01x02 - The Greater Good

[bunniefuu]

I understand your concern

but I think you'll find
her blood pressure will stabilise

over the next 24 hours...

..given the correct course
of antibiotics.

We will of course continue
to monitor her condition.

Do shut up.

(Giggles)

Are you sure?
Yeah.

Are you sure?
Yeah, why not?

What are you doing?
I slipped.

Help me up.
Come on.

There's something on the floor.

(Screams)

♪ Theme music

A doctor and a nurse found him.
Right.

What were they doing down here?

No.

Really, here?
Mm-hm.

We've taken statements.

Well, wound to the back of
the head.

Looks like he fell here obviously.
Might explain the blood, eh?

Or it was slippery.
Yes, maybe.

Excuse me, who are you?

Hugh Stevens, sir.
I'm the new assistant.

Where's Ron?
Ron doesn't work here anymore.

Why not?
I do now.

I'll leave you to it.

Right, well, I'm Dr Lucien Blake.

Let's get him up on the table,
shall we?

Well, how do we do that?

You'll be taking his legs.

Right. We ready, Hugh?
I guess so.

Good. Now I'm going to ask you
to hand me the bone saw.

You're going to cut him open?

No, I thought I might tear him
apart with my teeth.

You know what a bone saw
looks like, yes?

I can't find it.
It's a saw.

It's not here.

Any other saws there?
No.

You sure you're looking
in the right place, Hugh?

This is where the tools go.
T-They're not here.

Nothing at all?
Nothing.

No saws? No clamps?
No.

You're new to all this,
aren't you? Hugh?

What's wrong?

I just never thought I'd have to
watch Uncle Bert being cut open.

That's all.

Apparently, Bert sacked
Ron Jackson a couple of days ago.

We know.

Hugh wasn't sure
but I can't imagine

Ron would have been too happy
about that.

He wasn't.

Parks has been asking questions.

People heard him thr*aten
to come back and k*ll Bert.

Well. I'm guessing he also took
the autopsy instruments too.

Well, most of them.
Most?

It's a long story.
Do you think it's worth...

Dragging Ron Jackson
into the station?

Yes.
Hobart's been to his place.

There's no-one there.
You've been busy.

Oh, you don't know
the half of it.

Really? Do tell.

The brass are coming in from
all over the place for Anzac Day.

The Army's on my back.

Two soldiers have buggered
off from the base

down in South Australia.

Official bloody Secrecy Act.

Happy times. I'll perform
that autopsy tomorrow

with my own instruments.
Right.

Oh, Doc.

You know Mattie, she went
on a date with Ron Jackson.

Danny, you're not to tease her
about this.

No, no, no, no, of course not.
No, this is a serious matter.

No, well, it is. He might
have m*rder*d someone.

Oh, Mr Bradley. Would you mind?

(Clears throat)

Yes, look, I know you have
my best interests at heart, Cec,

but I am perfectly comfortable
right here.

Oh, I understand, sir.

But I do believe that you'll find
the new armchair in the club bar

just as accommodating.

Why don't you throw caution to the
wind and try calling me Lucien?

After all, we've only known each
other since I was five.

Of course, sir.

Now, about that armchair.

I accept defeat.
Where is this bloody chair?

This way, sir.

How's that knee of yours,
by the way?

Oh, much improved, sir.
And thank you for this.

I needed to clear
the reading room for Anzac Day.

There's some army people in town.

Of course.
Anything else I have to give up?

A few personal liberties, perhaps?
Controversial, sir.

Not at all.
We should give up our armchairs

whenever the powers that be
ask us to.

Are you totally sure about Ron?

It doesn't look good for him.
Why, what's he like?

He insisted on telling me
about boxing.

Boxing?
It was all he talked about.

But he seemed like a gentleman,
unlike you.

So does your bloke in Melbourne

know that you're out
dancing with a m*rder suspect?

Which proves my point.

Oh, sorry, a patient left
a message for you yesterday.

A Sally Clements.
I left a number on your desk.

Told her you'd call her back.
Right, very good.

Oh, Jean,
just while I think of it,

don't s'pose you've seen a saw,
have you? About...

Oh, about...
Do you mean this one?

Yes, you used it to carve
the roast a couple of days ago.

Oh, I knew I'd used it
for something. Thank you.

(Doorbell rings)

Is she still going for that job
at the Royal Cross Hotel?

Well, I'm sure
that's a matter for her.

Oops.

Will you be here for lunch today?
Um, not sure.

Performing an autopsy
this morning - Bert Prentice.

Oh.
You knew him?

Oh, yes, know the family. Lots of
stories about the Prentices.

What kind of stories?

The kind of stories about people
who work in morgues.

Oh.
I thought he was a nice man. Shy.

Um, I have an interview
this afternoon

for that new position
at the Royal Cross.

Unless you need something?
I don't think so, no.

That should be fine.

Yes, a blow to the back
of the head. Quite a deep cut.

Some surface veins severed.
Extensive blood loss.

The indentation matches the edge
of an iron stool there.

Skin and blood under the nails,
as yet unidentified.

Supports the hypothesis
that someone else was present.

The cause of death?

A single well-directed blow to the
windpipe, crushing it instantly.

A blow delivered, I'd say,
with a closed fist.

And I'd suggest left-handed,
judging by the angle of impact.

One punch?

Well, this is not your usual
barney after a break and enter.

I mean, this was a very,
very particular blow.

Ron Jackson.

Mattie said he's a keen boxer.

Keen? Bloody regional champion.

No-one's laid a glove on him.

Any sign of him?
Not yet.

Parks is searching
old Bert Prentice's place

for any other evidence
linked to Jackson.

Well, I might warn your men.

If this is the work
of Ron Jackson, he's dangerous.

'Laughs and Lovelies.'

(Door closes)

(Footsteps)

(Rummaging)

Police! Ah!

Hey! Stay where you are!

Hey!

Stop, you bloody idiot!

McRae? Gordon McRae?

Yes?
Sally Clements left
another message for you.

And?

She's wondering whether
you prescribe medicine
over the phone.

'Course I don't.
Yes, well, I told her that.

Now you get her
to make an appointment.

I told her that too.
Or I can make a house call.

It's not rocket science.

Anything else?
I don't think so.

Right, well I'll call her back.

(Ringing)

Oh, honestly.

Tell her I examine patients first,
then I prescribe,

not the other way around.
It's ridic...

What now?
Superintendent Lawson for you.

Yes?

Gordon McRae.
I didn't do anything.

Break and enter. as*ault.

Resist arrest.
That copper came at me!

I was minding my own business.

At Bert Prentice's house?

Argh! Bloody hell!

Ah, tender, eh?
But otherwise alright.

He's given you quite a tap.
Oh, come on.

Don't you start.
I didn't say anything.

I just wouldn't have let
the bloke get a swing at me,
that's all.

Yeah. Yeah, yeah.
Who is this bloke?

Small time crim.
You know, a bit of black market,

the usual stolen stuff.

McRae's had it in for Bert
for years.

as*ault with intent.
as*ault with w*apon.

Property damage.
Property damage again.

All this against Bert Prentice.
You must really hate the bloke.

Don't have to answer that.

Well, you'd better start thinking
of some answers, Gordon.

What were you doing
at Bert's house?

Having a beer.

With your old mate Bert,
is that right?

If we went to the hospital, do
you think we could find someone

who saw you there last night?

What were you doing
at the hospital?

I never said I was there.
You didn't have to.

Any sign of Ron Jackson yet?

No. I guess that makes things
a little less cut and dried.

Maybe.

McRae can stew in
the interview room for a while.

We're still looking
for Ron Jackson.

Hmm. You thought about contacting
some of the regional hospitals?

You think he's been going around
murdering mortuary assistants?

No. Just selling autopsy
instruments. That's where I'd go.

Bendigo, Geelong, Shepparton.
Call them.

Right.
And you can go home.

I've got enough on my plate.
Boss.

Oh, never stops. Go home.

Major Alderton, Matthew Lawson.

Sergeant Robert Hannam.
Very nice to meet you.

Now, Canberra's briefed you?

Oh, we've received descriptions
of the two deserters.

Just one now but
the same conditions apply.

The station's resources
are at your disposal.

Thank you very much.
Not quite.

Not me.

Well, you just said we're all at
his disposal. I'm certainly not.

For Christ's sake, Blake...

You employ this man,
Superintendent?

Uh...

Well, then my opinion
of your station

has just taken
a dramatic improvement.

I don't see you for years

and suddenly you appear
out of nowhere.

It's my town, Derek.
What's your excuse?

Oh, official business
and all that.

But if you're free later,
there WILL be whisky.

Love it.
Excellent.

Give your telephone number and
address to the Sergeant here.

Come on through to the office.

I'll see you later, Lucien.
Certainly.

(Quick knock on door)

Doctor.

Sally Clements.
She called earlier.

Yes, of course.

Mrs Clements, come on through.
Nice to meet you.

And these lesions?
Sores.

Yes, sores. You've had them
around your mouth?

And inside. And in my throat.

And now they're gone?
Yeah.

And the, uh,
the bleeding from the gums?

Well, it came on
at the same time.

And that's cleared up too.
For now.

I see. Well, may I, um...
I'll help you down.

May I, um, suggest
we run some blood tests?

No. I just...

I just need something for it
and I'll go home.

I can't prescribe medicine
if I don't know what you've got.

Please, Doctor.
I'm not even sure you're sick.

I am.

Look, these symptoms
you speak of,

It could be any number of
complaints and right now,

you don't have any of them.
They're real.

Lesions leave marks.
And as for hair loss...

Please, Mrs Clements.

Tell me what's really going on
because you're not sick,

not in the way you've described.

Mrs Clements?

Parks.
Yeah?

Just had a call
from Bendigo Hospital.

There's a bloke over there
trying to sell autopsy tools.

Oh, what, Jackson?
Well, he fits the description.

Apparently, he's on his way here.

Boss wants us to intercept him
out of town.

We don't know how dangerous
this bloke is

but I don't want civilians
involved if it goes arse up.

What, so are we armed, then, sir?
Too bloody right.

The uniforms are with the army
so you two are on your own.

But you know the drill -
eyes open.

You cover each other.

Don't let this guy
get the drop on you, right?

Right.

Are you up for it?
Yeah, 'course I am.

What did you say to her?
She looked as if she was ready
to cry.

Well, I'm really not sure.
Do you know her?

I know of her. She fell in
with a lad from out of town.

Got pregnant. Lost the baby.

Family?
They never married so...

Ah. So the family
has nothing to do with her.

Hmm.

Did she leave an address?
Hmm.

Oh, very good. I might take that,
call in on her later.

Staying for lunch?
Um, well...

About that, I, um...

I don't think I will be.

But listen, good luck with that
interview this afternoon.

Sergeant Hannam.
Doctor.

The Major's done quite well
for himself.

Yes, sir.

You know, my dad's old car
is just that, old and slow.

I'm guessing this isn't?
That's right, sir.

How about you show me
what you can do, eh?

Come on.
Bloody come on.

(Grunts)

Ah!

You alright?
Yeah, yeah, yeah.

So you call yourself a boxer?

Come on! Give me your best sh*t!

(Punch, grunt)

You know, I had hoped
we'd be able to persuade you

back into the fold.

We need skilled intelligence
more than ever.

Tell me, are we looking
to America now?

Or is it still the old country?

Oh, you know the story.
There's only ten million of us.

We need big friends.

Still, setting off nuclear bombs
in the desert for Mother England.

How does that keep
the red hordes at bay?

Ah! You're involved and
you can't talk about it.

Well, I'm simply an army
serviceman, working in...

You're working in administration,
yes, I remember.

Come on, admit it.
You miss the work.

Suits that labyrinthine
brain of yours.

You know you only have
to say the word.

Did they ever find them?
No.

Bad business.

Well, they weren't the only ones
to go missing when Singapore fell.

I made enquiries.

Every now and then someone thinks
they've seen them.

Believe it or not, Derek,
my little girl would be 23 now.

And you never remarried?
No.

You always were too tragically
heroic for this world.

Me, I prefer to leave the past
where it belongs.

Hmm!
Thank you.

And you believe this?
Not really, no.

We lost some people,
didn't we, Lucien? Friends.

A lot of friends.

Here's to all of them.

To all of them.

Nothing like being legless
by two o'clock.

Cec.

Sir, there's another phone call
from Inspector Lawson.

Something about a Ron Jackson.
Thank you.

We've recovered
the autopsy tools.

He'd tried to sell them
in Bendigo.

Apparently he resisted.

Are the cuffs really necessary?

Well, you were the one
who warned us he was dangerous.

Have you been drinking?

I'll need the usual incident
report on Jackson.

Ah, yes, the report.

The one that mentions how

he savagely att*cked your men
with his face?

The bloke made threats
against Bert Prentice

and stole tools from the morgue
the night he was m*rder*d.

Your men b*at him up, Lawson.
I've got enough to deal with.

Report on my desk.

And no drinking while on call.

I don't know about this.

And I don't know
about Ron Jackson.

Didn't stop you b*ating him up,
though, did it?

It's hard to explain.
Hmm.

Have the photos I asked for?

Thank you.

Come lie down for me, Danny.
Like this.

Good. Just that way a little.

Excellent.

So why are you doing this?

Because I'm obsessive about the
cleanliness of hospital floors.

Ron Jackson didn't att*ck you,
did he?

No bruising on his hands,
no grazed skin on his knuckles.

What happened?
He smacked he across the face.

Oh, really? How hard?
With a closed fist?

You try bringing in a guy who's
just punched in someone's throat.

Alright?
Danny.

Well, that's interesting.

What is?
Blood flow.

You see here?
The back of his head.

The blood pools out, follows the
fall of the floor to the waste.

So?

So, why is there blood...

..over here on the grouting?

How did it get here?
And it's faded.

Well, maybe it's old.

Hmm.

Danny.

Well, it's Bert's blood type.

Mm-hm, so what does that mean?

It means that someone
cleaned the floor,

well, at least one section of it,
before the police got here.

What was Bert doing down here
anyway?

Well, he would have been working
on a body.

Which one?

Danny?

Inspector Lawson
in a good mood today?

What are you talking about?

Look, the ambos brought in a body
yesterday in pretty bad condition.

In fact,
their incident report says,

'Body a total mess, vomit and
faeces, multiple lesions.

Cause of death unknown.' Well?

Hello!

Where's the body?
Well, how the hell should I know?

Well, I checked with Hugh.
He doesn't know either.

Blake...
Look, someone k*lled Bert

and then cleaned
a small area of floor

between the body
and the front of the locker.

Now, why would you do that?

Well, to cover up the evidence
of a m*rder.

Well, wouldn't you clean
the entire floor?

And wouldn't you at least
try to hide the body?

Look, maybe they're not trying
to hide Bert's m*rder.

Maybe they're trying to hide
something else.

Like stealing a body.

Oh, and I have Ron Jackson's
incident report.

Look, I've got Ron Jackson and
Gordon McRae in custody.

I've got the Army breathing down
my neck about this deserter...

Weren't there two?

And I have a police surgeon
who's been drinking

since two o'clock
in the afternoon.

Ron Jackson is out of bounds.
Go home and sober up.

Parks.

What'd you tell the doc?
Nothing.

Mate...
Constable.

Ron Jackson was apprehended
on the Midland Highway

at approximately 12.50pm,
correct?

Yeah.

While being escorted
to the police cells,

the prisoner attempted escape.
Well, he panicked, sir.

The prisoner attempted escape.
He struck you a number of times.

Sergeant Hobart
managed to subdue him.

The bloke hit you.

He managed to place the prisoner
in the cell

and the police surgeon
was notified.

The police surgeon was pissed.

Well, I think we'll leave
that bit out. Is this correct?

Yes, sir.
There's your report. Write it up.

You, go to the hospital.

No-one gets to see Ron Jackson

unless they're a nurse
or a copper.

Sir.

Danny and his mates?
They b*at him up?

Yes. It's called resisting arrest.

Would you hold that for me please,
Mattie?

But Ron just isn't the sort of
person who would hurt anybody.

Is he the sort of person who'd
steal a body from the morgue?

I didn't think so. Would you plug
that in for me over there, Mattie?

And then just pop it on the stool.

What is that?

One of the benefits of living
and working in a mining town.

It's called luminol.

Picks up traces of iron.

Invented last century.
Used to locate iron ore.

The Nazis worked out
they could also use it

to detect the presence of blood...

..even when it had been
cleaned away.

Whoever k*lled Bert,
seems they stole a body

and I want to know why.
Lights, please.

Well, looks like someone's
made a trip to the fridge.

We need to get a match
for this shoe size.

Whoa, whoa, whoa,
I can't let you in.

Why not?
Well, it's off limits.

Nursing staff only.

That's fine by me. You can
do this and I'll stand guard.

I don't think so.

You don't work here.
Don't do this to me, alright?

The boss said Ron's off limits
so just leave it.

Well, did the boss also tell you

to b*at the living daylights
out of him?

So who else
are you going to b*at up?

Are you going to throw a punch
at me?

It's complicated.
No, it's simple.
I'm going in to see him.

Mattie.

Bloody hell. Be quick.

Mattie?

Mattie O'Brien?
Ron.

How did you get in here?
They haven't let me see anyone.

What'd they do to your face?
They think I k*lled someone.

I didn't do it.

I need to ask you something.

You don't believe me.

I need some answers. Is that OK?

Yeah.

You stole the instruments from
the morgue. Is that right?

I'd just been sacked.
I had no money.

Did you see anything there?
Anything suspicious?

No.

Was anyone else there?
No.

Bert was on his break.
Mattie, I really didn't do it.

I really...
One more thing.

What size shoe are you?
What?

What size shoe?

I don't know, like, ten, I think.

Excuse me.

What are you doing?

Mattie?

He's the same boot size.

(Sighs) You do realise that life
was a lot simpler

when your father was here?

So people keep telling me.

I really thought
this wouldn't fit Ron Jackson.

Maybe he's not the only one
who wears boots this size.

You still thinking Gordon McRae?

People saw him
skulking around the hospital.

We searched his place.

Apparently he's been knocking off
hospital blankets.

But I gather you don't think
it's Gordon McRae's style?

No, there's something
very planned about all of it.

Yes.

Mattie doesn't think
Ron Jackson has it in him either.

Is that because you don't want
to be proved wrong?

Probably.

Shaping up to be an interesting
Anzac Day, isn't it?

Listen, are you still looking for
that deserter?

Well, the Army's handling it.

We're just here to add
local colour.

Yes.

Do you think there's anything
in the fact

that originally they were looking
for two deserters

and now it's just the one?

Bloody hell, Blake,
don't go there.

Your man's got clearance
all the way up to Canberra.

So what are you going to do?

I'm going to leave Ron Jackson
in the hospital

and Gordon McRae in a cell.

I'm going to go home,
get a good night's sleep

and not think about it
till after the parade.

I suggest you do the same.

'Body a total mess, multiple
lesions, cause of death unknown.'

Well? Where's the body?

Lesions leave marks.

And right now,
you don't have any of them.

Yes?

Mrs Clements, I know what's wrong.

The skin lesions, hair loss,
nausea, gastric upset.

All classic symptoms
of radiation sickness.

But it's not you who's sick.
It's your husband.

Please, your husband
is desperately ill.

The man he's deserted with
has d*ed already

and so will your husband if
we don't get him to a hospital...

No.
Mrs Clements...

I'm an ex-serviceman.

I give you my word, my word.

I'll look after him.

I've been so scared.

I thought the Army might come
looking in the house.

I don't think they had any idea
you were married.

We're not.
Well, that's what saved you.

Hey, Jimmy. Doctor's here now.

Hello, Jimmy.

Jimmy, I'm Dr Lucien Blake...

..and I'm here to do everything
I can to help you get better.

Alright?
Yeah.

Good man.

(Music plays in background)

Yes?

Um, I couldn't help
but hear the wireless.

Oh.

(Turns down volume)

May I...?
Of course, yeah.

Thank you.

Um... how did the interview go?
Fine.

Fine?

Yes, it's a lovely building

and I'm sure there'll be
plenty of work.

And they'll treat you well?
Apparently.

Good.

Good. Um...

May I...?
Oh, yes.

Thank you.

Uh, look, I've...
I've had some time to think,

uh, about whether or not I...
I need a housekeeper...

..and the truth is, probably not.

I mean, it's lovely, really
lovely, having you look after me.

That's probably just, you know,
very lazy on my part.

Right.

How do I...

What I do need is help.

A blind eye every now and then,

a damned good talking to
at other times.

You know, I'm sure there may well
be days when it's all a bit...

Confusing?
Yes.

Yes.

It won't be like it was
with my father with me.

With me, it will always be...
somewhat messier.

So you're trying to say that...
Yes, I...

Yes.
Yes.

You said you needed some help?
Yes.

What can you tell me
about the Royal Cross Hotel?

Rather grand, isn't it?
Yes, it is.

Keys are at the porter's desk.

Right. Well, good luck.
You too.

Better make yourself scarce, eh?

Derek!
There you are.

Lucien. What the devil?
We were interrupted earlier.

You mad bastard.
Come and sit down.

Hannam's welcome to join us,
of course.

He's already in there, although
he's not one for drinking.

Nonsense. I insist.

You always were a pushy beggar.
Come on.

Derek, I've been thinking
about your offer.

Coming back into the fold.
I might call it a night, sir.

Of course.
Sergeant, stay, please. I insist.

Anyone serving with the Major is
most certainly a friend of mine.

A toast, eh?

To soldiers.

All soldiers, past and present.

Hear, hear.

About those bombs of yours
in the desert, Derek.

They're not MY bombs, Lucien.

That's right,
they're England's bombs.

'Of course, sir.'

'You want to set off nuclear
warheads in our country?

We're honoured.'

'Anything we can do to help, eh?'

Strange coincidence, though.

I had a woman come into
my surgery today,

claiming all manner of symptoms.

Hair loss, skin lesions, nausea.

Of course, the only thing I could
think of was radiation poisoning.

Completely absurd, I know.

And of course she was making
the whole thing up.

Wouldn't even let me take bloods.

Who was she?
Oh, just some patient of mine.

I suspect she's read
about the tests

and now she thinks she's poisoned.

Some people, eh?
Was there a name?

Yes, now, um...

Gosh, I'm blowed
if I can remember. Why?

Well, part of our role
is public education.

If some people need reassurance,
we're only too happy to help.

Are you? Well,
I'm sure I have her details,

address, back at the surgery.
Good.

Now unfortunately we have got a
very early start in the morning.

Dawn service and all of that.

So if you don't mind,
I'll get the Sergeant

to give you a lift home.
Certainly. Thank you.

And while you're there, why don't
you give him that address?

We'll see her first thing
after the parade.

Put her mind at rest.

What a splendid idea.
I'm sure she'd appreciate it.

Whenever you're ready, sir.

Derek.
Lucien.

You sleep well.

Thank you, Sergeant.

Interesting.
What's that, sir?

Left-handed.

That's right. Why?

No particular reason.

Just surprised they didn't b*at
that out of you in school.

They tried, sir.

Sergeant.

Right. Now, that address.

It'll just take me a moment
to remember where I left it.

Shall I help you look for it,
sir?

Ah, that would be grand.
Yes, thank you.

Probably won't find it there,
Sergeant.

Of course.

Any luck?
Not yet, no. I'll keep looking.

You might want to take
your gloves off, Sergeant.

I gather, from all accounts...

..radiation sickness
is a terrible way to die.

But of course, you'd know that,
wouldn't you,

from the condition of the body
you stole from the morgue.

I beg your pardon, sir?

It's interesting, isn't it?

One blow to the throat
was all it took

to k*ll that morgue attendant.

Ah, is that it?

No. Bugger, I'll keep looking.

The Major would like
that address. Sir.

And we mustn't disappoint him,
is that what you're saying?

The man you k*lled had his throat
crushed by a single blow.

A blow delivered
by a left-handed punch.

The blood and tissue under
his fingernails was his own.

He clawed his own throat
trying to breathe.

And, yes, you were very careful,
Sergeant.

You even managed
to mop the floor...

That address, SIR.

Oh, for God's sake, Sergeant.

Did it ever occur to you
that one day, one day,

it might be your body
rotting from radiation

that has to be stolen
from a morgue?

You don't have that address,
do you, sir?

No, I don't.
Let him go.

You'll have to k*ll both of us
to get away, Sergeant.

Are you prepared for that?

My Christopher was a Sergeant
too. This is his p*stol.

But he d*ed in the Solomons.

I wonder what he'd make of you.

(Coughs)

Thank you, Jean.

Sergeant Robert Hannam,
3rd Regiment, 4th Division.

You understand, Sergeant,
which these boots which we found

in your hotel still have traces

of Albert Prentice's blood
on them?

Army number 2-6-0-5-2.

They also match the boot print
found in the morgue

next to the locker

from which you stole the body
of persons unknown.

Do you have anything to say
about that?

Sergeant Robert Hannam,
3rd Regiment, 4th Division.

We also retrieved from
your possessions this page,

which you tore
from the mortuary log

to hide the fact that the body
was there in the first place.

Not all of this is
your responsibility, Sergeant.

You were following orders.

Now, tell us who told you
to do this...

..and tell us what you did
with the body of the serviceman

you took from the morgue.

Sergeant Robert Hannam,
3rd Regiment, 4th Division.

Army number 2-6-0-5-2.

(Soft knock on door)

Sorry, sir, but there's a Major
Alderton here to see you.

Are you quite sure?

I understand the forensic
evidence for m*rder
is conclusive.

However, the body that was taken
from the morgue is still missing.

Has Sergeant Hannam
made any admissions?

No. Is there anything else
you'd like to add to the record?

Well, I'd like to express
my complete disapproval

of the Sergeant's actions.

Of course you understand,
Superintendent,

this will now become a matter
for a m*llitary tribunal.

I'll inform my superiors.

I'll take it from here.

Interesting times, Lucien.

Depressingly familiar.

Soldiers being used
and then simply thrown away.

Where have we seen
and heard that before?

You know as well as I do that
there are bigger issues at stake.

For who? Servicemen dying
of radiation poisoning?

Sergeant Hannam being thrown
to the wolves?

It doesn't get any bigger
for them.

Small town life
has made you soft, Lucien.

Well, I'm starting to think maybe
that's not a bad thing.

You and I survived three and a
half years in a POW camp together

and what have we learned?

Come in.

G'day.

Uh, thought that, uh,
you could do with some of this.

Thanks.
No worries.

Actually, I came to say
that I'm sorry.

Sorry, mate.

Good morning.
And you.

You look a little tired.

And you look very smart.
Oh!

Um...

I hope last night I, um,
I wasn't asking too much of you?

No. I like to be useful.

Well, you were more than useful,
that's for certain.

Did, uh...

Did you, uh, hear anything from
the Royal Cross people about...

I don't think they'll be
offering me that job now.

Ah. After last night?

I am sorry. I, um...

Actually...

Actually, I'm rather glad.

It's good to see
Christopher's medals.

You could wear yours too, Lucien.

March well today.

(Fanfare)

G'day, Gary.

G'day, Bill! How are ya?

Cec.

Gentlemen.

What's this for?
I, um...

Thank you.

I thought you and your mates
might enjoy a drink.

Thank you, Lucien.

My pleasure, Cec.

Stop the car! No!

Travelling salesman.

He d*ed at the scene
on the Creswick Road.

We run
a boarding house.

One of the guests
d*ed in a car crash.

Just one more thing
if I may,

Ray Beck was
a very handsome man.

Did your husband
have any reason

to be jealous?

I've had it up to here.
You've had it?

Yes, I bloody have!
I hate you so much.

She has an affair
with the handsome salesman

in the upstairs room.

I need you to come
down the station

and make a statement.

My men are going to
search Mr Beck's car.

Mattie!
Get some help here!

Oxygen now!