01x01 - Episode 1

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(Explosions)

(Laughter)

More! More!

More! Another! Another! More!

Woohoo-hoo!

Oh!

Whoo! Get back!

(Laughter)

Circles!

Ooh! Don't want to burn yourself, Stevie.

No.

Stand back, Stevie.

Stand back!

Circles, Stevie!

Circles!

Circles!

Yeah!

Ohh! That was wonderful!

(Laughter)

Well, it's time I got off.

You want any more, Stevie, just look up at the sky.

(Fireworks explode)

He's really grateful, Anton. We all are.

Wasn't it a lot of fun tonight, Stevie?

There was a lot of fireworks. Whoosh!

(She laughs)

You have to calm down now. It's time to go to sleep.

Calm me down, Winnie.

Night-night.

Night-night.

(Fireworks explode)

Michaelis.

Work to do, comrades.

(Church bell tolls)

I need to go out.

Look after the shop.

Of course.

Stevie, go and get Mr Verloc's hat.

Mr Verloc's hat!

Mr Verloc's hat.

Up early today, Mr Verloc.

What brings this about?

Mr Verloc's hat!

Goodbye, Mr Verloc.

Goodbye, Mr Verloc!

(Shop bell tinkles)

Please, sir.

A farthing.

Oi! Mind yourself!

(Bell tolls)

(Brass band plays, children laugh)

Appointment with Mr Vladimir.

(Man speaks Russian)

(Loud thuds)

(Men speak Russian in background)

(Phone rings)

Very well.

This way.

They all know about you.

(Knock at door)

(Speaks in Russian)

(He chuckles)

Doesn't look the part.

Starving proletariat, desperate anarchist, really?

I inherited you from my predecessor, and I'm not sure I really know why.

What use are you to Russia?

I beg your pardon, Your Excellency?

As a secret agent. There doesn't seem to be any point to you.

About three months ago... I gave notice of an att*ck during Duke Romauld's visit to Paris, which was telegraphed to the French police...

You passed a message on, which didn't need heeding, anyway.

But that's what I do, I...

I inform.

I'm an informer... and I've insinuated myself with the anarchists...

You are lazy.

We don't just want warnings, we don't just want things stopped, we want things started.

Started?

You think this is enough?

Do you think it's enough just to produce this?

I've managed to become vice president of the Revolutionary...

The game's about to change, Mr Verloc.

You will start to earn your money here.

You will have to do so much more than sit on a committee and pass on tittle-tattle. So much more.

I'm thinking of cutting you off.

No work, no pay.

(Bell dings)

We're going for a ride.

Where?

(Shop bell tinkles)

Now, Stevie, get the coal in for your sister.

Yes, Mummy!

Coal for my sister.

Coal.

Can I help any of you gentlemen?

Any questions?

Anything you don't see, just ask.

This country is absurd, with its sentimental regard for individual liberty.

Harbouring convicted t*rrorists? It's intolerable.

First Secretary...

I am ideally positioned to prevent...

You must provoke now, not prevent. You must set them to work.

England is in need of a jolly good scare.

An outrage that will summon this country from its slumber.

Unleash a law that will clamp down on the anarchist thr*at.

How?

(Knocks on window)

Now, an attempt upon a crowned head or a president is sensational enough, in a way, though not as much as it used to be.

It's almost conventional.

The sacrosanct fetish of the day is science.

It's become the new measure of progress, of how the world is ordered, of a civilisation moving forward.

And here... we have the prime meridian.

Zero longitude.

The centre point of the Earth that divides the world in two, that orders the world, eastern and western.

One line... emanating... from this building in Greenwich.

Blow up the observatory?

Well, it's a building, so it needn't be particularly... sanguinary.

And you'll have enlisted your friends in the plot, so it shouldn't be too difficult.

Of course, it would be symbolism, but at the same time, it would be sheer, incomprehensible, random madness, without regards for limits or sense.

Pure destruction.

An intention to make a clean sweep of the whole social creation.

And in that madness... is true terrorism.

True terrorism.

Forgive me, Mr Vladimir.

It's contemplation of the actual deed I'm having difficulty with.

How on Earth am I meant to persuade them?

Isn't that the business they're in?

Isn't that the business you're supposed to be in, provoking them?

Well, then, go it alone.

Let everyone think it was your friends' handiwork.

I can't!

I can't...plant a b*mb!

Some encouragement, then, to get you out of your bed.

I want my plan followed through.

And if you fail, however you fail, I will ensure that every radical in Europe knows that you are on our payroll.

They'll k*ll me.

Exactly.

There is a conference in Milan on the suppression of political crime.

The British think they're immune.

Their complacency needs to blow up in their face, literally.

It takes place in a month, and that's how long you've got. I give you a month.

Dynamite, chemicals...

You have carte blanche.

Oi, Verloc. Got any new ones for me, eh?

(Shop bell tinkles)

Gentlemen.

(Scraping of cutlery)

Everything all right?

You leave the door on the latch?

I know the drill.

CLANK Fingers and thumbs!

Why is he so clumsy!

Not yourself tonight, Mr Verloc... is he, Winnie?

Tired, I expect.

(Shop bell tinkles)

Your friends are here, Anton.

Come on, mischief - better make ourselves scarce.

Bring your plate.

There's a good lad.

Hello.

Verloc.

Chief Inspector Heat.

May I, Home Secretary...?

Be my guest.

This is the particular cell we've been following.

Michaelis always protested he was no more than just a lookout for the g*ng that k*lled a policeman.

Now released, he may be looking for revenge.

Struggle and warfare is the condition of private ownership.

It is fatal to itself.

Oh, I see. Capitalism sows the seeds of its own destruction?

So, therefore, we just sit back and do nothing?

Yundt, an unapologetic revolutionary.

He's older and weaker now but he was violent, sir.

We have to att*ck some banks.

It isn't enough to just leave a few bank tellers quivering.

Ossipon. He's wanted all over Europe, sir. Fled his own country.

Here, he writes radical pamphlets.

We cannot wait for a crisis - we have to bloody create one!

Come up with a target we can hit, then!

Verloc.

Runs a seedy shop in Soho.

To be honest, sir. I don't think he's capable of seeing anything through.

Come on!

One that will cause not only destruction... but will actually shock everyone.

We need to show that our intention is to sweep away the whole social creation.

That is true terrorism.

If they are ever taken up by their working class counterparts...

(Bell tinkles)

Well, you left the door on the latch, didn't you?

You're late.

Apologies.

Should anarchists apologise for interrupting a meeting?

That's very good, Ossipon.

What's your opinion?

I beg your pardon?

Verloc is suddenly restless. Thinks we should refashion our tactics.

att*ck the rich. That is the only way.

They nourish their greed on the quivering flesh of our people.

Their jaws drip with our blood so we should spill theirs!

A capitalist is a cannibal!

(Thud)

(Clapping)

Is that the sort of thing you had in mind?

Hurt a few wealthy individuals?

It's meaningless.

Yes. Yes, it is. Quite meaningless.

Not nearly enough v*olence.

Refers to himself as The Professor.

Ironic, really, as he couldn't even remain as a lab technician.

Only a detonator means anything.

You all tolerate my company because I know how chemicals combine.

But I've never heard a peep from any of you about getting your actual hands on them.

What might temper your scorn?

If the conversation were to turn to... bombs?

Will that ever happen?

Look, let us reconvene...

I've spent 15 years in prison. I'll bide my time.

If I weren't too old to escape the blast...

Who cares about the blast?

Just as I thought.

Revolution is not a dynamite campaign.

(Shop bell tinkles)

It's impressive intelligence, Chief Inspector, so what conclusion am I to draw?

Well, you can go to the Conference in Milan, sir.

And you can announce that we can put our finger on every single anarchist in London.

And I give you have my word that as long as we keep our eye on this cell, they are capable of nothing.

Nothing whatsoever.

It appears you have no takers.

Will you help me?

I'll listen to what you have to say.

(Shop bell tinkles)

Was it Yundt?

Mr Yundt!

(He whimpers)

I don't know why you put up with it.

You know what it does to Stevie.

Anton needs an outlet.

If they're in there trying to put the world to rights, I can't begrudge him that.

It's just a bunch of men letting off steam.

Mr Verloc wasn't just letting off steam. You didn't hear him.

He was talking about v*olence, Winnie.

Talking about it?

I remember Daddy doing more than talk about it.

He didn't understand him, that's all!

And you don't understand Anton!

Come on, Stevie. Bedtime.

Kitchen not big enough for two women?

What's wrong?

Headache.

Starting to not feel very well.

Did you remember to take the cashbox out of the shop?

Ever the pragmatist, Winnie!

Well, we wouldn't want your headache getting any worse, would we?

Mind you, you'd have noticed it was lighter than normal.

Takings are down.

I'll do what needs to be done.

What does that mean?

(Crash muffled grunting)

Anton!

Be careful.

I won't let them eat me! I won't let them eat me!

I won't let them eat me!

Don't let them eat me!

Winnie's coming.

Don't let them eat me! Don't!

Stevie!

There's knives here, Winnie. Knives here!

Knives here! Knives here!

Stevie, it's not true.

Help me!

Stevie.

Help me!

No-one's going to eat you or anybody. It's a just a tale.

Help me!

It's just a fairytale.

It's just a bunch of silly men saying the first thing that comes into their heads.

Isn't that so, Anton?

Words, that's all.

Bunch of silly men.

Don't worry, Stevie.

No-one's going to hurt you.

Come on.

Mind the knives.

There's a lot to clear up in the morning, Stevie.

Stevie's made quite a mess, hasn't he?

I can forbear that.

(Birds chirping)

You walked along far too quickly.

As if you were in a hurry.

It's not good at all, really. Amateur.

You're very cocksure all of a sudden.

Oh, Mr Verloc.

Have you not already found me to be a wolf in sheep's clothing?

A lone wolf.

What should I do?

Admire the chitchat of you and your friends every Tuesday night?

That's true.

They talk too much but you are all words yourself.

Provocative ones, mind, but...

I mean exactly what I say. Now be explicit yourself.

Can you supply a b*mb?

I can supply a b*mb. That's one thing.

But the main thing is, will you explode it?

That needs a cool head. And you are a hot flush.

Do you know the most frequent customers to my shop are from Parliament and the pulpit?

The men who uphold the social order of this country are not only rank hypocrites, but their tastes... beyond the limit.

I'd have them dragged out into plain sight and torn apart.

Their skin and their pretence laid bare.

But I must ask you something.

In order to accomplish your mission, would you do so even at the cost... of your own life?

I see.

Look.

What I have in mind is a building, an important building.

Symbolic of this country and everything...

No death, just destruction?

What, you will be a conscientious t*rror1st, will you?

Well, that won't wash, not with me, Verloc.

I prefer to give my stuff to people who are deadly. People who have character.

Who have no illusions about what it is they are in.

Think again.

(Shop bell tinkles)

This isn't quite the excitement people come in here looking for.

Given out at discount, they may yet become receptive to it.

And their passions turning to a different kind of struggle.

Perhaps.

Now here's some excitement given out freely.

Circles!

Circles, circles, circles, circles, circles, circles, Mr Ossipon! Tom!

And very good circles they are too.

Very...round. Mmm?

Can I take this with me?

No! Greedy! Showing only!

Say how many, Mr Ossipon! Tom!

Stevie, let Mr Ossipon get on now.

Not at all.

Now...

(Counts softly in french)

22. 21!

Then have you got room for one more?

One more!

Mmm.

One more! One more, Winnie!

One more!

One more!

There's some scientific fools who dismiss boys like Stevie as degenerates.

I had a doctor inspecting the lobes of his ears once.

As if that might explain something.

Nonsense! He can write and read and draw and he's full of life... because you are.

It seems Verloc and the Professor are having their own private encounter.

Just the two of them?

Not the usual kind of meeting at all, sir.

Let's have our own encounter.

Two whiskies, please.

Thought you might like a bit of company, Professor.

Chief Inspector Heat, Special Crimes Division.

Don't matter what you say about them "revolutionary" friends of yours, you can't really go to the pub with them, can you?!

To be honest, I don't even know why you bother.

Better hobbies out there for a lonely fellow like you to pursue.

What do you want?

Why are you meeting Verloc away from the others?

What are you talking about?

Suddenly I am a "person of interest"?

Actually, you're a person of very little interest.

But if you're going to have independent conversations with the bigger boys in this network, then it's my duty to ask.

You think I'm in thrall to them?

They must seem very exciting for a person with such a humdrum life like you.

You couldn't even remain a lab technician.

Now you want to dabble in a bit of subversion and feel all heroic.

If I am such a fantasist, Chief Inspector... explain this.

You say I'm friendless?

Oh, no, Inspector, I am very attached to this.

I always walk with my left hand closed around this India-rubber ball that I keep in my pocket.

And the pressing of this ball actuates a detonator inside this flask in my jacket.

It's the principle of the instantaneous shutter of a camera.

The tube leads up here and round into the flask.

The detonator is part mechanical, part chemical.

Now, this pressing of the ball, that starts everything rolling.

What? And lead to your own destruction?

And yours... and his and God knows how many more besides.

As for myself, I am the least of it.

What use would you be?

I will have served my purpose.

Oh, I've no doubt the newspapers will give you a very good obituary.

Chief Inspector Heat, "implacable enemy of terror".

The man who kept us safe in our beds.

But you'd be buried alongside me.

Mark no doubt your friends will make an effort to sort us out as much as possible.

Give this up.

To deal with me, you'd require sheer, naked, inglorious heroism.

Do you possess such?

You can't win this game. We're too many for you!

What now, sir?

(Shop bell tinkles)

I've come to see Mr Verloc.

Is he expecting you?

I wouldn't think so.

Anton, you have a visitor.

You still importing from the Continent?

Everything you see here is legal, Chief Inspector.

What about what I can't see, Verloc?

I could have the customs house men down here any time.

Confiscation.

Prosecution. Prison.

What is it you want?

The services of my sometime informer.

It's been two years since I've seen you.

And two hours since you saw the Professor.

Are you following me?

It's all right. It's only him I want.

Have you got an address for him?

Why was it just the two of you?

What did he want?

What did he talk about?

If your associates were to find out that you were being paid by the Russian Embassy to spy on them, it could end in your death.

He wants to supply me with expl*sives.

The meeting ended badly.

He went away.

Didn't trust me.

When do you think he realised you weren't all you seemed?

Did he smell a rat?

Why were you talking about expl*sives?

I was just being provocative.

It's my job.

(Shop bell tinkles)

(Door bangs)

You can't leave. Why would you want to live there?

This is nonsense.

They are homes for the dependents of licensed victuallers.

A good, charitable arrangement from the brewery for widows like me.

An almshouse! Can you credit it?

It will work very well for me!

And what about us?

You must look after your own family.

You don't feel this is your home any more?

I don't do this lightly!

Why are you doing it at all?

I know I'm Stevie's mother. But you are Mr Verloc's wife.

Anton, please stop this nonsense!

Mummy!

Perhaps it's a practical solution.

What about Stevie?

Look, Winnie. I've got troubles of my own!

Everybody's very cross today!

Very cross today. Why?

It's nothing, Stevie. Come and give me a hand.

(Door closes)

Go. Go. Go. Go.

Go!

(He mutters)

thr*aten me!

thr*aten me! I'll...

Too much.

I will be too much for them.

Ladies and gentlemen, I am delighted to welcome Mr Michaelis to our salon.

Please.

(Clapping)

Mr Vladimir.

So, Special Crimes releases its anarchists and murderers?

He is involved with the k*lling of a policeman and is then indulged by romantic liberals as the victim.

He was given a life sentence as an accessory.

Besides, the man can't help but be chastened after 15 years in prison.

Or embittered by his incarceration, intent on achieving new heights of radical depravity, a campaign unwittingly funded by the Lady Patroness.

Oh, I love the British justice system, renowned for its humanitarianism.

That's most kind.

Don't you realise the kind of people you have in your midst?

Some of them are your people too, aren't they?

Oh, absolutely. On the run from all kinds of outrages.

They won't commit any here.

The way your institutions stand on ceremony? I am sure they will.

If you'll excuse me.

He will make fools of you all.

Mr Michaelis, this is my husband, Assistant Commissioner Stone.

I can assure you I'm here socially not professionally.

And enjoying Lady Blackwood's hospitality.

I bear no enmity. I am a ticket of leave man.

My freedom co... conditional.

My appreciation of it boundless.

Mr Michaelis is going to my cottage in Kent to write a book, a memoir!

How extraordinary is that?

That's...

Quite. Quite.

There's no need to come with me.

Don't be silly.

Where are we going?

When are you going to tell him?

On the way.

Come on, Stevie.

I want to sit up by the horse!

Wait for me.

Look after yourself.

Look after them.

Whoa.

Good...good boy.

Good boy. Don't make him go too fast.

No. No.

Mummy doesn't go in there!

Stevie.

Look.

Stevie.

Mummy doesn't go away from me!

Mummy doesn't go in there!

You'll come and see me every Sunday, won't you, Stevie?

Get the omnibus over here. Like a big boy.

I'll get lost!

No.

No. No. That's Mummy's.

You didn't need to do this at all, Mother.

He'll be fine with you. As long as there's you.

Don't touch them. They're Mummy's things.

And Anton.

Did...did I make you do this?

Did I make you?

I'm sorry, Mummy.

Stevie, you're a good boy.

Daddy didn't think I was a good boy.

Well, Daddy's not here any more. You have Mr Verloc as your guardian now.

I made a good match, Mother.

How do you really know?

(He whimpers)

These things don't bear too much looking into as long as he's good to us.

Come on, Stevie. Say goodbye now, we've got to go.

See her soon, eh?

HE CRIES Yes. Yes.

She won't see me. She doesn't like me!

Stevie!

She doesn't.

Stevie!

Wurmt! Wurmt!

Wurmt! I need to see the First Secretary!

I can't do what he wants.

Wurmt!

Stevie!

You shouldn't have just run off like that. Anything could have happened to you.

What will happen to me?

Nothing. Everything'll stay the same.

Really the same?

Yes, Stevie, because you've got me.

Yes.

Yes. And no-one's ever taking that away.

No. No.

Come on.

(Shop bell tinkles)

What did you mean?

Eh?

You said you had troubles of your own.

I don't know how much longer I can keep this up.

Tell me.

Anton?

The shop.

You were right.

The figures just don't add up.

Nothing's adding up.

As for us, I'm sure we'll be all right.

You always find a way to make things work.

What's wrong with him? He looks like a sick dog.

He misses having something to do. He misses Mother.

He needs routine.

He needs things to settle down.

I thought maybe he could help you out in the shop.

You could show him the ropes. He'd really enjoy it.

Don't.

Don't what?

Make plans for me.

Everyone's always making plans for me!

Sir. Sir.

I was told to take you with me.

Who by?

Verloc.

Boy.

I've cut the bottom out of this one-gallon Copal varnish can.

The can encloses this...

That... is encased in wet clay... and it contains 16oz of X2 powder.

The detonator will be connected with the screw top of the can.

It will work on a combination of time and shock.

Why are you willing to help me now?

You weren't before...

Come.

Look at this.

What's wrong with you?

It's becoming real.

You're not having second thoughts, are you, Verloc?

I can't.

I'm set on this course... regardless.

Regardless of what?

This is a w*r.

You can't get away with making just some kind of gesture.

People will die. You do understand that, don't you?

I just need a b*mb.

Leave it with me.

You seem in a better mood.

I suppose a few pints of beer can do that to a man.

I've been thinking. This boy needs to get out more.

You know how I am for my little "journeys".

I need a walking companion.

To the park for a start.

Did you hear that, Stevie?

Park!

Oh, thank you, Anton. He needs something to look forward to.

Don't you?

Yes. Yes.

Perhaps my reward will be in heaven.

You believe in heaven?

I didn't think that was the stuff of revolutionaries.

I have my weaknesses, Winnie.

If you can't wait for your reward until then, we could go upstairs shortly.

Be good to forget myself for a while.

Out we go. All right, come on, then.

Have fun.

Could be father and son!

It's such a lovely sight, Anton!

Bye.

What intelligence is to be had watching me take a defective relative for a walk?

Father and son, commendable.

But it doesn't change the fact you're in the embassy's pay... and still in my debt.

And what if I'm out of it? All of it.

Free to live a simple life between the shop and the park.

Is that your fervent wish?

Yes.

Any idea where the Professor is?

Inspector Heat, I tell you this now...

I am no longer of use.

(Dog barks in distance)

(He whistles)

Hello.

We shamed him, Stevie.

He had to get out of our way and leave us alone.

How could he do anything else?

Thank you.

(Shop bell tinkles)

Prominently displayed, Winnie. Prominently displayed.

Are you not ever...affronted by what you pass across this counter?

I find the main thing is not to blush.

Does it not offend your morals, though?

"Needs must" is my morals.

Anyway, I thought yours was "freedom of the individual".

Well, I think the act of love should be an act of love.

An affirmation. Now, if you could ever find such love... the joy would be...would be real.

I think I'm blushing now.

Something new has come your way?

Heading in the direction of your heart, maybe.

If so I'll have to see it off, won't I?

Why?

Because Anton is good to me.

(Man growls)

STEVIE CHUCKLES Beard.

Wolfman.

He's the wolfman.

I've lost my hat.

Hup! Hup!

Hup! Come on.

Hey, hey, hey.

Hup! Hup! Andiamo!

It's a beautiful creature trapped behind bars, Stevie.

At the whim of his master.

Locked in, lonely, so unhappy.

Animal from the jungle.

That's what it should be. Free.

I'm free.

None of us are, Stevie.

You know, I have known men who have had their tongues... ripped out because of what they've spoken about.

They've had flesh torn from them because they won't tell their secrets, tell tales on their friends.

No. No, we are - we're animals too, Stevie, trapped in a cage, and on the inside, we cry like these animals.

Listen to it. Listen.

LION GROANS Do you hear that?

That noise is pain, Stevie.

Ah, pain.

Pain...

Pain...

(Groaning)

Is this the place?

Is this the wicked place where they lock them up, Mr Verloc?

Yes, Stevie.

So... we have to make a hole in the building and let them out.

Let them come through the hole and be free.

Free.

I can confirm there is absolutely no need for additional officers.

Yes.

You look rather grave, Heat. What is it?

It's the Professor, sir...

The hanger-on?

The one who's promoted himself from lab technician?

The trouble is, he's a bit more of a thr*at than we first thought.

In what way?

He has a b*mb.

He wears it inside his jacket.

I think he might use it.

52, Winnie.

Thank you, Stevie. You have been busy at the park.

Greenwich Park!

Greenwich Park?

Mmm.

That's a long way from here.

Gave the boy a bit of an adventure.

So composed now. The change in this boy...

Imagine the good a few days in the country would do for him.

The country?

Freedom to roam, talk man to man -

I could put him right on a few things.

He'd take it in down there.

Why ever would you want to take him to the country?

I was thinking we could visit Michaelis in Kent.

A sort of outing?

Exactly!

And then you two become much closer.

He's never had it, Anton.

Not from his father, not from any man.

Well, then.

This is some change.

For the better.

Oi!

Let's make a plan.

Do you know what a secret is, Stevie?

The necessity of silence.

Silence.

It means saying nothing when you're asked what we talk about.

Police?

Especially not the police.

Not even Winnie must know.

Not even Winnie.

Ready?

Ready.

You're going to have such a good time, Stevie.

Busy.

Carefree.

You can do what you like.

Mr Verloc's in charge of me.

Yeah, of course he is, but he wants you to enjoy yourself.

I won't let him down.

There you go.

Come on, then.

Could be father and son.

(Shop bell tinkles)

Busy, Mr Verloc. Lots of people.

Train to Michaelis' cottage.

Oh!

Hello. Are you coming too?

I'll be there in spirit.

How far is Michaelis's cottage from Greenwich?

Ten miles. We'll lay low there for a few days and go through things with the boy.

What does he know?

That it's a holiday.

Where's the train?

(Whistle blows)

Soon...

All aboard!

Not now, Stevie. Soon.

Hide your deed behind a harmless boy - very clever.

Playing the doting father.

No-one will even notice me.

You're not the bravest, are you?

When you screw the top on tight, it makes a connection.

Set at 20 minutes, but a short sharp shock... be careful.

Can we go now?

Yeah.

Time to act, Verloc.

Come on, Stevie.

Winnie: Mr Verloc has quite taken Stevie up.

Stevie!

They're in Kent together.

I've a w*apon deadlier than any g*n...

The Professor's on an omnibus.

Get a message sent - he's not to be approached.

This is very kind of you.

Betrayal...hidden in a satchel.

He's a suspect, sir. And Verloc was there with him.

You're an agent, aren't you? You're a spy.

I can't just go.

Who's stopping you?

Despite what you said, my marriage is real, Mother.

And despite what you thought, we are a true family.

Heat: You got your wish. It's more than mere bricks falling down.