Original subtitles

(HORNS HONK)

(SIREN WAILS)

(ORGAN PLAYS)

CHOIRBOY: # He was despised

# Despised and rejected

# Rejected of men

# A man of sorrows

# A man of sorrows

# And acquainted

# With grief

# A man of sorrows

# And a... #

(RESOUNDING CRASH)

What the hell are you doing here? I called for an ambulance.

(TRAIN RATTLES)

(PHONE RINGS)

Hello.

Mr Philips, we have a problem.

Our side all turned up.

We produced our merchandise, but your courier never showed.

Consequently, we failed to close the transaction.

But...he's carrying the money.

I'm afraid that's your problem. You and your associate's problem.

We on this side are still prepared to close this deal

provided this time certain safeguards are agreed.

Yes. Yes, of course.

Keep calm, Mr Philips. Keep calm. That way we all win.

# Rejected of men

# A man of sorrows... #

Yep. Yep. Yeah. OK...

OK, Ron, I've nothing to apologise for.

The Spaniard thought it was his turn to get greedy...

- RON: What about Bergerac? - I had to think on my feet.

If I'd told him to forget about it, he'd have sat on it for 24 hours

and then started poking about.

- Against orders? - I know Bergerac. You don't.

Once started, he wouldn't let go till he'd sewn it up.

For God's sake, Barney, what kind of...?

I know it's a mess, Ron.

But it'll work to our advantage, teaming him with Hallowes.

We both know Hallowes is an over-educated, over-dressed tosser.

All right, all right.

But showing him Bergerac

might just bring our friends to the negotiating table.

And it might just send them running for cover. Then what?

If need be, we'll try again, work it out next time.

Philips is twitchy enough as it is.

I didn't dare tell him about Hallowes' antics.

You want that deal, Chief Inspector. I want that deal.

Have a bit of patience, we'll all get what we want.

- (KNOCK AT DOOR) - I've got to go.

- Ah, Jim, come in. - Barney.

I expect you're wondering what's going on.

- Yes. - There's a job for you.

An assignment...in London.

In London? But what about yesterday?

There's your contact.

Detective Sergeant Alan Hallowes, City of London Police.

How long am I going for?

No more than 3 days, 72 hours.

Look, Barney, I would like to know...

It was very unfortunate you blundered into that situation yesterday.

You weren't meant to.

Sergeant Hallowes will meet you at Heathrow off the 10.10.

And then what?

Then, Jim, it's up to you.

Your own instincts, your own intelligence.

What?

You're gonna have to think very fast on your feet.

About what? I mean, what am I looking for?

What's going on?

Jim, I have my orders, too - as odd to me as they are to you.

You'll just have to trust me.

- Detective Sergeant Hallowes? - Right.

Detective Sergeant Bergerac, Jersey States?

Pleased to meet you. Name's Jim.

It's cold over here, isn't it?

I suppose you're over here about that murder on Jersey,

What murder on Jersey?

Something on the grapevine.

Why is a murder on Jersey important here?

So there was a murder on Jersey.

Which grapevine did you get it on - the Met or City of London?

I really can't remember.

- But somebody IS interested? - Eh?

- Is this your car? - My heap, yeah.

- Looks more than a heap to me. - I blend into the background.

BERGERAC: Who's your boss?

You wouldn't know him. Chief Inspector Chater. Ron Chater.

- And yours? - Chief Inspector Barney Crozier.

Did he give you any orders, instructions, Chief Inspector Crozier,

before you came over here?

Liaise with you, he said. You'll know what's going on.

What did your Chief Inspector tell you, then?

How long will you be staying?

Two, three days.

72 hours.

HALLOWES: Why don't I take you to see the Tower of London,

Trafalgar Square, Buckingham Palace?

- BERGERAC: What? - The sights of London.

Ha! I'm here on a case.

You're here to see me and I'm here to see you.

So let's both go and see the sights.

The Great Wen. That sink of all our corruption.

(BELL TOLLS)

It's an amazing place, the Golden Square Mile.

Nowhere else on earth has such a distillation of power.

You can smell it.

The getting of money, eh?

Feel her, the old bitch. Like a jungle cat on heat.

You don't believe me, Mr Jersey Detective?

I tell you, try to tangle with her

and she'd have you for breakfast before you've even said grace.

- Have you noticed the churches? - Churches?

Yeah, the place is full of them.

For every tower and office block, there must be two, three churches underneath.

Christopher Wren had definite ideas

about what function churches should perform,

what effect they should have on the parishes about them.

But there's still a lot of villains around here.

At least that's what you read in the papers.

Wall to wall. Uniquely crafted. One-off designer villains.

Chauffeured in each day from Henley, Sevenoaks, Esher.

And you catch them?

I see.

I see. But...

But still no contact with Hallowes?

Right. Thank you.

WOMAN: That car's still outside, Mr Philips.

Tell him to wait, Stephanie. Wait!

(LOUD POP MUSIC PLAYS)

The dreaded Yuppies!

Young dealers and brokers, most of them not 25 years of age.

How old are you, then?

I'll never see 30 again, if you're that interested.

So busy earning, they haven't got time to spend it.

They seem to be doing quite well.

Only the best vintage champagne.

Caviar flown in fresh each day from Bekdash and Grozny, yes.

And I'm talking about really SERIOUS spending.

All this does is drain off a bit of the overflow.

There's still hundreds of thousands they're having to pack away

inside themselves somewhere,

having to shove more and more wealth into their tight, little bodies,

find ever-scarcer storage space,

until they're stuffed so fat they can hardly move, see out of their eyes.

Warehouses on legs.

Are you from the fraud squad?

You don't talk like an average policeman.

I talk like an average policeman SHOULD talk -

would if he could.

Ah!

The day is still young, James Bergerac.

What will you have? Another orange juice?

Yes.

And another Three Minute Warning for me, please.

Here.

- Let the Jersey taxpayer pay. - James!

We live in a world that runs on expenses.

When you're in London, NEVER carry any of your own money.

It could prove fatal.

Just a minute. There's someone I know.

I'm going out, Stephanie. I can't wait any longer.

James!

All right, Alan?

Who's this?

- HALLOWES: A friend. - Who are you?

Who are you?

- You being funny? - No.

I asked you who you were.

Yes. And I heard you.

Oh.

Sorry.

A friend from the isle of daffodils.

We'll be leaving, me and Harry, won't we, Harry?

What? Mm.

I asked you a question. Who are you?

None of your business.

Little bits of London colour.

Take no notice. Characters like that go with the decor.

Come on. I'm feeling lucky.

(METALLIC SCRAPING)

Proper crackling, this, Mr Philips.

You mumble it through the lips, suck it dry and still taste the bristles.

Got a farmer in Hampshire, breeds me 'em up special.

- Something's gone wrong. - What?

I've been in touch with Spain. Their courier still hasn't got back.

Maybe he took a package flight.

Hallowes didn't reach either of his two rendezvous points back here in London.

I can't hide from you the fact that I'm beginning to be increasingly alarmed.

This man Hallowes, he's not wholly reliable.

My own position is extremely delicate.

Hallowes could be anywhere, with anyone. If he can't be found...

Two of my lads ran into him up the City an hour ago.

Bunged him the usual fiver for information given.

- An hour ago? - Yes.

He's still got the syndicate's £2 million.

Hallowes has got our £2 million?

Help yourself to the condiments, Mr Philips. Apple sauce...

three kinds of mustard. Blended, mixed and ground them myself.

Just like I'm going to blend and mix and grind that little bastard Hallowes.

My lads said he was with that Jersey detective, Bergerac.

Do you think that means...?

No, I've already spoken with Crozier. He still wants the deal to go through.

Oh. It'll go through.

It'll go through.

- Got the goods? - Yes.

It's under 72 hours.

I told you they'd bite if I sent Bergerac over.

You got Hallowes taking care of him?

- Yes. Any suggestions of a meeting yet? - Mm-hm.

Thanks for showing me your manor.

I haven't shown you the half of it yet, sonny Jim.

What the hell are you doing here? Come for your cut?

What do you mean?

THIS is what I mean.

Ever seen it? I'm told they grow it under glass over there in Jersey.

- Where did you get that? - Come again?

That. You said you never carried any cash.

Back of the toilet, was it? Those two blokes give it to you?

You're on the take, are you?

Oh, my God!

I'm staring at an honest policeman.

BERGERAC: Where are we going?

- Up West. I fancy a night on the town. - With all that lovely money?

James! I don't know which monastery you've been living in all your life,

but up here in London this money is just small change -

a mere tool of the trade.

Stop the car.

- It won't help you. - What?

Phoning Crozier.

Come on, come on!

Bureau? This is Bergerac. Could I speak to Chief Inspector Crozier?

What do you mean he's not available?

What?

- He can't be contacted? - HALLOWES: Come on!

Let's enjoy ourselves!

Call.

MAN: Read them and weep. That's the way to do it.

- BERGERAC: Is that it? - HALLOWES: That's right. Just up here.

(PHONE RINGS)

- Bureau des Étrangers. - Hello. Is that you, Ben?

- Hello, Jim.

- You're working late, aren't you? - Yeah, night-shift all this week.

Do you know where Barney is?

No. I haven't seen him round for a couple of days now.

- Could you do us a favour? - Yeah.

Can you find out?

- What - ask Peggy? - No, no.

- The lock on his door... - Yeah?

It's pretty unreliable, right?

Could you get inside and see if he's left any clues as to his whereabouts?

Are you serious, Jim?

I surely am. Could you ring back? It's London, 01-248...

- Uh-huh. - ...2794.

- OK? - Fine. OK.

Oh! You still here? You must be a glutton for punishment.

(YAWNS) Kettle's on. Make yourself some coffee.

I'm afraid I'm not the best of company first thing in the morning.

Oh, yeah.

I don't know who you are, or why you're here.

But you're in the midst of the most god-awful mess.

Why were you in Jersey three days ago?

I am a small person.

I do not flatter nor fool myself, a VERY small person.

I try to take care. So should you.

I was courier for the operation.

I took money to Jersey, I brought back the heroin.

That was my only part in it, I swear.

And your payment?

The most pure heroin in the world.

This is my last shot.

But I did not commit murder.

Why should I believe you?

Because, in my sick, broken way, friend,

I am probably the cleanest, most honest person

you'll ever find in London.

You can trust me.

And the situation being what it is,

this flat, my home, is the most dangerous place in London for me...

and for you!

Doesn't that bother you?!

(BELL TOLLS)

A little haven of peace, St Peter's Courtyard, in the midst of bedlam.

Calms one, the church.

- There you are. White with no sugar. - Thanks.

Did you know that here in London,

the first three chiefs of the CID, back in Victorian times,

were each jailed for corruption?

No? But you know why, don't you?

Because there's only one serious way to solve crime,

here in London, there on Jersey,

and that is by talking to criminals.

Mixing with them, Rubbing shoulders. Horse-trading information.

They are the only people, in 90º/º of cases, who know who did it.

You have to learn to offer subtle bribes, little gives and takes,

you scratch my back and I'll scratch yours.

And all the time, it's working away at you inside...corruption.

Well, you have to learn to live with it, don't you?

(LAUGHS)

Some bosses, some chief inspectors, don't protect their new recruits.

Let them go. Deliberately push them out, hang them up in the marketplace.

Like hunks of rotten meat, cast them into the Thames,

and then every so often draw them back in again

to see what leeches and bloodsuckers and parasites

have attached themselves to this live bait.

Oh, yes, it's very good for chief inspectors' promotion,

but not too good for...

I came down from Oxford.

Joined the police.

Full of ideals.

I thought, like Christopher Wren out there,

that I could construct these light-filled little churches

amidst the darkness and disease.

Do a little good.

Anyway, enough of me.

And you? Why were you sent to London, friend?

I do not know.

Some bosses, some chief inspectors, let their detectives go.

Be VERY careful, friend.

(PHONE RINGS)

Ta.

Hello?

Yes, Ben?

I made that enquiry you asked for.

- Crozier? - Yeah.

There's a sort of doodle all over his notepad.

- What do you mean, a doodle? - NDG.

- Just that. NDG, over and over again. - Hang on.

It's Norman Deutscher Greenburg.

It's a large insurance syndicate here in the City. Thank you very much, Ben.

Alan?

Alan?

It's D750 FYF, Ben.

Can you see if the computer's got anything interesting

on the owner of that car?

Ta.

Good morning.

(TRAIN CLATTERS)

Oi!

Oi, what are you doing?

D750 FYF belongs to Geoffrey Higgins, also known as "The Butcher."

Retired from successful career in armed robbery.

No serious convictions.

- What, none?! - That's right.

He's believed to be seriously involved in...

import and distribution - hard drugs.

Yeah, hang on. Have you got his number?

Uh, yeah, 0732...

- 452901. - OK, Ben. You can go to sleep now.

Thank you.

(PHONE RINGS)

This Detective Sergeant character, Bergerac - why send him over?

Bergerac - he's harmless, Geoff.

I had to send someone or my chief might have got suspicious.

I hear he's keeping rather bad company.

Phone call...for you.

Excuse me.

- (CLOCK CHIMES) - Hello?

- Hello? - Barney.

- What the hell are you doing? - Finding out.

Using my instinct, using my intelligence, my...

Get off this line. You're off this case!

Oh, no, sir, I am not.

"Trust me," you said, eh? "A dangerous assignment."

What else was it? "Think on my feet."

That's a direct order, Detective Sergeant. You're off this case.

Do you hear me? I'll have every policeman in London after you.

- Everything all right, Barney? - Yes. Fine, thanks, Geoff.

- I've got 36 hours, haven't I? - What?

To survive in London - find out exactly what is going on.

Who was that?

Just another greedy little piggy trying to get his nose in the trough.

Funny he knew where to reach you.

You will have that money, Geoff - the right place, the right time?

- Of course, Barney. - Remember, I accept it only from you.

Not from any Tom, Dick or Harry, like last time.

(RINGING TONE)

MAN: Yeah? Hello?

I need a fix.

# He was despised

# Despised and rejected

# Rejected of men

# A man of sorrows

# A man of sorrows

# And acquainted...

# With grief

# A man of sorrows

# And acquainted with grief. #

Alan?

- Jim! - Are you all right?

Sit down.

Sit down in the House of the Lord.

Alan...

Are you all right?

(CHUCKLES)

You scared me, you know that?

When I picked you up at Heathrow, I had no idea who the hell you were.

- Where you were coming from. - I was no wiser myself.

Very clever, the person who controls you.

Yes. I'm beginning to realise that.

But we can get him.

Get the whole rotten lot of them.

- At least, you can. - Me?

I'm afraid I gave out.

Needed one more fix.

Contacted my masters.

They laced my dose.

So I'm both very all right

and dead within 30 minutes.

- What?! - Ssh! Quiet.

A bit of reverence for my favourite Christopher Wren masterpiece.

I have not been entirely outmanoeuvred.

I held onto one tiny portion of power for us.

Open it.

My boss, Chief Inspector Ronald Chater,

very friendly with your boss, Barney Crozier,

he tells me to infiltrate this drugs ring in the City.

I accept their bribes, as instructed, become their courier.

Found out it was Philips who raised the cash amongst his friends in the City.

Higgins just provided the muscle and distribution.

I took their money to Jersey, brought back the heroin and cocaine.

At first, just a smell.

Then I started to realise...

my boss, Chater - in up to his neck.

And I'm Chater's patsy, if it all falls apart.

Like you're Crozier's.

It was too late for me to get out.

I had submitted. Started riding the great white beautiful nightmare.

What happened on Jersey? You were there, weren't you?

That's when I decided... even I decided...enough was enough.

Drugs, yes.

Corruption, why not?

- But murder, never. - No?

No, never.

Of course, they had me - prime patsy for the murder.

But I had them - £2 million.

And while I had that,

Philips and Higgins wouldn't allow me be anyone's patsy.

But I needed my Joan Blondell, my Jean Harlow, One more fix...

they promised me...in exchange.

Here's the exchange.

So if you want to catch them

with their dirty, greedy little hands in the offal pail,

all smeared over with blood and filth,

just you follow the man that comes to collect this.

He'll take you straight to the switchover.

When's he due?

Within the hour. By which time, I'll be long gone.

HALLOWES: You know the first thing Christopher Wren ever designed?

A beehive.

That's why every church he constructed after that looked like a beehive.

A church was a great, roaring, buzzing, thriving hive

of goodness, hope, light.

Shooting out its love all over the land to spark and seed creation.

That was his idea, anyway.

It's...getting dark now.

Closing in.

Smothering out.

(FOOTSTEPS)

(CLICKS FINGERS)

Hold it!

JIM!

Who's this?

Detective Sergeant Bergerac, Jersey States Police,

come to bring a little decency to this wonderful city of yours.

And that goes for you, too, Chief Inspector, sir!

Stay where you are.

Trust me.

Trust you?

Look up there!

HIGGINS: It's a set-up!

Drop the gun! Move away!

Leave it! Higgins, get after him!

I spent two years setting the whole thing up,

then you mess it up because you can't obey orders!

(ENGINE STARTS)

(POLICE RADIO CRACKLES)

(CAMERA CLICKS)

Don't worry, Mr Philips. The camera got enough. Very nice pictures.

Your friend, The Butcher, exchanging your money for pure heroin.

What do you mean, MY money?

The bank logged every banknote that was issued to your syndicate.

It's all here, Mr Philips.

(TAPS ROOF OF VEHICLE)

This whole operation was an entrapment.

And the dead man in the cottage?

Every move Chief Inspector Chater and I made

has been accounted for officially.

It was the Spaniard or me.

And Alan Hallowes?

Hallowes was a weak, bent little poseur.

"Some chief inspectors let their new recruits go. They push them out.

"They hang them up in the marketplace

"like hunks of rotten meat to see who'll attach themselves."

Yes. And why not, Detective Sergeant? This is a hard world. This is London.

We rear men here.

You kill them.

He gave his life to crack this conspiracy.

I doubt if the court will agree with you.

But he got you your promotion, didn't he?

Another step up the ladder?

When there's meat on your plate, Detective Sergeant, you eat it -

bones, fat, gristle, the lot.

Report to me Monday morning at the Bureau, Detective Sergeant.

# He was despised

# Rejected

# A man of sorrows

# And acquainted with grief

# And acquainted with grief. #

(TRAFFIC NOISES BUILD)