02x04 - Episode 4

[bunniefuu]

Have I got a story for you, Mrs B.


k*lled a man. I don't believe him.

A stranger gave you a new suit?

Lovely evening.
For ducks.

And then today, a beautiful woman
turns up and invites you to a party?

It's the suit, Trottie. It's lucky.

He just rushed in,
went for the till, and went for me.

You punched him?
I hear the crash, something breaking.

I thought it must be burglars,
so I called the police.

So your husband rang you from the
airport... But he never came home.

That's why I'm here,
to report him missing.

-Lovely suit. -It should be.
-Kleinmann's. You know them?

The suit went missing.

Dr Calder still hasn't done the
report, sir. The body never arrived.

Terrible shame. It would've been
an awful lot easier for you this way.

HE GROANS

We shall need the trousers, too.

g*nsh*t

I used to sh**t fascists with this.

You're not fascists, are you?
BELL JANGLES

No. I rather think
they're the other lot.

She whacked him with her umbrella,
Book.

Well, I suppose we should be grateful
it was a duck-handled umbrella

and not an ice pick.
Sometimes brute force is necessary.

We tried it the subtle way.

That's my friend Jack down there.
I do hope he's all right.

He's not dead.
I don't think so, anyway.

Well, it probably
won't affect the outcome.

Treason remains a capital crime.

So however this case progresses,

I think I can promise
the last thing you see

before the bag goes over your head
will be me eating an ice cream.

g*n c*ck Drop 'em!

I'd do as she says if I were you.

She's absolutely merciless.

TRIGGER CLICKS
Bugger! It's always doing that!

You won't see us hang, Mr Book.

In fact, you'll never see us again.

What have you done with Ted Craik?

Who?

In our family, Maxie,
we never talked about politics.

Of course not.
Your Uncle Dury was a Tory.

He stood for the King.

Cried when he saw
the White Cliffs of Dover.

First he did it to fit in,
and then he, well, he just did it.

How was it in your house?
Pinker, I suppose.

Well, Ernie, like a lot of people
who left Lithuania in a hurry,

my ma and pa exchanged one religion
for another.

I took it, too. So did Ruthy.

Rent strikes.

Selling the Daily Worker.

Mayday picnics in Victoria Park.

It was just what you did
in those days. Just life.

Until Hitler signed his pact
with Stalin.

Yeah, yeah, well,
that was no picnic.

JACK WINCES

Does tea help with concussion?

Tea helps with everything.

So, young Jack here gets himself
a lovely new suit,

courtesy of Mr Maxie Kleinmann.

Didn't you think
that was a teeny bit suspicious?

I suppose. I don't know.

I mean... who wants to look
a gift horse in the mouth?

Didn't work out for the Trojans.
He said it was a pig.

Intended for someone else, then.

My guess is that Jack
turned up by mistake

and then a plan was set in motion,
a plan B.

I'm still confused.

Pigs? Horses?

Plan B was a woman in furs.
Yes, a lure.

A very alluring lure.

Who's this?
A Mr Ted Craik,

chess player, currently missing.

There's an east wind
blowing over this whole case.

That's who I think our friend
with the umbrella is working for.

-The Russians?
-But they're onour side, aren't they?

I'm afraid the alliances of the w*r
are ancient history, Nora.

There's a new conflict brewing.

A distinctly chilly one.

So, after Jack got his suit,

there was an altercation
at Mr Kleinmann's tailor shop.

A man calling himself Martin Eden
was k*lled.

Upstairs, Mr Kleinmann's wife
and granddaughter.

Mr Kleinmann claims to have k*lled
the intruder in self-defence,

which is palpably absurd.
BELL JANGLES

Hello?
Not today, thank you.

I'm going to exercise
my right to silence.

Never had that in the old country.

You've arrested me, so charge me.

Charge me, Ernie. I'll plead guilty.

-Ruthy and Hannah, they've told you what they saw.
-Have they?

It all fits. It's seamless.

You may doubt Ruth.
She's loyal to me.

But Hannah, little Hannah,

she told you, she saw that man,
that terrible man, dead!

Wallop! I k*lled him, Ernie,
because I had no choice,

like you have no choice.
So have done.

Get me in that dock.
Let an English jury decide.

Yeah, an English jury
sometimes shows its prejudices.

Oh, God, all right, Maxie.
Have it your way.

But we still don't know
who this Martin Eden actually was.

No, and his body never arrived
at the mortuary.

Blimey!
Which is a great pity.

I was particularly interested in hearing
about the contents of his stomach.

Why?
I think his last meal was borscht.

-Borscht?
-It's a kind of Russian soupmade from beetroot.

Meanwhile, Mr Kleinmann's
granddaughter's passport

was issued in Berlin while she was
living in the Russian zone.

And Ruth Kleinmann is at home
under police guard.

What happened to Mr Kleinmann?

Maximilian Kleinmann,

you are charged with the m*rder
of an unidentified man

on the 8th of November, 1946,

at 18B New Burlington Street,
contrary to common law.

It is my duty to warn you that anything
you say may be taken down in writing

and may be used in evidence
against you.

All right. Find him a cell.

Away from the drunks,
if you wouldn't mind, Morris.

JACK: But you said he was innocent.
I said he didn't k*ll a man

with a single punch,
which is a little bit different.

Do you know who did?
Nowhere near, I'm afraid.

But perhaps we should tackle
a few more proximate mysteries.

-Like what?
-Like why are you sittingin my shop in your underpants?

BOTH LAUGH

HE GROANS

This way.

What? What is it, Morris?

It wasn't one of ours, sir.
What?

DOOR SLAMS AND LOCK CLICKS

The ambulance that took the body.

What was it, then?

Body snatchers
went out with the Ark!

Yes, sir. But whoever they were,
they... did snatch a body.

-Shame I wasn't there when you charged him.
-Well, I couldn't put it off any longer.

Have you informed Mrs Kleinmann?
Yes.

I should like to have seen their
reactions, particularly Hannah's.

So, this Martin Eden book...


You read Russian?
I read numbers.

-Price, one rouble.
-Bargain. -COIN RATTLES

Right money for once.
Where did you get this from?

The floor of Mr Kleinmann's shop.

Here, have another.
COIN RATTLES

No news of the missing body?
Not a peep.

It's the suits, though.
It's the suits.

Ted Craik arrived at the airport
in a fetching Maxie Kleinmann number.

And the spilling of the soup on it,

well, that was a con, surely,
to steal the thing.

I don't doubt it.
But why did they do it?

Well, maybe Maxie
sewed something into the lining,

for Ted to take
to his friends in Moscow.

Why not just cut it out
and hand it over?

Why leave the suit behind?

And why the big scene?
Not very hush-hush, is it?

Then there's the second suit, stolen
off Jack's back by a very rum crew.

Maxie Kleinmann
must know who they are.

We need to persuade him
to unbutton himself.

Yeah, this is a Kleinmann job.
It's the same cut.

Pinstripe's different, though.
Finer.

More lines than the one
that Kleinmann gave me.

Looks that way, doesn't it?

Hard to tell
from a newspaper photograph.

I wonder.

Not something inside the suit...

but the suit itself.

If only we still had Jack's.

We might have the next best thing.

-Hm?
-When we escorted Jackfrom the Chalcot,

someone took a picture of him.
Yeah, yeah, that's right.

We?

Oh, I took along a friend.
For insurance.

This photographer
wasn't by any chance

a woman with a wooden leg, was it?

As a matter of fact, yes.

Curiouser and curiouser.

Sorry, sorry,
am I missing something?

Didn't you notice her
outside the tailor shop?

We don't have a clear image
of the suit that stayed in Moscow,

but this lady may well have a good shot
of Jack's present from Maxi Kleinmann.

Right. We have to find her.
How?

Initiative. Really, Jack,

how many one-legged female snappers
can there be in London? Vamoose!

Well, I...
I'll go, too. Insurance.

Now, what have we got on ciphers?

CAR HORN BEEPS

COINS RATTLE

COINS RATTLE

Here we are.

Ah, marvellous! Where was it?

Between something on lichens
and something on liverworts.

Of course.
Cryptograms and cryptogams.

Cryptogams?
And cryptograms. All quite logical.

Though a little confusing
if you're not a botanist, I suppose.

Hm. What about this one?

"After I got the knife away,"

"he tried to bite off my nose."

Is there a clue in here,
do you think?

Don't know, I've never read it.

I haven't read everything, you know?
I had three goes

at The Brothers Karamazov.
Too many exclamation marks.

CHURCH BELL RINGS This is it.

BELL JANGLES

BELL DINGS

-Afternoon. India Flynn?
-Yeah?

Queen of the snappers?

You flatter me. Princess maybe.

We need a favour from you,
Your Royal Highness.

Oh, yeah?
We've sort of met before.

Don't think so, love.
Yes.

You took a shot of us
coming out of the Chalcot.

Did I now?
Yeah.

-Where is that picture?
-It's stillin the camera.- We need it.

-Oh, yeah? -Yeah.
-What's in it for me?

-We'd just like to see it, that's all.
-You seem awfully keen.

It'll have to be worth my while.
We'll discuss when we see the picture.

OK.

Won't be two ticks.

PHONE LINE RINGS

PHONE LINE RINGS

RECEIVER PICKS UP

LOCK CLICKS

DOOR HINGES SQUEAK Five minutes.

Must be exhausting, this,
Mr Kleinmann.

"Did the plan work?
Did I stitch that suit properly?"

"Is the right man wearing it?"

I know my stuff.
You do.

I have my talents, too.

What are they?
Oh, I read.

Anything. Everything.
It's quite the compulsion.

Penny dreadfuls, festschrifts,
problem pages... code books.

People seem to think I'm good at it.
Bully for you.

A suit can tell a story, too.

It's harder for me to read,
of course.

I'm used to black marks on a page,

not long, lean lines of thread.

Is that what this is?

Oh, Mr Kleinmann.

Did something disturb
your placid surface?

I believe I saw a ripple.

All sounds a bit far-fetched to me.

Well, that's espionage for you.
If it wasn't far-fetched,

the other side would pick it up
right away.

I'm sure I'll work it out.

But you could give me a little clue
if you like.

No?

Why not?

Because the power of a secret

is in its keeping, Mr Book.

You're playing a dangerous game,
Mr Kleinmann.

You might hang for it.
I won't hang.

What makes you so certain?

Because, Mr Book,
I have faith in British justice.

Do you?

It didn't come out. Sorry.

-What? -The print's no good.
-Happens sometimes.

What about the negative?
Same. Sorry.

Besides,
nobody ever gets the negatives.

You never surrender
what you can't replace.

I took a beautiful portrait
of a naval officer one summer.

Gave him the neg and then he...

strangled an usherette
at the El Saldo.

Would've made a fortune off of that.

-Do you mind if I have a look for myself?
-Er, I bloody well do!

I think you'll find you'll have
to take my word for it... son.

I don't think so.

Let's see what develops, shall we?
You again!

Excuse me.
SHE GASPS

g*nsh*t

DOOR HANDLE RATTLES

THUDDING ON DOOR

g*nsh*t

The negative.

Anything you want. I'm...
I'm not looking for any trouble.

Mild for the time of year, isn't it?

Who are you?

What?

Very good.

BELL JANGLES

SHE HUMS CONTENTEDLY

SHE HUMS CONTENTEDLY

Well, then...

g*n c*ck Ah-ah!

FAST JAZZ MUSIC

TRAM BELL RINGS

WHISTLE BLOWS

How long do you plan
on keeping me here?

Hmph.
Ohh!

BELL JANGLES

You mind?
I do, actually.

Oh, well.

Thanks for the call.

What's going on? Who are you?

As far as you're concerned,
Mrs Book, I am the British State.

And this is in defence
of that realm,

and in the words
of a better man than me,

all that lies between Settin
on the Baltic

and Trieste on the Adriatic.

What on earth do you mean?

Well, speaking of large bodies
of water, Mrs Book,

I fear that you've got
a little out of your depth.

This is about the suit.

-Quite right. It's some sort of code.
-Right again.

And you're something to do
with my husband, aren't you?

And what do you mean,
I'm out of my depth?

I was in the International Brigade.

Good for you.

We fought different wars,
me and Book.

You're part of that world,
aren't you? His world.

I cannot lie.

Can't you?

I bet it comes
as natural as breathing.

This is espionage, isn't it?

The great game, or whatever
you're calling it these days.

It doesn't seem that great to me.

Sordid perhaps, but necessary.

Personally, I like a good, clean
fight. I enjoy it, really.

This is different.
All this creeping around...

it's not for me.

Unfortunately, not all of us
can remain so detached.

FAST JAZZ MUSIC

HE PANTS

HE PANTS

-Where's young Jack?
-Oh, he's longgone. With the photograph.

Oh, well.
It's not the end of the world.

They have the negative?

Ohh! I am lost!

Naturally.

Don't meddle again, Mrs Book.

There's a good girl.

How did you lose your eye?

Did somebody poke you
with a very, very sharp stick?

What makes you think I lost an eye?

DOOR OPENS AND BELL JANGLES

DOOR CLOSES

AMBULANCE BELL RINGS

ENGINE REVS

BRAKES SCREECH

TYRES SCREECH

TYRES SCREECH AND BELL RINGS

ENGINE REVS

ENGINE REVS AND BELL RINGS

HE PANTS

ENGINE REVS

Hiya.

HE PANTS

We already have the negative,
but we'd also like the print.

Loose ends, you see.

I don't like them.

Come on, missus!
You've already got me trousers!

JACK GRUNTS

TYRES SCREECH

BRAKES SCREECH

JACK GROANS

JACK GASPS

Ohh!

Oh, clever.

Clever.

Good work, both of you.
Ta.

Hello. This chap's familiar.
Wasn't he...

At Sneed's seance. The one we went
to. Good man in a tight corner.

Evidently. So, we have two suits.
Two nice pinstripes.

Suits in which one might get married,
or go dancing at the Locarno,

or deliver a speech,
a stirring speech,

about deepening
Anglo-Soviet friendship,

or the power of chess, or some such.

But these suits
also have something to say

and the stripes are saying it.
In code.

Now, what kind of code can we convey
using only two elements,

one dark stripe, one light?
Hm.

Binary code, that's what.
How's your maths?

Er, I can give the correct change.
Me, too.

Luckily, there are books to help us
when we run out of fingers.

Light is zero. Dark is one.

Now, here's something we all know.
How many letters in the alphabet?


And what's the binary code for 26?

Hm. Erm...


So, we divide these stripes

into units of five.
Every five stripes is a new letter.

Clear as day in this photograph.
Read from the centre left.

Er... light, dark, dark,
light, light.

That's 0-1-1-0-0, which is 12,

and therefore L,
the 12th letter of the alphabet.

Er, light, dark, dark, dark, dark.

O.What?
Letter O. Next.

Er, dark, light, dark, dark, light.

V.

Er, light, light, dark, light, dark.

E.

Love.
Love. And then?

Light, dark, dark, light, light.
L again.

And the lines all look the same,
so love again?

There we are.
A word repeated across the fabric.

The one that was nicked in Russia,
it is different.

The lines, they're thinner.

Which is why it had to be stolen.
And studied.

So many lines, so much information.

It reads as gibberish,

but maybe love is the key.

Alphabet substitution, I suspect.

Just add that four-letter word
to the alphabet...

shove the rest along

and the legend is revealed.

That's pretty fiendish.
No, no, no.

The delivery is novel,
but the method is, well,



Banal.
Absolutely standard amongst men

with invisible ink on their fingers.
HE CHUCKLES

Can I?
Why don't you have a go?

Speaking of whom, there was a man,
Book. A man with an eye patch.

There was?
He warned me not to meddle,

and by default,
I presume he warned you.

And he seemed to be
perfectly sanguine

about the other side
having the negative.

Was he now?

Hm.

What do we do next?
Nora's going back to her uncle.

I'm going to speak to the Inspector.

We're all going on a little trip.
Ooh. Care to share?

I would draw your attention
to the cleaning fluid,

the shears,
and the Kleinmanns' new house guest.

Hm.

Smells good.
Good and fresh.

I can't bear the tinned stuff.

It was nice to be out. Walking free.

Knowing that nobody
was following you.

And the stuff on the shelves!

After Berlin and the things
we had to eat there.

The things we had to do to get them.

BANGING ON DOOR

CLOCK TICKS

I'll go down.

SHE CLEARS HER THROAT

We were having our tea.

I'm so sorry for the interruption.

I just wanted to go over a few things
with you about your husband's case.

You understand.
It's fine. What do you want exactly?

Well, principally,
to return this order book.

It makes fascinating reading.
Ted Craik is mentioned there.

Oh, I don't know names.
You'd have to ask Maxie.

But you do the accounts,
the, er, appointments.

Maxie knows the customers.
I stay out of sight.

This is a gentleman's outfit.
Gentlemen like to deal with gentlemen.

Maxie!
Ohh!

Little bean.
Ohh!

What am I doing here?

Well, it's about a suit.

Fitting?

Yes.

I think that's probably the word.

Do you have a prior appointment,
Mrs Kleinmann?

-Who is this?
-Mrs Kleinmann, may I introduce my wife,

Mrs Strotford Book.
I shall be relying on her help

if things turn violent.

Mr Kleinmann,
I believe you and Jack have met.

Yeah.

How was the suit, kid?
Trouble.

It's a big crowd,
and there are more to come,

but I'm sure we can make room.
Inspector, would you permit me?

If you can make something from all
these pieces, Book, then certainly.

Let us lay them out, then.

A British chess master, Ted Craik,
goes to Moscow with a suit.

A very special suit.
But Ted's a clever chap,

there are no flies on Ted,
not with that chess master's brain,

and he realises what's been going on,
that he's a dupe.

And he heads back to London
to confront the man

he's realised has been duping him,
here in this shop.

Next, the corpse
known as Martin Eden,

k*lled by a single blow
to the throat.

There was a struggle, a fight
between Pop and the man who died.

But we never saw any Mr Craik. How
do you even know he arrived here?

Because he left
a little of himself behind.

Money scattered on the floor.
Roubles.

-Might have come from Miss Krasinski from the Russian zone.
-No.

We're still using n*zi Reichsmark.
The rouble is useless.

Or from the victim.
A more plausible assertion.

But a Russian agent
would never clutter his pockets

with something so incriminating.
A Russian agent?

Oh, yes, Miss Krasinski.
That's what Martin Eden was.

This is the territory we occupy now.

-Cold territory.
-So the coinswere spilled in the fight

and a bottle of that cleaning stuff
was broken. But who's fighting who?

Well, no disrespect to you, Maxie,

but I wouldn't put you in the ring
with Martin Eden,

or whatever his name was
before he borrowed one from a novel

that did so well in Russia
that to Soviet ears

it sounds the most English thing
in the world.

Bit of a mystery, isn't he?

He just walked in off the street,
I told you.

With his perfect bowler hat

and his perfect pinstripe suit

and his perfect umbrella still furled,
even though it had been bucketing down?

No, Martin Eden
had just been dropped off.

An idealised British gent,

as though manufactured.

Which, indeed, he was. Too idealised.

Apart from the unfortunate beetroot
stain on his tie and handkerchief.

You made a mistake, Mr Kleinmann.

You were expecting a Russian agent
to arrive to collect the suit.

Instead, you got Jack. What was it?

A code word?

Good evening.

For ducks?

BOOK: Martin Eden turned up.

But the suit had already gone.

And then you had another visitor.

Ted Craik.

But where did he go?
A very good question.

The answer to which
Mrs Kleinmann will now supply.

Will I?
Oh, yes.

A single punch can certainly k*ll,

but why engage in hand-to-hand combat
when these are right here?

And they're still here.
Suspiciously clean.

I think their cleanness
is a kind of guilt.

And this.

Versatile stuff,
isn't it, Mrs Kleinmann?

You can use it
to make blood stains disappear.

Pour it on a cloth
and you can knock someone out.

And here it is, in my nostrils,
perfuming the air.

Maxie didn't k*ll that man, did he?

The idea is absurd, isn't it?

Yes, I suppose it is.

Ted Craik k*lled him, didn't he?

Yes.
Why? Come on.

Inspector Bliss is the police.

But I'm not. I'm something else.

And I know.

Self-defence.

Ted Craik came in, he was going to
expose me, go to the police.

Idiot! You are idiot!

I was told to expect someone.

Who else would come
at this time of night?

I must make telephone call!

HE DIALS PHONE

We have problem.
I know what you did, Kleinmann.

THEY GRUNT

MRS KLEINMANN: I tried to intercede,
but someone else got there first.

Martin Eden?
Yes.

With the shears?
Yes.

THEY GRUNT

CRAIK GROANS

CRAIK SCREAMS

EDEN GASPS AND CRAIK GROANS

BOOK: So, what's the answer
to the question?

Where did Ted Craik go?

What did you two do with him

after you'd k*lled him?

What is this?

What is he saying, Papa?

HE GROANS AND PANTS

MUFFLED CRIES

BREATHING SLOWS

MRS KLEINMANN: I had to put him under

so that we wouldn't wake you,
Hannah.

So that the police wouldn't know.

And, er, then...

he went quiet, so quiet!

I didn't know
he was so badly wounded.

The shears must have gone in deep.

I, er, didn't know
I'd given him so much.

It was a mistake!

Are you saying... Are you saying
Ted Craik's still here?

It's hard to get rid of a body,
isn't it, Mrs Kleinmann?

Even when you have an ambulance
at your disposal.

Is that who you're waiting for now?

Your little g*ng of misfits?

Where is he? Where's Ted Craik?

I've been here this whole time.
There's nowhere that...

Er... I don't think so.

Morris!

Ohh!
Sit down.

Bow Street Police Station, please.
Poor soul.

An innocent amidst all this deceit.

Send them in. Yes, the full whack.

Ted Craik was delivered to Moscow,
wrapped in secrets.

The stolen suit
had the important stuff,

gleaned from all sorts of places.

I devised it.

Clever, if I do say so myself.

What a piece of work it was.

It got you your passport, Hannah,

and your trip back from Berlin.

But the second suit was key.

The first didn't make sense
without it.

That was our insurance,

to make sure that they kept
their end of the deal.

Once Hannah was safe,

yes, safely back with us,

then I would release the suit to
the agent who would come that night.

It was a much simpler code
this time. Just one word.

Love.

I was waiting,

expecting the chap
who was to take it away,

expecting the passwords.

But I put the suit
onto young Jack instead.

And then our Russian friend
did turn up.

And... And then Ted Craik.

He'd worked it all out.
He was so angry.

Understandably.

We hid Ted's body. Would have done
the same with the Russian.

But then...
Hannah came down the stairs

and she'd phoned the police.

So... Maxie Kleinmann had to become
the stranger's k*ller.

What else could we do?

KNOCK ON DOOR
Well, that was quick.

It wasn't just for you, you know?

We were ideological people.

I used to love the Soviet Union.
I used to think it was the future.

Thought we had one here. There seemed
a good chance of it back in the '30s.

No more lords and ladies.
No more kings.

No more suits.

We thought we'd all have suits,
Ernie.

Good ones. You disappointed in me?

Of course.
You're a traitor, Maxie. A traitor.

I never pretended to be anything
other than what I am.

Don't come to the trial.

If there is one.

Book.

BLISS: Hold on. Who's that?
CAR ENGINE STARTS

I think, Inspector, this one
has been taken out of our hands.

And perhaps...
it was never really in them.

CAR DRIVES AWAY

BIG BEN CHIMES

I didn't do it for the money.

No, you did it because otherwise
we would've hanged you for treason.

Take it. It'll come in handy.

I gather that the United States
is getting pricey.

What is it? What's happening?

All will be well, Hannah.

All will be well.

Now, come on.

We have a long journey ahead of us.

Will you miss it?

I loved that shop.

But you've got to know
when to bite the thread.

Come on.

BOOK: This isn't over, is it?
The suits. The codes.

You wanted the Soviets
to get that suit.

And the negative.

-Why?
-Well, that would be telling, wouldn't it?

The code on the first suit.

You got Maxie Kleinmann
subtly to change it.

It's wrong, isn't it?
Well, let's say that perhaps love

isn't the answer to everything
after all.

What's it for, the code?

Oh, some secret weapon or other.
It always is.

And will there be consequences
back in Mother Russia?

Oh, no.
I'm sure it'll all just blow over.

BUZZER BLARES

OVERHEAD ANNOUNCEMENT IN RUSSIAN

BUZZER BLARES

OVERHEAD ANNOUNCEMENT IN RUSSIAN

SHE SPEAKS RUSSIAN

OVERHEAD ANNOUNCEMENT IN RUSSIAN

COUNTDOWN IN RUSSIAN

ALARM BLARES

Anyway, good news.

I could do with some.
The hour is at hand.

Documents all sorted out.
Travel permits in order.

-Germany? Yes.
-At last.

So now all you and young Jack
have to do

is pack your lederhosen
and you can be off.

Duchess Alberta.
Have you heard of her?

Vaguely.
Very distant cousin to the King?

Third. Or second once removed.

I'm never sure of the difference
between the two.

And her politics are suspect.

That's putting it mildly.

She and her husband, Guy Windjammer,

rode high on the hog
during the Third Reich.

Strong suspicions
that they were collaborators.

The w*r seems barely
to have touched them.

Now they flit around the world.
Government instinct has been

to give the Duchess a wide berth

in the hopes that
she'll keep from embarrassing us

any more than she already has.

We favour a less passive approach.

Why does that not surprise me?

The Duchess has a rare second folio
of Shakespeare

that she looted from
the Royal Collection some years ago.

So where do I come in?
Well, you see, she sold the folio

to Luther von Bode.

I see.
The Duchess and her husband

will be at the Schloss von Bode
in December.

And now, of course,

you will be, too,

by startling coincidence.
Ah.

This will be where I have to pay
for that free lunch, yes?

Yes! Buy the folio off Luther

and get me some nice,
incontrovertible proof

that the Duchess... is a wrong 'un.

-I'll do my best.
-And it might helpyou to solve your little problem...

with your friend.

Felix, wasn't it?

Felix.

It's funny, you never really notice
what's in front of you, do you,

till you see it through somebody
else's eyes. But look at it.

You just take it for granted.

Even when it's been so bashed about.

Doesn't it make you feel
a bit... insignificant?

No, on the contrary, Trottie.
It makes me feel alive.

Oh?
Glad to be made of flesh and blood.

Not dirty old stone.
SHE CHUCKLES

There's something rather romantic
about it, though, don't you think?

Something that... solid
and unchanging.

Did you ever go to any of the piano
concerts there during the w*r?

Dame Myra Hess?
I was a bit busy.

Oh, of course.
That's an unfortunate name, Hess.

SHE CHUCKLES
It's a bit like Strotford.

HE LAUGHS
Book and I used to go all the time.

She played all through the bombings,
Dame Myra. Extraordinary, really.

Certainly kept our spirits up.

I remember one of the Mozarts,

I was transported.

What is it?

I was just thinking about things
solid and unchanging.

Like... you and your husband.

Oh, Reggie.

You never really notice
what's in front of you, do you?

Until you see it
through someone else's eyes.

We'll cross to the continent
via Ostend.

Belgium?
Yes.

I had hoped to swing by Paris.

Oh, yes, Paris, I wonder.

But diplomatic contortions
of Olympian proportions

have been ex*cuted
just to get us over there.

OK. Into Belgium. And then?

Westphalia, and then into the
British-controlled zone of Germany.

The Allies are conducting
a systematic denazification.

What... sh**ting the buggers?

It's not that simple, Jack.
Winning the peace never is.

Things have to be kept running
or there'll be anarchy.

It's the same old little men in
uniforms telling people what to do.

-Nothing changes.
-Well, hopefully not exactly the same men.

We need to get you some new clobber.

Ah, off the peg will do me.

BOOK CHUCKLES Our destination.

Wurl?

Wurl.

More properly, its castle,
the Schloss von Bode.

My family.
Well, your father's.

You never went there?
BOOK CHUCKLES

It was never really on the cards.

From everything Felix told me
about his father...

I think you should
prepare yourself, Jack.

This might not be the joyous family
reunion you have your heart set on.

I can take it, Mr Book.

Can you?