03x02 - m*rder and the Maiden

[bunniefuu]

(Pants and whimpers)

(Wire mesh rattles)

(Chokes)

♪ Theme music ♪

(Soldier shouts orders)

(Sighs) The bracing scent of aviation fuel and grease.

What happened to that one, Miss?

Gravity I'd say, Dot.

Ah, Group Captain Lyle Compton!

Phryne!

This is my assistant, Dorothy Williams.

Ah. Pleasure, Miss Williams.

Hello.

Are you interested in planes? I can take you for a spin.

Oh, no, thank you. I mean, I am interested, but...

But mainly in how they stay up.

Oh, well, perhaps a tour of the base then.

As you can see, our boys are hard at it, preparing for another air show on Saturday.

Help our battered reputation.

Yes, the newspapers certainly made a meal of your last mishap.

Yes. Well, at least no-one was k*lled.

Pity it's such a dangerous game, flying.

Not half as dangerous as that machine, I'll bet.

How fast?

With this tail wind, I'd hazard a guess at 132 miles per hour.

Prove it.

(Engine sputters and starts)

What was our previous best?

117. Colchester Airfield, 1919.

Dot.

Miss, no.

Watch the planes, Dot.

Hold on tight.

If you insist.

Phryne: Whoo-hoo!

Hugh: On your way, then.

Full rigor mortis. Must have happened last night.

Perhaps she was strangled, sir.

No marks on the wind pipe.

Did those boys recognise her?

No, they don't think she's a local.

No purse, not even a coat.

Nothing to identify her.

Just a scrap of paper and a set of keys.

Sir.

That's a serious boot print.

And where around here would we find a serious pair of boots?

Man: Now, this plane was a favourite with Wing Commander Harry Cobby, lead ace with the Australian Flying Corps.

From 29 victories in less than a year, Distinguished Service Order, Distinguished Flying Cross, and Two Bars...

(Men laugh)

They're a tricky lot. Union blokes, not m*llitary.

Wouldn't trust them to keep a kite airborne.

Were you a pilot before you retired, Mr Greaves?

Uh, no. No. I'm just happy to be part of it these days.

But once flying is in your blood, that's it. Nothing like it.

Up above the clouds, sun shining. Like being in heaven.

I'm sure it is.

Phryne: The papers practically accuse the mechanics union of sabotaging that plane.

Well, somebody did.

The fuel was deliberately contaminated.

Is that why you called me in?

It gets worse, I'm afraid.

One of my men failed to report for duty this morning.

Flight Lieutenant James Manning, the officer who walked away from that wreck, hell bent on finding out who was responsible.

You think he asked too many questions.

I hope not.

And another onslaught of bad publicity could be the death of us.

This needs a... a delicate touch.

Squadron Leader Willis Jones is organising our air show.

A challenging exercise in public relations, I gather.

Yes. Apart from the technicalities.

We have other flyers but Manning is a... one-off.

When did you notice he was gone?

After formation practice yesterday.

Anything missing from his quarters?

His uniform is gone, his wallet. Everything else is untouched.

Is there anyone he was particularly close to who might know why he disappeared?

(Knocking, door opens)

The police to see you, Sir.

Jack, what on earth are you doing here?

Same thing as you I imagine, Miss Fisher.

Detective Inspector Jack Robinson.

Group Captain Lyle Compton. That'll be all, Jones.

Group Captain, a woman has been found dead near your perimeter fence.

Dead?!

I was aware there was an incident.

You didn't know?

No.

Um... Compton and I are old friends.

I was here on another matter.

I'll need a list of names of any personnel who left the base in the last 24 hours.

No-one was authorised to leave the base, I can tell you that right now.

What about unauthorised?

Phryne.

Who was this woman?

We don't know, as yet.

This has no connection with the Air Force.

If I find a connection?

There'll be a thorough investigation.

Keep me informed, Inspector.

You'll find me at the morgue, Miss Fisher.

(Door opens and creaks)

(Door closes)

I can't promise to keep all your secrets, Compton.

Not if it stands between Jack and bringing a m*rder*r to justice.

At least be discreet.

Please. Keep me posted.

Dotty.

What... what are you doing here?

I'm here on official business, Hugh.

Already?

I know Miss Fisher has a nose for trouble, but this is a m*llitary base with g*ns and men.

It could be very dangerous.

The w*r is over, Hugh.

I know...

And sometimes Miss Fisher needs me to do dangerous things, like be a hostage or pretend to be a racing car driver, or even... go up in a plane.

What? You're terrified of planes.

Collins.

Sir.

Phryne: Jack, wait.

You know I can't resist a m*rder, if it is a m*rder.

I found these by the body.

The missing airman's service number.

I think I found your connection.

Phryne: It's a chilly night to be out without a coat.

Severe dehydration and asphyxia.

My bet, some kind of poison.

Found that inside her clothing. I presume it was around her neck.

Those keys.

She had better access to the Air Force than I do.

Perhaps Flight Lieutenant James Manning gave her access.

Perhaps they were lovers.

Or maybe just old friends.

I met Compton back in England at the end of the w*r.

I flew a couple of low-key missions with him, that's all.

No lighter and only one unlit cigarette.

But a serious smoker.

Missions, as in intelligence.

Not officially.

(Reads) 'Flight... earth... eyes turn skyward...

.. have been and there... will always long...'

A love letter. Sounds very literary.

And very aeronautical.

So Captain Courageous is entrusting Mata Hari with another secret mission.

Compton was a long time ago, Jack, and it wasn't like that.

Well, yes, it was, but...

You know what it's like when you think life is fleeting and you might die at any moment.

I always feel like that when I'm with you.

Call with any details that might help Missing Persons.

The m*rder*r seems to have made off with anything that might establish who she was.

(Door opens and closes)

But perhaps not where she's been.

Dot: 4.5 pence fare, 9 sections.

So... one, two, three...

Where would I find the headquarters of the Victorian Amalgamated Mechanics Association?

European Club, that's where you'll find them.

Hobnobbing with Bert's red-ragger mates.

If memory serves me, that's somewhere on Sydney Road?

Sydney Road, Brunswick.

We know James Manning was nosing around them, trying to find out who sabotaged his plane.

Perhaps that's where he met this mystery woman.

Does that match our ticket?

Yes, Miss. This ticket will get you there.

Sounds like you ladies need an escort to the wrong side of town.

Any excuse to see you-know-who.

Both: Who?

Some Russian sheila he's soft on. She works in the cloak room.

She hemmed me trousers, that's all.

Don't mention Mr Butler, or the stock exchange.

And don't say you send out your laundry.

I doubt your comrades will care who washes my Herminie Cadolle lingerie.

And don't talk like a toff.

Sorry.

(Knocking)

(Traditional Russian music, low chatter)

You can get out. You're no use to anyone.

Let me just say that this... this is Australia. Not Russia!

So now you've got a problem with the revolution!

What are you - a bloody idiot?

You think a bunch of words is going to change the world?

Why don't you hand your card in? Go on, throw it on the table.

Mr Higgins, my boss needs a little help.

Alright.

Miss Fisher. Rupert Higgins. Pleased to meet you.

Albert here claims that as far as capitalist bosses go, you're not too bad.

Noblesse oblige. I do my best from the high, Mr Higgins.

Like you, I'm sure.

This couple you want to know about.

Yes.

This is James Manning.

m*llitary.

Air Force.

Though I doubt he would've shown off his uniform in here.

And I'm not sure that they were a couple.

He's not familiar.

What about the woman? Tall, dark-haired, late 20s.

There was a young woman that started coming to our meetings a few weeks ago.

Do you remember her name?

That's another thing people don't show off in here.

We've been raided too many times.

Seditious publications.

I remember she did pick a few pamphlets up afterwards.

If it's the woman you're after, she seemed smart, educated.

So she was alone.

That's why I noticed her.

This isn't the kind of place frequented by single women.

Apart from a few remarkable exceptions.

Why are you trying to track her down?

That's the problem, we're not.

She was found in bushland early this morning. Suspected m*rder.

No, she never say her name.

I can't believe she's k*lled.

Tatiana, meet Miss Fisher.

Hello. Tatiana Fyodorov.

I know this woman, but she's not my friend. She's my customer.

And she was here last night.

Yes, I see her, but...

I know she looks fancy, but you can trust her.

I see her with a man from here. Higgins. You know him?

Go on, love.

Uh, on the stairs.

He did not see me, but he... he have her arm like this. Strong.

Was he friendly or angry?

They were whispering. I could not hear.

But from their faces, it was important.

Thank you, Miss Fyodorov. You've been most helpful.

Please, don't say I tell you.

Don't worry, we'll keep it under our hats.

What's that?

May I have that coat, the dusty rose one?

It's her missing coat.

Yes. Yes, she left it here.

This is to fix the insides, here.

Thank you. We may need an expert opinion.

The fabric is excellent quality, a silk wool jersey.

So the whole ensemble would've been very expensive.

If I could examine it more closely, I might find a dressmaker's mark.

Of course. Collins.

I also found something in the coat pocket, but you're going to have to play nicely.

Why aren't you at the RAAF, wing walking or something?

Now, that won't score you any points.

I've managed to score a few without you.

European Club - haunt of militant unionists, including the Amalgamated Mechanics and committed red-ragger Rupert Higgins.

The logical deduction with the union trouble at the RAAF, Higgins' file, belonging to an unlawful association charge, dismissed ten years ago.

Sedition charge still pending.

Do you think our victim was passing James Manning information?

It could explain what she was doing near the base with his keys.

What about next of kin on Manning's m*llitary file?

You should be impressed I managed to get his service number before Compton whisked it away.

You know, you and Compton are very similar, Jack.

I think you'd like him.

I don't think one necessarily follows the other.

Alright, full points for that.

A match for the love letter.

I was hoping we might try that new pie cart for lunch.

Were you?

I know we've got a few things to settle before our big day.

Like my job.

Like your job.

But I thought we could also talk about... settling on a date.

So... maybe you could worry about that and leave the investigating to Miss Fisher.

And maybe you can try that pie cart on your own.

I've suddenly lost my appetite.

Dot... (Sighs)

(Knocking on door)

Here's the cast of that boot print, Sir. It's a big one.

At least size 12. Possible match for a flying boot.

In need of repair.

If that's the print near the body, I doubt it belongs to James Manning.

How do you know?

The only other thing I gleaned from his file was his height - 5'6".

Hardly a giant.

No. A men's shoe size 8, 9. 10 at the most.

So we're looking for a tall airman, Sir.

Well, that whittles it down to about 85% of the Air Force.

Bring the car round, Collins.

We're here to see Captain Compton.

I have my orders, sir. Miss Fisher only.

Surely the Group Captain didn't say I couldn't be escorted by my fiance.

Such a... masculine environment is overwhelming for a single woman.

Let me check for you.

Oh, there's no need to escort us. I know the way.

Phryne: Admit it, Jack, being a woman definitely has its assets.

Well, I... appreciate your assets.

Now, if we could hurry up this break-in.

I'm not breaking anything. I'm merely taking a circuitous route.

Keys.

Numbers would have made this a lot easier.

Suggest that to your captain friend.

(Lock turns)

Eureka.

Third time lucky.

Fourth.

Must you be so contrary?

James Manning's locker.

James Manning and Willis Jones.

Can I help you?

Miss Fisher.

Detective Inspector Jack Robinson, meet Squadron Leader Willis Jones.

I've told Miss Fisher everything I know about James Manning.

I'm also interested in another matter - the woman found dead this morning outside the base.

I saw the police car.

We have reason to believe that Flight Lieutenant James Manning knew the dead woman.

What's this got to do with me?

Your boots are a match for a very particular footprint we found beside the body.

You need your right heel repaired.

What?

You also need to tell us more about your relationship with James Manning.

Where did you get that?

Yes, Miss Fisher, where did you get that? As you were, Jones.

You two, with me.

We have good reason to believe both men were at the crime scene.

I'm not interested in speculation.

I am.

What about a love triangle?

I can't imagine that.

Well, it's not that difficult - one woman, two men.

It has been known to lead to conflict.

We need to conduct a more extensive search...

I'm sorry but I can't allow a civilian search on m*llitary grounds.

How do you expect me to conduct my investigation?

Inspector, I appreciate you have a job to do and a public to answer to, but so do I, and at this point in history, I believe my position to be the more precarious.

I do hope you understand.

On another matter, Phryne.

A personal one.

There could never be a love triangle.

Willis and James would never fight over any woman.

Lovers!

I have no proof, of course, but...

If it were to get out, it would be the last straw for the RAAF and for me.

Even so, both of them had something to do with that woman, and if you genuinely want me to find out what happened to James, then you have to give me free access to this place.

(Knocking)

Greaves... please escort Miss Fisher on a full tour of the base.

Wherever she wants to go, whatever she needs to know.

Hello, Hugh. I've come to return your evidence.

How are you going with that postmark?

Uh, good. I'm nearly there.

That town definitely starts with a 'C' and it's nine letters long.

Might help to narrow it down to the suburbs of Perth.

And why would I do that?

Bon Marche. Perth, Western Australia.

Yes, that... that might help but... still not the answer, is it?

Stick to the whole of Australia, then, Hugh.

Can't be easy - m*llitary man in charge of a unionised workforce.

Oh, they all towed the line well enough.

Till the rumours started.

About Willis and James?

I wasn't the only one who saw him sneak out of Willis's quarters at all hours.

The moment he arrived he started work on Willis, preyed on him.

So Willis lost respect.

Hmm.

Then that plane came down and James pointed the finger at the union.

What did he accuse them of - shoddy work or party politics?

Both, and it didn't make Willis's life any easier.

Do you think Willis will be able to pull off this air show?

Without a doubt. He's a better flyer than James ever was.

He can loop the loop and barrel roll like a bird.

Does Willis smoke?

No, never.

Phryne: Mac was right, Jack. She was poisoned.

Mac: By her own cigarettes.

I found that at the back of Willis Jones' desk.

The packet's a match for the cigarette you found near the victim's body.

Except that cigarette was harmless.

The cigarette found in the packet contained ricin.

Blood samples have confirmed it - Ricinus communis.

From castor oil?

From the beans of the castor seed plant, to be exact.

The oil itself isn't poisonous. I'm impressed you're even close.

The Americans and British were experimenting with chemical weapons towards the end of the w*r, until the Hague Convention banned them.

Ricin's deadly.

Hmm, just a few grains.

Particularly if inhaled.

But this hasn't been touched.

The k*ller must have laced other cigarettes in the packet.

Doesn't work fast. It can take days.

(Phone rings)

Perfect way to be absent at the time of death.

It's for you, Inspector.

Your constable seems to have a lead on our mystery woman.

Virginia Forbes went missing from Claremont six years ago.

Six years?

Worked as a nurse at the m*llitary hospital.

Might explain the bandage in her handbag.

Might explain more than that.

James was transferred to Melbourne from the Claremont Airbase in 1923.

That must've been where James and Virginia met.

But if what you're telling me about James is true, whatever happened between them wasn't romantic.

You can see now why Compton needs to be discreet.

No, I don't see.

A woman is dead and he's asking you to withhold information from me.

If he won't cooperate with the police, I'll go over his head.

You seem determined to make this a personal matter.

And you seem determined to make it a m*llitary one.

I don't understand why you have to dance to his tune.

(Door opens)

Hugh: Ahem. Excuse me, Miss Fisher.

Mr Butler just called to let you know that Group Captain Compton would like to see you, urgently.

Thank you, Hugh.

I dance to no-one's tune, Jack.

(Door slams)

Shandy for the lady.

Bert, I can't speak with you. Go, please.

Why not?

That lady, your boss - Comrade Higgins says she's with the police.

He thinks I say bad things about him.

What? You only told the truth. I'll set him straight.

No, Bert, please. There are things you do not know.

(Footsteps approach)

That bastard Higgins! You'll be next!

Some papers went missing three nights ago from here, from the Party.

Nobody knows who to trust.

Well, Higgins can trust you. I'll tell him that.

Does it matter? This woman, if she is dead, she is dead.

I don't want trouble.

No trouble. Just a word. Or two.

Listen to me, Higgins.

It's one thing sorting out some pansy right-winger's politics, but there's no need to touch a lady.

No, please!

Oi, Bert!

Miss Fyodorov needs to appreciate...

She needs you to leave her alone.

Calm down, Bert.

Please.

You could lose your Party membership for this, Johnson.

You could lose an entire set of choppers if you go near her again!

Stop! Or I tell everyone what you do.

Come on, love.

You just quit.

Krest'yanin.

What did she just say?

It's Russian for 'bastard'.

No, it's Russian for 'peasant'.

(Low chatter)

Don't worry, we'll find you another job.

Plenty of places will be lucky to have someone like you.

Thank you, Bert, but... I have some things at the Club I must get.

First thing tomorrow.

Then I must go far away from here.

I am illegal. I have no passport.

Miss Fisher will sort that.

She's got friends in the police force.

You can trust her.

I trust no-one.

Except you.

Compton: Greaves tells me you found evidence in Willis's desk.

Phryne: A packet of cigarettes.

Willis doesn't smoke.

Well, that's what made me curious.

They match the cigarette found beside Virginia Forbes' body.

Our victim has a name now.

Well, your inspector will be happy with that.

Don't you start, Compton.

You two can squabble over demarcation.

I'm interested in the big picture.

Hmm, and how does Jack fit into your picture?

He's not your usual... style.

I don't have a usual style. I think I'm admirably versatile.

Ah, so I am right about Jack.

Too much ballast for lift-off.

Yours or his?

Probably both.

Tempt you with a drink?

Nothing like a drop of brandy at 10,000 feet to warm the heart.

Is that what you're up to?

Remember Madagascar?

God, yes. How could I forget?

It's a miracle we survived that landing.

And then the cyclone raged for days.

Nothing to do but... sit it out.

Though we did manage to think of a few other things.

Ah, the good old days.

How I've missed the thrill of them.

Jack: There must be a connection between the three of them.

If it wasn't romantic, what was it?

Not sure what a red-ragger would have in common with a couple of RAAF pilots, Sir.

Which suggests their rendezvous were clandestine, but it wasn't a very private place to meet.

There was an old sentry box just inside the base.

Bring the car round, Collins.

Sir.

(Car door closes)

(Rattling)

(Low conversation)

Flight lieutenant. These have to be James Manning's.

Condy's crystals. Antiseptic?

Why would he take his clothes off out here?

Oh.

(Siren blares)

Get to the car.

Go, go! Take those!

(Distant barking)

Go that way. Go, go!

Man: Hey, you!

These sentries will fire, Constable Put your hands above your head.

Now.

Get in the car, Hugh.

Drop your w*apon.

Don't sh**t! Don't sh**t.

Don't sh**t!

Compton: Hold your positions, men!

Inspector Robinson, this is trespass!

We were just leaving.

Not with m*llitary property you're not.

Take it up with the Chief Commissioner.

Get to the car, Collins!

Stand down, men.

Jack, wait!

We were just reminiscing!

Where did you find those? And what on earth...?

It's a police matter, Miss Fisher. It's none of your concern.

You keep those eyes turned skyward.

Eyes turned skyward?

That's it, the note by Virginia Forbes' body.

The love letter is a quote from Leonardo da Vinci.

I think I might have found it. Is this it?

'Once you've tasted flight you will...'

Yes!

'Once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been and there you will always long to return.'

How lovely.

A snifter, Miss.

Desperately.

Like Mr Greaves said, like being in heaven.

Except poor Leonardo never got to fly.

Do you think Virginia Forbes could have been an aviatrix?

That, my dear Dot, is a very good question.

Mr Butler, get me a couple of small flat cushions and, Dot, a long bandage from the medicine cabinet.

I'll meet you upstairs in my smalls.

Straight as a celery stick, Miss.

Well, e-except for your... Oh.

Nothing a De Beauvoir's bandeau wouldn't fix.

I should have picked up on her face being so heavily powdered.

And this will explain the Condy's crystals, Inspector.

A strong solution will both darken and roughen the skin.

Meet Flight Lieutenant James Manning, also known as Virginia Forbes.

She swore she'd find a way to join the Air Force and she did.

By assuming the identity of Flight Lieutenant James Manning, who was admitted to the Perth hospital where Virginia was nursing.

The real James Manning was committed to a sanatorium, but Ginny knew he'd been about to be taking up a posting in Melbourne.

So she stole his identity papers and doctored the medical report to say he was fit for duty.

You got to admire her ingenuity.

And an exceptional aviatrix by all accounts.

Goggles and God help you.

That was Ginny.

Did you know about her... forays into the Communist Party?

I knew she was fired up and that she suspected someone in the unions.

She said she had found out who was behind the sabotage.

Any names?

No.

But she said she befriended someone at the Club and was paying them to find her proof.

A Russian girl.

She promised me she would stop as soon as she'd found it.

We know you were with her when she d*ed.

She came back frantic... that night. She... was beside herself.

She was sweating. She...

She couldn't breathe. T-there was no time to go for any help.

She d*ed in my arms.

So you removed anything that might identify her and left her there.

(Paper crackles)

What were you doing with the cigarette packet?

Phryne: I found it in your office.

I don't know... I...

I didn't know what to make of how she'd d*ed.

Did you know they were poisoned?

No, I had no idea.

Thank you. That will be all. We may need to speak with you again.

We need to hold on to that.

He may be lying.

Rupert Higgins could have doctored the cigarette.

Whether Willis m*rder*d Ginny with these or not, why would he hold on to this?

And why is he still so interested in it?

We may need a Russian to help us find out.

Don't reckon they'll be happy to see any of us back in there.

How important is this bag anyway?

I must have it! It is sentimental.

Behind the counter there is a loose floorboard. You just...

He knows, love. You heard her.

You can't just leave after this. Let me help you.

There is one way.

Well, name it. Anything.

I become a new person, a new name. With you, Bert.

Tatiana Fyodorov, will you be my wife?

No!

Man: Come back with the bag.

My bag!

(Grunting)

What's in that bloody bag?

Now, perhaps you'd like to tell us who you really are.

This passport's a fake. It's a good one, but a fake.

You told me you didn't have one.

I am Tatiana Krasnaya.

When did you come to Australia?

After the Revolution.

How well did you know Ginny?

She saw me at the Club, tearing one of Higgins' pamphlets.

So she tells me she knows they are lies too.

And I tell her everything. About Russia.

About my brothers and sisters, all k*lled in the Revolution.

Higgins says they are criminals, but they are only children.

Virginia asked you to do a lot more than just her sewing, didn't she, Tatiana?

You made a deal.

She said she would save me if I steal from Higgins what she wants.

Report to the Comintern.

Yes.

She will tell me the day to fly me to somewhere safe, to a new life, she promised me.

This outlines plans for further sabotage at the RAAF air show this Saturday.

This is definitely the safest place for you right now, Miss Krasnaya, but I need your help.

I speak a lot more Russian than I can read.

Our meeting place.

(Reads in Russian) .. is 'Tuesday, four o'clock'.

That's today.

And 'zhar-ptitsa' is 'firebird'.

The Russian equivalent of the phoenix.

I need to make an urgent phone call to stop an act of treason.

Krasnaya. What kind of name is that?

My father was General Anton Krasny.

He was an advisor to the White Army against the Bolsheviks.

So that cock-and-bull story about you being illegal and having to get married was just a con job.

You're a bloody White Russian.

Bert, I was a child, I knew nothing.

I thought I would be safe with you.

You are a good man, Bert.

You are the kind of man any woman would come to love.

Willis must have known, that's why he kept the cigarette packet.

Those map coordinates, 14-G-3. Here.

The Gallery Park airfield.

Flying off into the wild blue yonder seems more appealing than facing a court martial for accessory to fraud.

Or perhaps honouring his dying lover's last wish.

This report isn't signed.

There's no proof Higgins was behind the sabotage.

Which is why Tatiana needs to keep that rendezvous with Willis this afternoon, and why Rupert Higgins needs to find out about it.

A stakeout?

Preferably with full cooperation from the Air Force.

I'll leave that part to you.

We better move fast.

As always.

I'll put out word at the European Club.

G'day, gents. Got a special tip for Rupert Higgins.

Can you pass it on for me?

Will do.

I think that's everything, Miss.

Your p*stol's been repaired and there's a supply of amm*nit*on, should you require it.

Thank you, Mr B.

Are you sure I can't do anything else, Miss?

No, thank you, Dot.

I know how terrified you are of leaving the ground.

And I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you.

I wish I felt the same way about flying as Mr Greaves does.

He thinks flying's like being in heaven.

He was stuck in a factory in Avonmouth for the whole w*r.

Avonmouth, where they made mustard gas during the w*r.

The CWS?

Chemical Weapons Services, that's right.

This is highly unorthodox, Inspector - police and Air Force joint manoeuvres.

We know who's manoeuvred us, don't we, Captain?

Yes. Well, she always was a wild child.

I can see the taxi cab, Sir.

How you doin' there, Miss Krasnaya?

(Russian accent) Could not pick the difference.

Unless someone asked me to hem their trousers.

Dot, you're in charge.

Yes, Miss.

Here comes Willis now, right on time.

I told the Air Vice-Marshal we were doing extraordinary manoeuvres.

With Miss Fisher involved, I'm sure we can be guaranteed of that.

You think Higgins got the message, Sir?

We'll soon find out.

Wish me luck.

Udachi.

Is this plan gonna work?

We have to wait for them to make the first move.

There's a black motor car approaching. Get ready.

They're right behind you.

(g*nsh*t)

(Cries out)

Get down!

There's another gunman. Let's go.

Go!

(g*nsh*t)

(g*nsh*t)

Dot: Is Miss Fisher alright?

Yeah, yeah, they missed her.

(g*nsh*t)

(g*nf*re)

Jack: Take cover, Collins.

Got him, Miss.

Cec, give us a hand!

Easy, mate.

Bert!

Yeah.

(Engine starts)

(g*nf*re continues)

Drop it! Get on the ground! On the ground!

Get on the ground!

(g*nshots)

(Grunts)

Jack: I'll catch him, Miss Fisher!

(Motor starts)

(g*nsh*t)

Get away!

Happy now you've caught another red for the government?

You won't be locked up for your politics, Higgins.

You'll be locked up because you're a murderous thug.

How's Squadron Leader Jones doing? Have you finished with him?

Not yet, Captain.

We just need a statement about Rupert Higgins and the relationship he was having with a woman who was posing as James Manning.

I assume you'll charge Higgins with m*rder.

The Air Force will most certainly be pressing charges of sabotage.

A woman? James was a woman?

Virginia Forbes. And Rupert Higgins was guilty on many fronts.

But he didn't m*rder her. Did he, Mr Greaves?

Ricin-coated b*ll*ts, produced experimentally at Avonmouth factory where you worked during the w*r.

Later banned and yet there they were, sitting in your locker.

I... I didn't know he was a woman.

And yet you laced his cigarettes knowing he would take days to die, and there are enough enemies at play for you to hide behind.

Well, I thought he was after Willis. Everybody thought that.

Even you.

But you turned a blind eye, even let him be the air show ace, someone like that, someone so... depraved.

Forget the union.

Manning was going to bring down the RAAF all on his own.

Somebody had to do something.

Ginny knew it was dangerous...

.. impersonating an officer.

But it was the only way she could see.

When I tried to warn her off the unions, she said she had no choice.

She would do anything for the Air Force.

Group Captain Compton ordered her to find out the truth and she said she was going to see it through.

And she did.

I think she loved me.

But she loved flying more.

I thought you said pursuing the union was James Manning's idea.

It was originally.

Then I ordered him to follow through with it.

Why did you not tell me?

I couldn't be seen to condone what James was doing.

He was spying.

And you were keeping up appearances... with me.

Well, I'm not in Madagascar anymore. I have... responsibilities.

What a shame.

(Knocking)

Dotty.

Hugh.

I, um...

Um, I...

I want you to know that I only said I was going up in a plane because you didn't think I could.

Well, I'm still glad you didn't.

But if Miss Fisher wanted me to, I would have.

Even if I screamed the whole way or shut my eyes or fainted before we even left the ground...

I know... I... I know. Because you're brave.

And you're smart. I never would've found Claremont without your help.

Y-you're smart and you're beautiful and you're brave and...

.. sometimes it scares me to death.

I just want to be the one to choose what I do.

It's my job.

Well, I guess I'm going to have to find a way of being brave about that too.

So... (Sighs).. what about...

.. Saturday, 14th September 1929?

It sounds perfect.

Two arrests in one day - m*rder and treason.

This calls for a celebration.

Well, I still have a report to write for the Chief Commissioner about a missing Russian emigre due to give evidence at Rupert Higgins' trial.

Excuse me, Miss Fisher.

Albert has telephoned. He said that... that the caviar has arrived.

Thank you, Mr B.

So if the 'caviar' is who I think it is, where is it being sent to?

Tasmania?

So what do I tell my chief?

You can tell him that the Air Force doesn't know either.

That's some consolation.

Even though Compton saved my life.

Literally?

Ten years ago.

He had a chute and he could have bailed, but... he chose to crash-land the plane between two mountains and a ravine.

And we both survived.

Well, no doubt you have more dashing heroes in your past.

If there weren't I wouldn't be here.

To heroes, then.

And to the one as yet unsung hero who has saved me over and over again.

(Glasses clink)

Man: It's Nonna Louisa. I think somebody k*ll her!

I can't help feeling I'm missing half of this conversation.

And I'm happy to keep it that way, Miss Fisher.

Did you just say Camorra?

It's an old Italian secret society.

Concetta. She's an old friend.

Something will be done.

You have no idea how ruthless these people can be!

You tell everybody here what you done!

(Speaks Italian) You k*lled Nonna Luisa!

(g*nf*re)