01x01 - Episode 01

Episode transcripts for the TV show "SS-GB". Aired: June 2018 to March 2017.
"SS-GB" is set in a 1941 alternative timeline in which n*zi Germany, having won the Battle of Britain, is now a harsh occupying force in the United Kingdom.
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01x01 - Episode 01

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Radio: This is the BBC Home Service. On orders from the German army, the curfew will be relaxed from Monday to celebrate German-Soviet Friendship Week. In anticipation of the celebrations, one of the few surviving Spitfires will be presented to Soviet General Zhukov on The Mall today by German air ace Helmut Vig. Vice Marshal Goering commented that Herr Helmut Vig's 58 kills was a decisive factor in the battle for air supremacy over Britain that finally brought peace to Europe...









I have to go.

No, no, no, no, don't rush off.

It's the first whole night we've had together in ages.


Believe me, I'd love to stay.

Then let's not go in.

There's that flu going around.

What, both of us?


I hate that place now.

It's very plush here.

Who else uses these rooms?

A Reichspropagandaleiter.

What if they come back?

We'll be sh*t.


He's visiting the South West controlled zone.

Aren't you the clever one!

If I quit, would you still see me?

Of course.

But don't.

It's all right for you.

Archer of the Yard, all that power.


Don't talk daft, Sylvia.


For God's sake, get away from the window!

Come in.

Don't you like it? It's covering my modesty.

Doesn't it do the same for you?

Don't be a bloody fool.




All right. Have you got the m*rder bag?



Harry Woods.

A death above an antique shop, Shepherd Market.

Take that thing off, will you?


Yes, Harry?

Do you get a thrill out of taking stupid risks, huh, Doug?

Not very subtle, what you're doing with Sylvia.

How do you know what we get up to?

I don't know what's got into you.

Then just drive, Harry.

Look, all I'm saying is, not on your own doorstep, not with your own secretary, for Christ's sake!

In the... Fritz Ritz!

Those Herberts might act as if they like you just now, but they could turn on you any time.

Mind your own business, Sergeant.

Listen, if you have to have it off, what about that, er... big-titted German bird in the Waffen-SS liaison, huh?


No? I heard she puts it about a bit.

I thought you disapproved of consorting with the Germans.

What's the use?

What do the Resistance hope to achieve with this?

He gets strung up and his family sent to a labour camp.


Nothing wrong with a bit of that.

What if the Russki had been k*lled instead, huh?

That would've put the dampers on their friendship ceremony, wouldn't it?


I remember I took you around here when it was my b*at.

Young and innocent, you were.

Brand-new diploma, not a clue in the world.

You're choking me up, Harry!


No, I'm just saying, when it was my b*at, it was nice.

No, it wasn't.

Ah, maybe not. The girls were always friendly.

Well, friendship's not always free around here, is it?

Hiya, love.

Hello, Sergeant.

What's going on here?

Well, you ought to know, you're working with 'em.

Ought to know what?

The Herberts have decided we need to be examined by their doctors.

Go back in the line!

So it's true, they're turning the whole area into an official Wehrmacht brothel.

To the victor, the spoils, huh?

You won't be able to come around here any more, Harry.

Yeah, very funny!

Inspector Archer?

Sir, is it true the SS are using the police to chase Resistance fighters?

It's nonsense. We're non-political and we always will be.


Morning, Denham.


Is that the way to the roof?

Yes, sir.



Sorry to disturb, Doc.



Fancy some petrol coupons, Harry?

You could get to Timbuktu on this lot.

Looks like our antique dealer had a couple of sidelines.

Remember that g*ng that m*rder the warehouse manager in Fulham?

They were forging Luftwaffe petrol coupons.

Could be the same mob.

Well, Doc?

First b*llet in the chest, second one into the top of the lung.

Death probably instantaneous.

Has the pathologist been?

No, he's probably stuck at some roadblock.

That Resistance sh**ting caused a bit of a stink.

Good teeth.

There's blood in the mouth.

He probably hit his face when he fell.


What's this?

Cataracts? Was he blind?

I couldn't tell you. They're not like any cataracts I've seen.

Fine clothes.

Not short of money.

Although they could fit better.

Maybe it was an argument with his tailor, huh?


That's worth a small fortune.


What have you got, Harry?

Eight pounds, three shillings, keys.

Railway ticket, monthly. Return and a half.

From London to Bringle Sands.

Here, Peter Thomas.

ID issued at, er... Kingston Record Office.

Kingston? That's the one the Resistance b*rned down.


Convenient. Can't be traced.

Care to hazard a time of death, Doctor?

Er... between six and seven this morning.

Harry, would you bag up these ashes, please?

Yeah. I'll have a word with the neighbours.

Thanks, Doc.






Get your men under control! It's disgusting what you're doing!




Do you come here often with Peter Thomas?

I'm Chief Superintendent Douglas Archer.

And you are... Madam?

Miss. I'd rather not be mistaken for a madam.

It's Barbara Barga, New York Times.

Have you been in London long?

I arrived ten days ago on the inaugural Lufthansa flight.

With Goebbels and Goering.

You must be important.

Yet you just walked away from the scene of a crime.

I saw you.

What is the crime?

Well, from the way you disappeared, I thought you'd guessed.

The menu, sir.

Foul play. Isn't that what you call it over here?

You don't seem surprised.


But I hoped it wasn't.

For Peter's sake.

What was it?


He was sh*t.

Any idea why?

He was what we call a hustler.

Who knows what deals he was into?

And what was your relationship?

He was helping me on a piece about Americans who chose to stay in London.

A year of occupation, that kind of thing.

Poor old Peter.

I ran out of film yesterday, he said he'd get me a roll.

But I guess everything in the apartment is considered evidence now.

So you walked away to avoid getting involved.

Didn't do me much good.

Well... that outfit's always going to get you noticed.

I'm not sure all policemen would be so observant.


I guess dealers like him will be rubbing their hands at the thought of all the new stuff that will come from the fighting in the North.

You are well-informed.

Funny. I'm not hungry any more.

I'll need to see you again.

Where can I reach you?

The Dorchester.

For some reason, I never got invited to the reopening.

Hm. It's not what it was.

Nothing is.

I don't know.

Some things can improve with age.





What is it?

I've been summoned.

In there.

Do you know why?

You tell me.

Danke schön.

Hi, Doug.



Thank you, Jimmy.

So, what have you been up to?

I'm not entirely sure.

What did you get?

Er... well, according to the neighbours, Peter Thomas was involved with some Luftwaffe Feldwebel.

Big guy, spectacles.

Probably from the Quartermaster's Depot in Marylebone.

Supplied them with all their goodies for their parties.

You know, drugs, painted ladies.

I'm going to send his description to the Military Police.

If the Military are involved, they take over.

Puts us in a spot, doesn't it?


That antique shop, it was a Resistance safe house.

A transmitter aerial hidden in the ceiling.

Well, if it is Resistance, that becomes an SS job, not Military Police.

Either way, it's not our responsibility.

Right. Well, I'll... just send the file.

What do you want to do with these ashes?

We'll keep hold of those for now, I think.

What is it?

That look. I've seen that a thousand times.


A woman, this morning.

Well, she was headed for Peter Thomas' place, until she saw the bobbies outside, then made herself scarce.

Right. Well, let's get her description, then, huh?

I managed to talk to her.

American. A journalist.

And a liar.

She claims she was after Thomas for film, but someone like that can get that sort of stuff easily from the US Embassy, or the German Press Bureau.

She doesn't need the black market.


Weekly debrief with Kellermann.

Yes, sir, immediately. I was just on my way up.

Right up my arse!



Superintendent, come in. Come in.

These gentlemen are from The Signal Magazine in Berlin.

Ja, sehr gut. Er... Foto?

Could you and SS-Gruppenfuhrer Kellermann step behind the table and look at some notes or a map?

The new flag for the event with our Russian friends.


I think they've made the cross of St George a little too small, hm?

Could you point at it?


Both of you. Please.


Superintendent Archer, is it true here at Scotland Yard, the men call General Kellermann Father?

Do I not know what goes on in my force, hm?


If Scotland Yard's finest detective says it is so, hm, then who am I to question it? So...



I'm sorry about all that. Ah!

Anything to report?

A m*rder in Shepherd Market.

Looks like German involvement, so I expect the Feldgericht der Luftwaffe will take it over.




It seems a senior officer of the Sicherheitsdienst will be joining us from Berlin.



Herr Gruppenfuhrer?

Ah, Glott.

Jawohl, Gruppenfuhrer!




The reception at The Savoy tonight, we can make it in his honour.

Standartenfuhrer Dr. Huth is on the personal staff of Reichsfuhrer Himmler.

We want him to feel welcome.

Why is an Intelligence SS officer coming here, sir?

I don't know.

But, er... fortunately, you'll be working closely with Herr Dr. Huth, so his thoughts will not be a mystery, if you get my meaning.


What did they want?

I've been reassigned. Genealogy.

They want details on all the support staff.

Family histories, bloodlines.

Weed out the undesirables.


I thought...

Well, I hoped it wouldn't come to this.

Not so quickly.

Look, I'll go upstairs and insist you stay working with me.

I thought it was your job to protect all of us.

You don't get it, do you?

We'll talk tomorrow.

Were you always like this, or was it her dying that did it to you?



Hello, Mr. Archer.

Dad! Is it m*rder?

m*rder at the antiques shop, wasn't it, Mr. Archer?

It was in the early edition.

Detective Bob Sheenan.


You like 'em soft, don't you, Mr. Archer?

I put one in as soon as I heard you on the stairs.

I've had my eggs for the week, Mrs. Sheenan.

Not to worry, we've got six from Mrs. Custance.

I don't know how you do it.

Well, you helped.

I gave her that smelly old sweater of yours to unravel for wool.

All the eggs are yours, really.

I liked that jumper.

I thought...

Men! You're as bad as my Tom.

Good day at school, boys?


Did you behave yourself today, Bob?

Yes, Mr. Archer.

Ha-ha-ha-ha! Why don't I believe you?

I've put one spoonful of real tea in it.

You look like you could use it.

Thank you.

Well, it was a m*rder enquiry, but it doesn't look like I'm going to be involved.

Was it a juicy one?

Music: Key To The Highway by John Lee Hooker ♪ I got the key to the highway ♪
♪ And I'm billed out and bound to go ♪
♪ I'm going to leave here running ♪
♪ Because walking is most too slow ♪
♪ I'm going down on the border... ♪

Dad! Dad! Come and see!


It's a Jaguar!


Na gut.


Yeah. I don't like the look of his liver.

Explain to me.

It's diseased.

It's most interesting. I... I've never seen one quite like it.

I wonder how your antique dealer carried on.

How near to death by liver failure was he?

I wouldn't have given him more than... two months.

What about the eyes?

I saw something like that in the Great w*r.

Glare from magnesium shells.


I want all his internal organs and his eyes packed and ready to be flown to Berlin on the morning flight.

Then there is nothing to keep me.

Sir John, your knowledge and experience is invaluable.

Please, finish the postmortem so a report can accompany the remains.

But for now, you will all leave this room.

Except for Inspector Archer.

You were on your way to a party?

There's a reception at The Savoy in your honour, Standartenfuhrer Dr. Huth.

Kellermann. He has the subtlety of a pig.

What else does he have planned for me?

General Kellermann thought you might like to see the Houses of Parliament on the way, sir.

As I say, a pig.

Does that mean you would or wouldn't like to see the Houses of Parliament?

It means, my dear Superintendent, that I do not have the slightest intention of spending the evening watching a roomful of army officers and their overdressed women guzzling champagne and, between mouthfuls of smoked salmon, telling me the best place to buy Staffordshire china.

Very well, then, I'll take you to your accommodation on Brook Street.

You will take me to my office.

And then you will requisition a car for your permanent use.

As I need you to be mobile, Inspector Archer.

We are going to be busy, you and I.



In some way, it's a shame the battle spared such dreary areas.

I'm sorry.

Your wife was k*lled in one such action.

I'm afraid the blame is Winston Churchill's.

None of this need have happened.

Well, from what I heard, he paid his debt.

The rumours, the V sign in the face of the f*ring squad, Pure propaganda put out by your Resistance.

So... this Peter Thomas m*rder...?

Well, it looks like a black-market k*lling.

A flat full of military cigarettes, alcohol, petrol coupons.

We already have a statement from a neighbour saying that a Luftwaffe Feldwebel was a frequent visitor.


You sent the files to the Feldgendarmerie straightaway.

And within the hour, the SS claimed them back and a teleprinter message from Berlin instructed the army to pass all papers back to you.

But that instruction could've only come from the Supreme Commander.

Heil h*tler.


Of course, you speak excellent German.

You took modern languages at Oxford. Pembroke.

I was at King's College.

Happy times there.

How long did you resist working for us?

I'm not sure General Kellermann gave me any choice.

That is the problem with having a reputation.

You don't think for a minute it's a black-market m*rder.

In my experience, the truth doesn't offer itself up just like that.

No loose ends?

A railway ticket, from Bringle Sands.

It's a resort on the South Coast.

I know exactly where it is.

You are having misgivings about this investigation.

You got Sir John Shields to perform the autopsy.

He's the top pathologist in the country. Physician to His Majesty.

Your point?

If you have a strong suspicion of what Peter Thomas was suffering from, I ought to be told.

Have you seen anything like this before?

No, but some of my staff have.

They inform me it is far more dangerous than any Black Death or such.

So it's infectious?

We are fine.

And what caused it?

Something at Bringle Sands?

Quite possibly.

Very nice. Now, get rid of all this silly junk.

Get lockable filing cases and a metal desk.

Telephones, four direct lines that do not go through Kellermann's switchboard.

And I need a table and chair in the corridor for my sentry.

Where's my sentry?

Sentry, sir?

Don't stand there repeating everything I say.

Get on to the SS guard commander at Cannon Row, tell him to send a sentry and half-a-dozen men to clear this furniture out.

I doubt there'll be workmen available at this time of night, sir.

I will be in conference room number three with Major Steiger.

I expect it all to be done before I return.

And in the morning, I want to see a team piecing together these ashes you found in the grate at the m*rder scene.

Talk about a new broom, eh?

I haven't seen this much activity since the night the invasion started.

Four new lines, tested and functioning.

Are you all right?


Sylvia, she, er... she's gone and done it.

She... she walked out and grabbed a handful of blank SIPO passes, from what it looks like.

She's got herself on the list.

Damn it!



Standartenfuhrer Huth's office.

Archer. Splendid.

Is the Standartenfuhrer with you?

He's in number three conference room, sir.

Unfortunately, he's left orders that no calls should be put through to him there.

That doesn't apply to me, of course, but there appears to be something wrong with the phone in the conference room.

That's probably because the Signals staff are changing the lines, sir.

What? At this time of night?

Changing phones in my office?

Standartenfuhrer Huth's a very busy man, sir.

Which is why he never arrived at The Savoy.



Alle raus, bitte.

Should I come over there now?

Standartenfuhrer has just walked in, sir.

Do not discuss the workings of this office with outsiders.

It was General Kellermann, sir.

How do you know?

I'm reliably informed your drunken friend here can manage a fairly convincing imitation of General Kellermann's English, for instance.

The Peter Thomas m*rder investigation is part of an operation we have codenamed Schlussende, the Final Act.

I shall be notified of all arrests in connection with this case and no information goes outside this room without my written permission, or that of Reichsfuhrer Heinrich Himmler. Clear?

Unforgettably so, sir.

Any breach of this instruction is not only a capital offence under Section 134 of the Military Orders of the Commander-in-Chief Great Britain, for which the penalty is a f*ring squad, but also under Section 11 of your own Emergency Powers German Occupation Act 1941, for which they hang offenders at Wandsworth Prison.

Would the hanging or the sh**ting come first, sir?


We must always leave something for the jury to decide. Gentlemen.



Dad! Was it an all-night party?

If only.



Thank you.

Oh, I'll make something for you.

No, I'm fine.

Boys... I've got a car.

So I'm going to take you to school in half an hour.

Is it the Jaguar?

No, it's not.

You're not going back there without a rest?

I'm just getting my second wind.

The bathwater's still warm. Only the children have used it.

Woman down the street saw an ambulance train going south through Clapham Junction Monday.

It was full of wounded German soldiers.

Two Red Cross coaches on the back.

I'd be careful who you tell that to, Mrs. Sheenan.

Oh, I wouldn't tell anyone, that block warden might hear about it.

But I can talk to you, Mr. Archer.

Well, in the towns, it's just the odd m*rder here and there of German soldiers.

But in the country, there are bigger groups ambushing whole German patrols.

So, the fighting's not over?

There's still a chance?

Well, I'm afraid the winter's coming.

You mean the cold will get them?

Well, they can't light fires for fear of smoke.

There'll be no leaves left, so no cover.

Spotter planes will have it easy.

I think that'll be it for the Resistance.

Except maybe in the north, in the unoccupied zone.

Yeah, they say it's bad up there.


Those poor boys!

You think I'll ever see my Tom again?

I don't know what to tell Bob.

The Germans have promised to return all POWs as soon as possible.

What do the Germans care?

They're getting cheap labour.

What can our government offer in exchange?

Give it time, Mrs. Sheenan.


You mustn't let Bob see you unhappy.


The POW camps are more comfortable than the internment ones.

I know that's not much consolation.


Do you work for the Gestapo?


I'm a detective with the Metropolitan Police. You know that.

The Gestapo are at Scotland Yard.

They're in the building next door.

And they're mostly all Germans.

But you work with the Gestapo?

Is that what you've heard?

The boys at school said so.

I don't.

Dad... me and some of the boys at school were wondering, could you get a Gestapo badge?

The Gestapo don't have badges, Douggie.

They use identity tags.

Well, could you get one of the SS armbands?

Or one of the silver-wire SD badges?

Yeah. No-one at school's got one of them.

Boys... one day, the Germans will be gone.

And we'll carry on and get back to the way we were and how things were.

If we let things fall apart now because they're here, then it's going to be difficult or impossible to get back there.

The law is all we have.

And, quite frankly... I'm it.




You shouldn't be anywhere near here. Are you mad?

Don't you know Whitehall has regular Gendarmerie patrols?

When you stole those passes, you ended up on every Gestapo list in the occupied zone.

Christ! It's not for you, it's for The Mall sh**ting.



There's a side door.


They'll have plain-clothes men watching for anyone acting suspiciously.

What the hell are you doing?!

Herr Unteroffizier?

What are you doing?

You're hurting my wrist, you bloody bastard!


Bitte. Next!

The Germans view those SIPO passes you took as just about the most valuable piece of paper a foreigner can be given.

A foreigner?!

That's not how I meant it.

Yes, it is.

That's what we are, as far as you're concerned... foreigners.

The Germans are the ones with the right to be here and we're the intruders who have to bow and bloody scrape.

Calm down!

Get your hands off me, you bloody Gestapo bastard!

Have you been drinking?

So what?



Look at you. You're pathetic!

I've got friends who don't go in fear and trembling of the hunt.

You wouldn't understand that, would you?

No. Too busy doing their dirty work for them.

I'm a bloody fool for not having guessed.

You're Resistance.

Why are you here?

And what have we been doing these past months?

Lucky old me, it's not your job to hunt us down.

Not yet, anyway.

What do you want, Sylvia?

Have you run out of information to hand on?

Well, we both got something, didn't we?

You didn't answer my question.

Maybe I wanted to tell you, you needed to be more careful.

There are some a lot more determined than me.

I don't doubt that.

They'd do anything to make people like you cooperate.

I've said enough.

What do you mean?

Just leave me alone!

What are they going to do?

I don't know!

Who are they?!

Heroes, not collaborators, like you lot!

I'm doing this for all of us, you bloody fool!

Give me a name.


I don't know his surname.

He comes and goes, he always has a different scheme.

Now it's you.

Me? Where can I find him?


The Coach And Horses, Hammersmith.

They say he took out a Panzer with a tyre iron.

Cost him his arm.

If you've only just guessed about me, I suppose you haven't twigged to Harry yet.


Morning, Jimmy. Busy?

All these bloomin' arrangements for the friendship ceremony between them and the Russkies.

Maybe it's a good thing I'm borrowing you, then.

Oh, great. Plain clothes?

Get changed.

Yeah, well, I keep my old suit in the locker since last time.

Good. I'll walk with you.

I need you to check on someone.

A character called John.

He's a regular at The Coach And Horses.

Upper Mall, Hammersmith. Missing an arm.

I would do it myself, but I think he knows me.

This isn't strictly police business.

He may be Resistance.

So I understand if you don't want to do it.

If you think it needs to be done, sir, I'm in.


Draw a p*stol and keep your wits about you.

All right?

Anything wrong, Super?

I ran into Sylvia.

Christ! Is she all right?

Of course, you knew she was Resistance, didn't you?

Just like you know everything else.

Well, you can hardly blame her.

Having your parents k*lled like that.

Oh, I, er... did some digging.

That American dame, seems to be who she says.

Barbara Barga has quite a reputation.

Do you think she could be Resistance, too?

It seems everyone is.

A Yank? Why would she get involved?

I don't know.

But she had a rendezvous at that safe house.

Are you sure you're not talking yourself around so you can go and see her again?



Sir, a barman gave me information.

He's called John Spode.

I've got the address.

Well done. Where?

Peveril Lane, Hammersmith.

I've gained access with a bit of force, if you know what I mean.

All right.

This was hidden.

A team of scientists.

That must be our man... John Spode.

And that's our d*ad man from Shepherd Market.

William Spode.


Check on those scientists in the picture.

Will do.

That from the Peter Thomas sh**ting?

The William Spode sh**ting, we can call it now.

I'll bet there's no such person as Peter Thomas.

And this places his younger brother at the sh**ting.

My guess is he'll be back for this.

So he k*lled his own brother?

It's hard to imagine.


Find out the part number and how to get a replacement.

Letter from a school, confirming position of assistant music teacher.

Beech Road!

What is it, sir?

That's my son's school.

He's after Douggie!

Call Central! Get them to put a watch put on this place in case he comes back!

Why would he want your son, sir?

John Spode's Resistance.

They want to control me and get to me through my son.

What else could it be?

Call Harry Woods!

♪ I vow to thee, my country ♪
♪ All earthly things above ♪
♪ Entire and whole and perfect ♪
♪ The service of my love ♪
♪ The love that asks no questions ♪
♪ The love that stands the test ♪
♪ That lays upon the altar... ♪

Douggie would have been safe with me.

How the hell do you know?!

Schlussende, the Final Act.

It would have the ability to wipe out an entire city.

Don't go home without me, will you?

We need nothing of you, except loyalty to your country.

We all of us have to take risks, Douglas.

We've taken one by telling you as much as we have.

Don't go back there and say no deal.

What if I did?

Then they'd k*ll you.

You know too much now to be allowed to stay uncommitted.

I'm going to give you a lesson you will never forget.

I'm worried about you, Doug. Being Huth's man.

It doesn't look good to some people.

Don't turn your back, man, this is your doing.

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