw her kissing him.

- I know what I saw.
- She was drugged up.

Didn't know what she
was doing half the time.

Did you see her belt him?

What?

She slapped him, same way I think she
slapped you when you confronted her.

- She knocked your specs off.
- Moira!

- Oh, leave me alone!
- You came here...

Get off me!

Hit you so hard, it dislodged
the screw from the arm.

You bodged it together
with a running repair

but, if somebody found that screw,
it could tie you to Jean's murder.

You came up here last night looking to
find it, only, you ran into Farridge.

Maybe he recognised
you, so you killed him.

He deserved it!

He's part of that Marxist
shower with Williams.

Well, he won't be pointing his camera
at anybody else persecuting people. Ah!

Now, then, Mr Laidlaw,
what's all this shooting?

Doctor Laidlaw.

Easy, Jack, easy.

Medics are on their way.

They'll not take the regiment.

Do you see them, Mungo?

- All my bright boys.
- I see them, Jack.

The Colours, man.

Look to the Colours.

Save the Colours.

Oh, my laddie.

My... bonnie, brave laddie.

"I didn't do it, Corp."

- Off, then?
- Uh-huh.

You did it.

It was done.

- Dad...
- Go and join your mates

and make sure you write your mother.

Unless they've changed King's
Regs, you don't salute NCOs.

I'm not.

Dismissed, son.

That's that, then, Colonel.

Parade's end.

Our regimental record unblemished, honour
preserved, thanks to you and your men.

My boy'll be sorry to see it go.

Ah, it's just a name.

- Names change.
- That's true enough.

We began the year as City Police
and we'll end it as Thames Valley.

It's people make something what it
is, not the name it's called by.

[Thanks.]

And as long as the Colours remain and there's
one man left to see they don't fall to shame,

a regiment never truly dies.

Thank you.

Goodbye.

Over 20 years since I was
on a barracks square.

Could've been yesterday.

Nothing changes. They all look the
same, sound the same, smell the same.

Today, we have naming of parts.

Yesterday we had daily cleaning...

.. and tomorrow morning we shall
have, "What to do after firing".

But today...

.. today, we have naming of parts.

What do you reckon to Laidlaw, then?

- I think he couldn't let her go.
- Yeah, that'll do it every time.

- How's your head?
- Ringing.

If you will get yourself shot at...

You did all right.

Knew you would.

- Do you want to drive?
- Go on, then.