Ashes to Ashes (2008–2010): Season 2, Episode 1 - Episode #2.1 - full transcript

Resync: Xenzai[NEF]

Fears grow for the safety of
Detective Inspector Alex Drake,

missing since ten o'clock
this morning.

The police officer
was last seen driving

away from the South Bank after a
failed attempt to apprehend a gunman.

She's dead for sure.

... and have described him
as armed and dangerous.

The search for Detective
Inspector Drake continues

with police releasing
a photo fit of the suspect...

This bloke'll be joining her
by the end of the day.

- I'd put a fiver on it.
- Sh, he might be able to hear you.



It's feared he could be holding
DI Drake as a hostage.

Alex Drake has a twelve year old...

Cool.

I wonder where she is.

This had better be kosher, Bolly.
If I get shit on my boots...

You won't do.
I spoke to the water board,

Tunnel 96 hasn't been used
since the turn of the century.

According to this floor plan,

there's an interior drain
that drops right down into this tunnel.

- What number tunnel is this?
- 96. Why?

Not 69?

I'm sure DI Drake
knows what a 69 is.

- What was that noise?
- I must have read it wrong.

I fear your time on this earth is
coming to a close, DI Drake.



Run!

Oh, shi-i-i-i-it!

69... 96. Easy mistake to make.

Some people had driven down
from the Midlands and the North

to see Britain's fleet set off.

It was led, with an unhappy irony

by a ship the Defence Secretary
is to sell to Australia next year.

Invincible is the Navy's
brand new Harrier Carrier...

Molly, this just isn't the sort of
behaviour I expect from you.

Molly, you're going
to have to do better than that.

Why did you lock
yourself in the toilet?

Tucker said my mum was dead.

- I'm not dead, Molly. I'm not.
- We had a fight.

Miss Mooney said I had
to come and see you.

- I didn't want to.
- Listen, Molly.

When a teacher says something to you,
you have to do it, do you understand?

Yes, Miss.

- It's just...
- What is it, Molly?

It's my Mum.

There's news.

What news?! Am I alive?
Has someone found me?

My name is Alex Drake.

I've been shot and that
bullet's taken me back in time.

Now I'm lost in 1982.

And all I can do is fight
and search and stay alive.

Because somehow
I will find a way home.

- Buona Sera.
- Luigi.

My boots. Good.

- Something's happening.
- What?

I don't know,
but it's something significant.

I think I might be going home.

I thought we'd sorted
all this, Bols.

You're not going anywhere unless
I say so and I don't say so.

Boots.

The call said the man was dead.

He won't be any more dead if
we get there five minutes later.

- Get out of the way, you bastard!
- Guv.

Reverse, you twat!
Or I'll rip your innards out!

- I'm going to kill them.
- There's a man with a giant penis.

- Right!
- Guv. It's Princess Margaret.

What's she doing in Soho?

- Her dress maker lives here.
- Sixth in line to the throne.

Gene Hunt does not wait for the
sixth in line to the bloody throne.

Oh, God.

It's all restaurants now.

It's OK, pretty lady,
you're breathing.

- What did you say?
- Not long now, pretty lady.

Have they found me?
What do you know about me?

Nothing, Miss.

Bolly! We have a dead person to
look at, if that's all right with you.

Thank you.

Bloody Nora.

Try and remember that a human being
lost his life here, a man just like you.

Now that's what I call well hung!

- Has he been ID'd?
- No, ma'am.

Right you two, go and have a talk
to the woman who made the call.

Guv.

Auto-erotic asphyxiation.

By strangling himself like that his
dying brain cells released glutamate.

To prevent glutamate overload
the brain releases a receptor.

It's these receptors that give
rise to the feelings of euphoria.

I didn't know you had a PhD
in masturbation, DI Drake.

The trick is to ejaculate
and then let go of the noose.

Clearly it doesn't always work.

I saw him when
I opened up this morning.

Bloody idiot,
dying in the middle of my business.

Remember a human being
lost his life here,

a man just like you.

- Do you know who he is?
- No. Are you going to close me down?

We can't have pervy punters
expiring all over the place.

- Not even in Soho.
- Please.

What's it worth?
I'll toss you both off.

- No, thank you.
- Maybe we could accept a contribution

to the Metropolitan Police
Home For The Bewildered.

- I don't want any money, Ray.
- What you talking about?

The slags and scum in this business
earn a lot more than we do.

All coppers are bastards.

Toe rags!

Somebody must have helped him
truss himself up like this.

The victims of auto-erotic asphyxiation
are usually lone young males.

This was found in
the street outside, sir.

Usually but not always.

- Who's the pirate?
- Still trying to trace her, sir.

Well, it's not usual.

Open and shut.

Some tart was giving him a five
knuckle shuffle, he hollered his last.

Said tart freaked out,

galloped off down Berwick Street,
left the Polaroid behind.

- An accident?
- That would've taken Columbo an hour.

You see that woman over there?

I think I knew it the moment
I set eyes on her.

Beautiful.

Kind. Brave as a lion.

All I can see is Shaz.

Right, Viv. Get everyone in
this department in here now.

Detective Superintendent Mackintosh
is on his way to speak to us.

He doesn't slum it
with us these days.

Finally I get to meet
the great Supermac.

What's going off, Guv?

- That dead bloke in the strip club.
- What about him?

He was one of us.

Police Constable Sean Irvine.

Graduated with flying
colours from Hendon.

We were talking about
moving him up into CID.

He would've been
a colleague of yours.

Why are you telling us this? He choked
on his chicken in a strip club.

On the day our colleagues in the forces
prepare to fight for their country,

it doesn't fill me with joy
that a fellow officer died

- in such circumstances.
- The papers will have a field day.

Why did a young PC
with such prospects

commit a sordid act
in a sordid part of the town?

Perk of the job.

Because we let him down.

Because he grew up as a young copper

in a culture that said
it was OK to overstep the mark.

I know. It's been hard for you.

The city awash with
new money and new crime

and we're asked to police it with
one hand tied behind our backs.

But that's the new world we have to
live in and there's no going back now.

More's the pity.

The days of taking home
a side of beef

because the butcher appreciated you
keeping the streets clean? Gone.

The days of asking your mate in
traffic to rip up a parking ticket?

Gone.

Now we can either lament
the passing of the old ways,

become bitter and twisted and useless...
Or we can step into the new world.

I'm a policeman. That's what I do.
That's what I am.

So for me there's no question,
I will adapt.

But from now on it's a black
and white world, gentlemen.

I've just drawn a line in the sand.

Whatever happened in the past
stays in the past.

But what happens
from this moment on...

Either with me or against me.

It's a real pleasure to meet you,
sir. I've heard a lot about you.

- And I you, Alex.
- Yes, moving on.

I want you to deliver
the agony message personally, Gene,

- not some rookie PC.
- OK, sir.

And his colleagues need to be told.
There's one guy he was close to.

I'll get the boys onto it.

And the Commissioner had a call
from the Palace today.

Buck House?

It seems Princess Margaret
was visiting her favourite dressmaker

when a man holding a giant plastic
penis walked in front of her car.

Too much Scotch?

Then some foul-mouthed police officer
refused to let her pass.

No respect for our elders any more.
Some people, eh?

Irvine was supposed
to clean up Soho.

Instead he got corrupted by it.

We'll sort this, sir.

Hold up, Bolly.

Personally, I'm never in that much of a
hurry to tell a wife her husband's dead.

Things are moving.

Yeah, something to do with
last night's Vindaloo.

We've got a job to do.

You must be mistaken.
He's not that sort of man.

We all have our peccadillos, love.
Doesn't make him a bad person.

He was the most loving
husband you could ever imagine.

His only problem was
he was married to the poxy job.

He put in the hours, did he?

It's not a job, it's a disease.
And it's killed him.

Feel free to cry, I hear it's
the done thing on these occasions.

Piss off.

Did he ever ask you to watch him
indulge in any sexual fantasy?

Never asked you to dress him up
as a schoolgirl? Traffic warden?

Nothing like that.

- Princess Leia?
- I think she said no.

Not Sean. Never.

Was Kevin with him?
Where was Kevin?

PC Kevin Hales, his partner.

Two of our best officers are
talking to him now.

All right, mate?
Are you Kevin Hales?

I am, yeah.
Why? What can I do for you?

Best mate of Sean Irvine?

- Well...
- He's dead.

He died in a strip club in Soho.

Dressed up like a woman.

- Sean's dead?
- Yeah.

So there was never any
extra money around the place?

- What are you implying?
- I'm implying he worked in vice.

We lived on his police wages,
if you can call it living.

He's as straight as a die.

While I was sitting
here with the kids,

watching his tea go cold, he
was dying in some strip club? No.

- How was your marriage?
- He loved me, he loved the kids.

And you never caught him
in your knicker drawer?

I'm going to show you something now

- which I know will upset you.
- Oh, God.

But it's important we clear
your husband's death up, isn't it?

Straight as a die.

Do you recognise
the woman in the photograph?

I know wives are the last to know
their husbands use prostitutes,

but she did seem really sure
he wasn't into that.

As the great Charlie Rich once said,

nobody knows what goes on
behind closed doors.

Look.

A copper gets his rocks off dressed up
as Widow Twankey in front of hookers.

It embarrasses me, it embarrasses
the Force, so we move on.

Nobody knows anyone. The great lie
of this life is we pretend we do.

You never talk about Mrs Hunt,
do you? Ex-Mrs Hunt.

That's right. I don't.

This is supposed
to be a crime scene.

The manageress very kindly asked
us if she could keep it open.

- Apparently our girl dances here.
- Shouldn't we go find her backstage?

One day, one day I will go
to a Woman Of The Year lunch.

Don't get all high
and mighty on us.

I'd like to see you up there
shaking your bits and bobs.

- In your dreams.
- I certainly hope so.

You don't get many
of them to the pound.

Watch out, mate.
They've all got crabs.

That's our girl.

- Is somebody going to arrest her?
- Why are you always in such a hurry?

Right, then, Long John
bloody Silver. You're nicked.

You pick up that tissue and
you put it in a bin!

So you're a one-eyed stripper
who likes to take a photograph?

I've got both my eyes, thanks.
It's my stage persona.

You don't deny
that's you in the photograph?

- That's me.
- How well did you know the man?

I didn't. Apparently, he came
to the club and watched me strip.

Then the boss said he wanted to do
something in private.

- What did you say?
- I said no.

They said he was a police officer
and they wanted to keep him happy.

So I said I'd do it
but I'd only watch, nothing else.

- Watch what, exactly?
- Just him. And take photos.

- One for the album.
- Can I go in, please?

We are talking about the death
of a police officer here.

Where's that accent from?

- Hyde.
- Hyde. Manchester girl.

You should have said so.
Chris!

Can we get on?

I promise you, he wasn't
dead when I left him.

This young lady's from Manchester.

Go and get her a decent cup
of tea and a biscuit.

What sort of biscuits
do you like, love?

Garibaldis.

- Can I help you?
- Yeah, I want to see Hunt.

DCI Hunt is out of the office at
present. If you'd like me to...

I want to see him now!

Are you telling us
the absolute truth?

What are you doing down here, Sal?

Getting your kit off for
a bunch of pervy Southerners?

- I'm trying to be an actress.
- What they all say.

I'm really sorry
about what's happened.

OK, off you go, Sal.

And stop all this stripping nonsense,
there's a good girl.

Felicity Kendal didn't get where
she is by taking her clothes off.

Did she?

- I don't think so, no.
- Thank you.

Mr Hunt?

You won't tell my mum, will you?

No, love.

There you go.
Sex game gone wrong, end of.

- What?
- Well, is that it?

I've seen bacon grilled
for longer than that.

I'm even starting to speak like you.

- Are we letting that tart go?
- She's not a tart, she's an actress.

Guv, Viv's been on the radio.

The dead copper's mate really wants
to speak to you.

They say you're a legend.
Start acting like one.

You wanted to talk to me, so talk.

I'll not have my best mate
hung out to dry,

a laughing stock for
the entire force.

He brought that on himself. Dressed up
like Hilda Ogden in a Soho clip-joint.

- What sort of man was Sean?
- A bloody good one.

- Best mate I've ever had.
- Did he sleep with the girls?

He's dead.
What difference does it make

humiliating him now? All I ask is...

My sympathy for
the death of your friend

is starting to dribble away,
Police Constable.

- What do you want me to say?
- The truth.

He was getting in a bit deeper
than normal, that's all I'd say.

So he did sleep with the girls?

When you work in Soho, it's sort of
a perk of the job, everyone does it.

But he's one of ours and
you're hanging him out to dry!

- Think of his wife.
- You watch your lip, Constable!

What do you mean, deeper?

I don't know the details because
I asked him not to tell me.

But he was getting... agitated.

You know, nervy.

I just couldn't keep
him away from the girls,

it was like a drug.

Game, set and match, Gene Hunt.

Yeah, he had a smile like
a Cheshire cat.

- I did not!
- Can't you see it demeans women?

- Bollocks. They get paid.
- I was working. I had to be there.

He actually said he wouldn't mind
seeing you up there on stage,

wiggling your tassels around.

That's not what I said.
I said you'd be

as good-looking
as any of 'em if you were a stripper.

Which you're not,
because that would demean you.

Go and play with yourself.

Classic!

Copper obsessed with the tarts,
gets off by dressing up.

Gets a girl to watch him.
She leaves. He dies, end of.

Get hold of the pathologist.
I want to run a blood test on Irvine.

Boss. Ma'am.

- It was an accident.
- Ray, talk to all Ruth Irvine's friends

and neighbours. Find out
what sort of woman she is.

All sorted, Gene?

Almost there, sir,
just tying up a few loose ends.

Good stuff. Short and sharp
so it doesn't affect morale.

Alex.

It's called respect.

You should look it up.

Female, mid'30s
with gunshot wound to head.

What's happened?

Alpha, Victor, Lima, One.

Urgent medical assistance required.

Don't frighten the dog, Bolls.

You know I've had
the strangest day today, Luigi.

After months of nothing really
happening, I think today

someone finally found me!
A tramp maybe, down by the river.

You have to be careful
down by the river.

But you know what it means,
it means that I'm alive.

And all these months are just seconds.
I hear voices through other voices.

Like Rod Hull and Emu?
I like very much.

- Something's about to happen.
- You are right there!

Veal scaloppini!
You spoil me, Luigi.

I cook it in my special sauce.

My mother's sauce.

Not for these others.

Pearls before swine, eh?

- Enjoy, Signorina.
- Thank you.

- Can I have a quick word?
- Can it wait until I've eaten?

It's Shaz.
She's giving me the cold shoulder.

Why is she?

She says I enjoy
looking at those naked girls.

Well, do you?

- But she says it's degrading women.
- Well, it is!

But I can't help how I feel when I look
at a woman taking her clothes off.

Let me try and turn it around for you.
How would you feel

about letting Shaz watch men strip?

Men stripping? That's disgusting.
Women don't want to see that.

Look, let me just finish
my dinner in peace

and I will think of something to get
you back on track with Shaz. OK?

Thank you, boss. Ma'am.

- How's your food?
- I really wouldn't know.

- It's your own fault.
- What is?

Get your coat, we're going
to the morgue. Raymondo.

I must admit it looked like an open and
shut case of auto-erotic asphyxiation.

Thought I'd be home for Russell Harty
and corned beef hash.

- Get on with it, she's hungry.
- That was a good scrap.

At your suggestion, DI Drake,
I had a little rummage in his blood.

- What was?
- Russell Harty and Grace Jones.

A big poof and a diesel dyke.

Where I found an amount
of trichloroethanol.

- Metabolised chloral hydrate?
- Precisely.

- What?
- Date rape.

- Temper, temper.
- Well, speak English!

Someone slipped him a Mickey Finn.

There's bruising to the shoulders,

scratches on the wrists. It's as though
he's been forcibly held down.

That would be my guess, yes.
You're good at this.

Someone incapacitated him

but he could struggle while
they put on the woman's clothing.

The only person we know
was at the scene was Sally.

He's a big man,
it'd be hard to hold him down.

I'm beginning to smell
a very big, very smelly rat.

Grace Jones is a lesbian?

- What was the actual cause of death?
- He choked on his own vomit.

An overdose of chloral hydrate would
lead to convulsions and vomiting.

He didn't stand a chance.

Be very clear what you're saying.
A police officer has been murdered?

It would appear so.

You lied, Sally.
That disappoints me.

- Don't know what you mean.
- The police officer was murdered.

Seems you were the last person
to have seen him alive.

- I've told you everything I know.
- I'm not going to phone your mother.

I'm going to drive to Manchester
and bring her back with me.

Then I'll sit next to her whilst
she watches her little girl -

- waggling her bits in front
of with London's finest deviants.

- You wouldn't.
- Start talking!

The dead guy asked me to take
photos of him dressed up.

I said no but he gave me money.
That's it.

- I'm not saying anything else.
- Perhaps I didn't make myself clear?

There are things in this world a
lot more scary than you, Mr Hunt.

What's up with you, Bols?
Someone walking on your grave again?

Jesus, she's been shot!
That way! Go! Go!

I'm not a bad person.

No, you're not a bad person.

I only wanted to be an actress.

Well, you will be an actress.
Now stop talking.

Stay with me, Sally,
you stay with me.

You won't tell my mum?

No, I won't tell your mum.

They should put a sign up at every
train station in the north

saying the streets of London
are paved with shit.

Why kill a kid like that?

What could she possibly have
known that was worth her death?

I don't know what I'm
in this miserable place for.

I have no idea.

I know why you're here, Bols,

you only had to ask.

Why? Why am I here?

The same reason as me.

To keep the streets clean

and to find this girl's killer.

Ray's been talking to the grieving
widow's neighbours.

She wasn't where she said she was,
she lied to Uncle Gene, Bols.

- You two wait here.
- She's still just lost her husband.

Someone's been yanking my chain.

Just don't go into her house
like a bull in a china shop.

Good morning.
Is this the china shop?

What are you doing?
How dare you just burst in here.

You're nicked.

Kids, you don't need
to hear this. Wait there.

They're burying
their father this week!

I hope you've booked the space next
to him, cos I'm gonna bury you!

Let's run through the
facts one more time, shall we?

Your husband was found
dead in a Soho clip joint.

- You show me some respect!
- I don't respect people who lie to me!

Found trussed up like Danny La Rue
and choked on his own vomit. Murdered.

We did have a witness to your husband's
last moments but she's dead too.

A sweet girl, full of life.

Now her blood is soaking into the
shitty tarmac of a shitty Soho street.

- Why are you telling me all this?
- Do you know what I think?

I think your husband was playing
away with some of Soho's finest.

- No, I won't believe that.
- I think you found out about it

had him murdered and then stitched it
up to look like a sex game gone wrong.

When it became obvious that we were
going to get Sally to spill the beans,

you had her murdered.
She died in my arms!

A frightened, little girl
a long way from home.

Why did you say you were at home
when the kids were with the neighbour?

- I'm sorry, but I can't.
- I want the truth!

You didn't kill them, did you?

What are you hiding?

Charlie!

It's all right,
love, it's all right.

A word, please.

- What's she told you?
- Lies, mostly.

She doesn't have an alibi for
the night her husband was killed.

She does, actually.

The reason Ruth wasn't at home with
her kids is that she was with me.

- With you?
- Yes, with me.

In my bed.

You were having
an affair with Ruth Irvine?

I'm not proud of it.

You were sleeping
with a junior officer's wife?

The point is, Mrs Irvine is not
a suspect in her husband's death.

Are you going to be
speaking at his funeral?

You can't help who
you fall in love with.

Is that right, Sir?

None of this changes
the bigger picture.

I want Soho cleaned up, I want
the man who murdered my officer.

Now, if you'll excuse me.

Nobody knows anyone.
Who said that?

Sean Irvine was walking the mean
streets of Soho whilst his wife

was being skewered by
his senior officer.

I think "love" was the word he used.

We've been asking round
about Sean Irvine.

He was well-liked, nobody's
got a bad word to say about him.

Girls really liked him. Said he was
fair, he never took advantage of them.

- Bent?
- No evidence he was.

Which backs up what his wife says.

The only one saying Irvine was taking a
stroll on the dark side was Kevin Hales.

- Who came especially to tell us that.
- Go fetch.

"Congratulations,
they've found you."

Bols?

Get in here.

What the hell is this
and what does it mean?

"Pont de l'Alma." Alma Bridge?
I didn't write it.

You're the only one
who writes French in here.

- I didn't write it.
- Where's bloody Hales?

It does ring a bell, though.

The death of your friend has
been traumatic for you.

Even though you told us
he was a bit pervy.

No, not pervy.

Whatever he got up to in private,
I guess he didn't hurt anyone.

Soho, nothing's black
and white there.

- Apart from your friend Sean.
- Ma'am?

Well, he was white, wasn't he?
He was honest.

Yeah, I didn't say he wasn't honest.

The question is,
does that make you black?

- I don't know what you mean.
- You said your mate, your best mate,

used to tax the girls
and we know he didn't.

If that's what you think,
that's good.

Where were you
the night Sean was killed?

I wasn't on duty that night,
neither was he.

I was at Stamford Bridge.

- On your own?
- No, with 30,000 other people.

And the other night?

- What night?
- The night the girl was killed.

I was in a police cell.

What were you doing
in a police cell?

I'd had a few drinks,
I was in a funny mood.

I got into a fight
with a pimp in Soho.

Well, that'll be on your record.

Well, no charges were brought.

- I'll have that checked out.
- You do that, sir.

I'm going to turn your
life upside down, Constable.

Look, I'm not saying
I'm the perfect copper.

But I didn't kill my mate
and I didn't kill that girl.

Get out of my sight.

- What do you think of Mac now?
- I think he's very attractive.

He's pulling the Met
in the right direction.

He said the word "love"
in a police station.

God, give me strength.

What do you think of Mac?

- What do you want?
- To talk to you.

Make an appointment.

To talk to you where
the walls don't have ears.

When I got back from my interview
I found my whole house had been trashed.

Phone your local cops,
we're not interested.

You don't like me very much.

Your husband died doing his job while
you were impaled on another man's baton.

Sean was a decent, loving man.

Spare me the crocodile tears,
please.

Will you put your schoolboy morality
aside for one second and listen?

Nothing was missing, because they didn't
find what they were looking for.

And what was that?

My husband's personal diary.

He used to just keep it
on the bookshelf in the kitchen,

but a few weeks ago he started
hiding it under the floorboards.

- Did he say why?
- He just said it was safer there.

I thought there might be
something significant in it.

That's what you do, isn't it?
Find the significance?

Have you ever been in love, Mr Hunt?

There was the time Wendy Barton
let me put a frog down her knickers.

Sometimes love is dark
and very dangerous

and leaves you not liking
yourself very much.

Find the people who killed
my husband.

Please.

Mate, I don't care if your
wife does leave you.

A man died in that club and
we need to know who was there.

Just go and have a word with her,
cos you're coming down the station.

Before it wasn't
a double murder enquiry.

Tell me what happened that night.

Same as happens every night.
I've told you all this before.

They're punters.

They pay their money, have a quick
wank under their macs and leave.

That's disgusting.

Yeah, you should be
ashamed of yourself.

Why should women be treated
like objects? It's not right.

There's an entire two pages at
the back here. KH.

- ?40.?80. There's a lot of payments.
- Why would he be paying Hales?

Maybe he was keeping a note on
the payments Hales received.

Supposition, Bols.

There's got to be something here.
It's got to be staring us in the face.

Let's look at the morning
of the last day of his life.

10am, Soho Association.

- 12 o'clock, SM.
- Sadomasochism?

Well, it would explain why he
died looking like my Auntie Sheila.

- I'm going back to the club.
- What for?

Maybe we missed something.

Fire up the photocopier.

Why does this thing
never bloody work?

It hasn't been the same
since that lady from accounts

photocopied her bum
at the Christmas party.

She'd had a few brandy snaps
in her life, eh?

Have you still got
that photocopy of her arse?

Here we go.

Right, I've got it set
to maximum magnification.

Just like Harrison Ford!

- I knew it!
- Yeah, I can see it!

I can't. What am I looking for?

See the face? Kevin Hales.

I made it.

I made it... home.

Hello. I'm awake.

Molly?

I survived the bullet.

Is my daughter here?

I'm a little disappointed in you.

The great detective
can't unravel the simplest clue.

What's happening?

Pont de l'Alma.
Does it ring any bells?

- What?
- Did you like the rose?

I found you out,
Alex, this isn't your home.

I am home.

1982.

I wouldn't want your friends to
miss out on all the fun.

Will they come to your rescue
if they can hear you scream?

There's nothing like pain
to loosen the tongue.

I've been hearing
all about you, Alex.

Tell me what you are doing here.
I know you don't belong in this world.

This is DI Alex Drake!

Help me somebody, please!

Help me! Help!

Bolly! What's going on?
Where are you?

Please! Please!
Help me, somebody! Please!

- Ma'am?
- DI Drake, talk to me!

Help me! Please!

Help me, please!

Bolly!

Pressure damage, I'm on it.

Airway clear.

Are you with us, love?

Alex, can you hear me?

Where are you, Bolly?

What are you doing in this place?

Dilating big time. Step back.

Bolly!

Just tell me!

This isn't the end, Alex.

Bolly!

Guv.

Alex! Wake up!

Alex! Wake up! Come on, wake up!

Wake up, Alex! Come on!

Am I dead?

Not unless I'm Saint Peter.

I find that highly
unlikely, don't you?

Someone went to a lot of trouble
to freak you out, Bolly.

I know.

You attract nutters.

- I've noticed that about you.
- Yeah, so have I.

We checked Kevin Hales's alibi
the night Sally was shot.

He said he was in a police cell,
but I read his charge sheet.

He was banged up for five minutes
before a mate let him out.

- Let's go and get him.
- No, it's fine.

Ray and Chris have
got it under control.

Guv?

We're outside Hales's flat.
The bastard's firing at us.

Armed response are on their way.

A simple bloody arrest.

He was going nuts
before we got here.

Why, if he didn't know
we were coming for him?

Don't know, don't care.

- Where do you think you're going?
- I'm coming with you.

Can't get enough, can you?

- Get down, Guv!
- Where's Hales?

- He's up there.
- He shot my car!

You shot my car, you bastard!

Sod armed response, Guv.
We can sort this joker out.

How are you feeling, Ma'am?

- Fine, thanks, Chris.
- Poof.

Come on, you bastards!
Come and get me!

Come on!

- Get down now!
- You lot! Get back in now!

- He's drunk.
- He's dead.

- Put that away.
- He's gonna kill someone.

- He already has.
- That's why I'm going to take him out.

- Just let me talk to him.
- I'll do it.

What?

You're still all over the place after
your meeting with Doctor Death.

- How do you talk someone down?
- I've watched you, how hard can it be?

Tea and sympathy, pretend you care
about their snivelling little lives.

There's a bit more to it than that.

Kevin Hales?
I know you murdered your mate

and you're probably feeling bad about it.
Not, it has to be said, as bad as he does.

Just stop feeling sorry for yourself
and start behaving like a bloody man!

Bastard.

Can't you see this is what he wants?
It's victim precipitated homicide.

Speak English, Bolly,
or I will shoot you.

It's death by cop.

He's killed his mate, he feels guilty
about it, this is the ending he wants.

- I suggest we give it to him.
- Armed response are here.

Bolly! Bolly!

Come on, you bastards!
Come and get me.

Kevin?

I never met Sean.

You're not fit to say his name.

So I hear.

He was a decent copper
and a good man.

He was my friend.

What happened, Kevin?

Come on, you bastards!

Kevin, what happened?

I killed him.

I didn't mean to.

He knew I was on the take and
he said he was going to report me.

I thought I'd get
some pictures of him,

keep his mouth shut that way.

So you didn't mean to kill him.

That's important.

I paid the girl...

Went back inside and he was dead.

Choked.

Yeah, we know.

But you did kill Sally.

Don't let Sean down again.

Come on, make him proud of you.

Just put the gun down.

Just put it down.
Go on.

Go on.

Just put it down.

I'm sorry, Sean.

Come on.

Armed police. Step away
from the weapon.

Turn around, Kevin.

We're arresting you for the murders
of Sean Irvine and Sally Jason.

Hey. Have you seen this lot?

It's like a wet dream
in Radio Rentals in his gaff.

What's this?
50% to the pimps, 10% for you?

Nothing you wouldn't do. Legend.

Have a nice day, cop killer.
Get him out of my sight.

Right, who wants a television?

- Blow into this.
- Blow yourself.

I said blow into it.

You're not drunk.

I'm just a pebble on the beach,
Ma'am.

I'm nothing.

We are everywhere.

Everywhere.

Get rid of him.

He confessed. He's in the Polaroid.

Now, if you don't mind,
I'm going to get myself a drink.

I'm not saying he didn't do it,
but why pretend to be drunk?

I don't know. Does everything
have to have a reason?

Maybe somebody wants us to
think he was working alone.

Maybe he was told to act drunk
and confess.

What "someone else"?
Your Nurse Ratched?

- SM.
- Sadomasochist. We've done that bit.

Yeah, but he wasn't, was he? That's
what Kevin Hales wanted us to think.

"Meeting with SM. Goes well".

Supermac.

Mac?

He had a meeting with Sean
on the last day of his life.

It's not unusual for a superintendent
to meet his Pcs,

especially if he was
going to fast-track him to CID.

But it is unusual not to tell the people
who are investigating that PC's murder.

No. Enough.

Keep Mac out of this.

Meet Sean Irvine.

He's your superior! You don't sneak into
his office and read his private diary!

- Could he be bent?
- No!

- Why rub out the meeting with Sean?
- That proves nothing.

Maybe, maybe not.
Why don't we ask him?

Chris? What the bloody
hell are you playing at?

I am arresting you on the suspicion of
being the loveliest woman I've ever met.

What are you talking about?

What are you doing?

What is he doing?

He's being attractively post modern.

Full monty. Bends the rules.

Bottom line is, I trust Mac.

He said things were black and white.
What if he's black?

If Mac had anything to do
with Sean Irvine's death,

then everything
that I believe in is wrong.

Welcome to my world.

- He's gone mad.
- That is horrible.

Sorry, Mama.

You had such great hopes for me.

Oh, dear, God.

Mr Hunt. It's for you.

- Tell them to piss off, I'm drinking.
- He said to say it's Mac.

Come in. Gene.

And DI Drake.

Nasty business. I wanted to thank
you both for clearing it up.

That's if it is cleared up.

It seems that Sean Irvine came
to see you on the day he died.

Irvine? I don't think so.

It was in his diary. A diary someone
was very keen to get hold of.

- He must be mistaken.
- It was in your diary too.

How can you possibly know that?
My diary is kept under lock and key.

- I picked the lock and read it.
- Did you now?

She did have her reasons.

I think we'd better clear up this
misunderstanding at once, don't you, Gene?

Scotch?

And you, DI Drake...

If you put your pretty little fingers
near my private belongings again...

I'll cut them off.

Shut the door, Gene.

I'm talking very quietly
about succeeding.

In a very quiet,
I hope, British way.

Did you like the flower?

How did you get in?

Are you going to be
my partner or my enemy?

I'm putting this phone down.

Pont de l'Alma.
Still haven't got it, have you?

I was there at the funeral
holding back the grieving hordes.

Pont de l'Alma!
Is the tunnel where she died!

Do you remember
where you were the day she crashed?

- But that was 1997!
- More than a decade without her.

She hasn't died yet!
This is 1982!

Isn't it just?

Resynchronised by Nathbot
~ bufgelfly ~

We want the body of Jed Wicklow.

You're interfering
with an investigation.

- That is a criminal offence.
- Why don't you let me handle this?

You in a field with
a bunch of gypos?

They'll tie you up as a sex slave and
make a rabbit trap out of your knickers.

If Gene hadn't shunted the vehicle,
it would've hit that child.

I don't recall a kiddie.

A quick reminder,
Drakey, I am one of the good guys.

- And you are on my side.
- This will never be my side.

I don't want to see
your chair vacant.

- You know what you have to do.
- Corruption? Sorry, DI Drake,

have you just accused me
of being corrupt?

You're filthy and rotten!
Please let me in?

Trust me.

Resync: Xenzai[NEF]