The desert at night. Two military Jeeps drive along in the darkness as a storm rages above.

CAPTION: Jornado Del Muerto, New Mexico, July 16th 1945

Test base. Scientist Max Hoffman is talking with another man.

Hoffman: That's the kind of thing we need. 

As the Jeeps approach he gestures towards them.

Hoffman: Ah, here's my guest. 

Man: Oh, of course.

One of the Jeeps comes to a halt. Englishman Professor Michael Fraser gets down from the passenger seat.

Fraser: Thank you, sergeant. 

Soldier: Help you, ma'am?

Frasers wife Helen gets down from the back. Hoffman walks over to meet them.

Hoffman: Professor Fraser. Max Hoffman. We met briefly. 

They shake hands.

Fraser: At Oak Ridge, Tennessee, yes. Yes, I remember. 

Hoffman: I know your work, of course, Professor, and I'm delighted to see you. 

Fraser turns to introduce his wife.

Fraser: Er, my wife Helen. She works as my assistant. 

Hoffman: Ah. Pleased to meet you, Mrs Fraser. 

They shake hands.

Helen: How do you do? 

Hoffman looks at his watch.

Hoffman: Ah, come, come. We should- we should get inside. The tests will be starting soon. 

He opens the door to the laboratory for them.

Fraser: Thank you.

Test site. A light blinks atop a high tower structure in the distance.

Laboratory. One of the scientists, Patrick, gazes out through an observation window at tower as voices murmur over radio equipment. He turns Helen arrives.

Patrick: Oh, Helen. 

Helen: Patrick. 

Patrick: Welcome. Just here. 

He shows Helen where to go while Hoffman and Fraser linger behind.

Hoffman: Thank God the storm has passed over. 

Fraser: I wonder if God had anything to do with it. 

Hoffman: Are you religious, Professor Fraser? 

Fraser: Not any more. 

Hoffman: Ah.

Patrick: Professor. 

Fraser: Patrick. 

They shake hands.

Patrick: I have some goggles over here for you. Excuse us, fellas. 

Hoffman: I never thought I'd be here. That this day would arrive. 

Helen: How far are we from the tower? 

Hoffman: 5.68 miles. 10,000 yards. You don't need to be worried. 

Helen: I'm not. 

Hoffman looks out at the tower.

Man (offscreen): Keep it steady.

Fraser: Here. 

He gives her some goggles.

Man (offscreen): All right?

Hoffman looks out through the window again.

Man (offscreen): Steady the tripod. All right?

Hoffman: For me this is the end of a long journey. 

Man (offscreen): I'm gonna roll that back.

Hoffman: I wish my family could have seen this. 

Helen: They died in the w*r? 

Hoffman: Treblinka. 

Helen: Maybe after this there will be no more wars, Mr Hoffman. 

Man (offscreen): Perimeter clear?

Hoffman: Let's hope so.

Man (offscreen): Okay, guys, let's close these...

Hoffman: For all our sakes. 

Man (offscreen): ...until transport is clear, please.

Outside. The two Jeeps drive away.

Inside. Everyone is now wearing their goggles. Patrick turns away from the windows.

Patrick: Our father who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come... 

Hoffman: Have you thought what will happen after all this? If it doesn't work. 

Fraser: If it doesn't work... maybe we should be glad. 

Radio: Fifteen, fourteen...

Man (offscreen): Have they signalled yet?

Radio: Thirteen...

Man: There.

Radio: Twelve, eleven, ten, nine...

Test site. A red light begins to blink from the tower.

Radio: Eight, seven...

Inside. Hoffman and he Frasers watch from the windows

Radio: Six, five, four, three, two, one. 

A brilliant white light blazes in through the windows and the laboratory shakes. Outside, a mushroom cloud blossoms. The shockwave rolls towards the building, bl*wing all the windows in. Fraser holds onto his wife as the building shakes, and then they look out again as the mushroom cloud turns fiery.

Patrick: That's it! My God! That's it! That's it! 

Man (offscreen): Wow.

Man (offscreen): History!

The scientists remove their goggles.

Fraser: It worked. 

He exchanges stunned looks with Hoffman.

Man (offscreen): Whoa. Whoa.

A darkened building at night.

Caption: One Year Later

Caption: Soviet Embassy, London

A man with a torch, Aleksei Gorin, moves through a room full of file boxes. He r*fles through documents, searching.

Staircase. Four men hurry up the embassy stairs with g*n. They separate at a landing, one pair heading through a door while the others continue up.

File room. The man is still searching, but looks round as he hears a door. He covers his torch as light shines through the grating underneath his feet. He edges back away from the light. Then he hears a p*stol being cocked and turns. He picks up some files and hurries away just as a man with a g*n rounds a row of shelves.

Outside. Gorin walks swiftly out past two policemen on duty at the gate.

Gorin: Good night. 

Policeman: Good night, Mr Gorin. 

He walks away from the building, carrying a bag.

OPENING CREDITS

Docks. Passengers disembark from an ocean liner, Foyle among them. Arthur Valentine looks out from the window of a nearby building, then turns to speak to someone else.

Valentine: He's here. 

As Foyle walks along the quayside, an army sergeant, Frank Shaw, spots him.

Frank: Mr Foyle. 

Foyle: Yeah? 

Frank: I don't suppose you'd recognise me, sir. 

Foyle: Course I do. 

Frank: PC Shaw. 

Foyle: Yes, of course. How are you, Frank? 

Frank: Bearing up. I'm afraid that I deserted you back in 1940. 

Foyle: Well, you enlisted. Perfectly good reason, seems to me. You just back? 

Frank: Yes, sir. I got shipped in from Singapore via Suez. It's hard to believe I'm home. 

Foyle: They couldn't get you back any sooner? 

Frank: I was taken prisoner by the Japs in Java. I got malaria, would you believe. How about you, sir? 

Foyle: Well, visit abroad-

They're interrupted by a naval officer on the steps of the building behind them.

Officer: Ladies and gentlemen. Please make your way to Immigration. Thank you. 

They head for the steps.

Foyle: You heading back to Hastings? 

Frank: Er, no, sir. We were b*mb out. The family's in London now. It's been six years since I left them. The boy was ten when I left. He'll be a man now. I wonder what the wife 'll make of having me back. 

Foyle: She'll be very pleased. 

Frank: You think so? 

They enter the building.

Foyle: Yeah. 

Frank: You hear stories. It's all so different now. 

Foyle: Mmm. 

Valentine comes down a staircase with two other men.

Valentine: Mr Foyle? 

Foyle: Yes. 

Valentine: I wonder if I could ask you to come with me. 

Foyle: Forgive me, you are...? 

Valentine: Oh, I'm, er, Arthur Valentine. I'm with the security service. 

He discreetly shows Foyle his ID.

Foyle: Unfortunate. I'm sorry to hear it. 

Valentine: Not at all necessary, sir. If you wouldn't mind...?

Foyle: Can I ask why? 

Valentine: Orders from above. 

Foyle: Well, if you'll excuse me, I've been stuck on a boat for the past five days, so I'm off home now. 

Valentine: I'm asking nicely. 

Foyle turns back to Frank.

Foyle: Frank, good luck. The force will take you back, I'm sure of it. You were very good, as I remember. 

He follows Valentine up the stairs.

Valentine: How was your trip to America? 

Foyle: Well, if you know where I've been, you probably know how it went. 

Valentine: You left behind quite a ruckus. Our ambassador called into the State Department, the FBI in uproar. They'd rather like you back. 

Foyle: Ah. Nice to be wanted. 

Valentine: Did you know that Senator Howard Paige is d*ad? 

Foyle: I didn't. 

Valentine: He took his own life. 

Foyle: That's regrettable. 

Valentine: Oh, I wonder. You've been hounding him for six months. 

Foyle: Not the word I'd use. So you're here to arrest me, is that it? 

Valentine: If I had my way, Mr Foyle, I wouldn't be here at all. This way, please. 

He leads Foyle into an office where Hilda Pierce sits waiting for them. She stands up as they enter.

Pierce: Mr Foyle. 

Foyle: What a surprise. 

Pierce: Special Operations Executive's been wound down. I'm with MI5 now. 

Foyle: Congratulations. 

Pierce: Very good to see you again. I'll be brief. You must be tired after your long journey. Circumstances have arisen in which we feel we have a need of your help. 

Foyle: Circumstances being the end of the w*r? 

He sets his suitcase down.

Pierce: If only it had ended. We have a new w*r. A new enemy. 

Valentine: The Soviets. 

Pierce: George Orwell calls it "The Cold w*r" and I think that might prove apposite. 

Foyle: Well, it may well be the case, Miss Pierce. Precisely what it has to do with me I fail to understand. 

Pierce: Do you have any more luggage? We're taking you to London. 

Foyle: Well, I'm not going anywhere until I get a reasonable explanation of whatever these circumstances are. 

Pierce: Well, that will become clear. 

Foyle: And I'd like to make it perfectly clear that I won't be coming to London. 

Valentine: Then we'll have no alternative but to put you on a boat back to America. 

London. Two cars drive up to the MI5 building and park outside.

CAPTION: MI5 - Security Service, London

Inside. Pierce and Valentine lead Foyle through a typing pool full of secretaries. Pierce hands her walking stick, gloves and bag to one of them, Charlotte Brown.

Pierce: Thank you, Charlotte. 

Valentine turns back and gestures to Foyle.

Valentine: This way.

William Chambers' office. Chambers turns as Valentine opens the door.

Chambers: Mr Foyle. Come in, come in. William Chambers. 

He shakes Foyle's hand.

Foyle: How do you do? 

Chambers: Take a seat, please. 

He and Foyle take seats at a conference table while Valentine stands behind.

Chambers: Would you like some tea? 

Foyle: I won't, thank you. 

Chambers starts pouring tea for himself.

Chambers: Well, I'll get straight to the point. We live in a new age, Mr Foyle. New dangers. The atom b*mb. Strange to think, isn't it, after all we've been through, a single w*apon ten foot long could destroy all of London, much of southern England. Stalin is determined to get his hands on one. And a new w*r might suit him rather well. The thing is, he has plenty of sympathisers. Fellow travellers. Spies. Three weeks ago, a Russian cipher clerk named Aleksei Gorin defected from the Soviet Embassy. He brought with him certain documents which suggested the existence of a Soviet spy ring. 

Pierce enters the room carrying a file.

Valentine: The Eternity Ring. 

Chambers: It was new. It was well placed. And we'd never heard of it. Which was... rather worrying. 

Foyle: Excuse me. I don't understand what this has to do with me. 

Chambers: Well, if it exists, it's a serious thr*at to national security. Myself, I'm not convinced. I think this man Gorin is trying to sell us a pup. 

Valentine: Disinformation, designed to make us waste our time and resources. 

Chambers: Exactly. What we need here are police methods. The sort of forensic skills that would tell us what is true and what is not. 

Foyle: Doesn't answer the question. There are hundreds of qualified people available to you. I don't understand why I am here. 

Chambers: Well, it turns out you may have a personal connection. Show him the slides. 

Pierce switches on a slide projector.

Pierce: Professor Michael Fraser. 

The slide shows a picture of Fraser, seemingly unaware of the photographer.

Pierce: Highly distinguished physicist and a very senior member of a directorate called Tube Alloys. It's deliberately nondescript. It's actually responsible for the collation and advancement of atomic research. 

She switches to the another slide.

Pierce: Marc Vlessing, Dutch national living in London. And a known go-between working for the Soviets. According to papers taken by Gorin, he's had three meetings with a scientist whose codename is Jenny. 

Valentine: Fraser is a philatelist. He collects stamps, and the inverted Jenny is a highly prized specimen. 

Foyle: I don't know any of these people. 

Pierce: Fraser's wife Helen assisted him in all his work until she became unwell and he took on a secretary, whose pictures were also brought to us by Gorin.

The next picture is of Sam, seemingly about to hand a folder over to Vlessing.

Chambers: Her name is Samantha Wainwright. You knew her as Samantha Stewart, I believe. It's only when we looked into her background that we realised her connection with you. She was your driver, I understand. 

Foyle: So what are you suggesting exactly? 

Chambers: Well, I'm afraid the evidence is right there in front of you. 

Foyle studies the slide.

Foyle: Where was this taken? 

Pierce: Outside the Old Vic Theatre. 

Foyle: When was it taken? 

Pierce: A month ago. 

Valentine: Chekhov was playing.

He gestures to a partly obscured poster ending with a V visible behind Vlessing in the picture.

Valentine: Cherry Orchard. 

Chambers: Has she ever shown any Communist sympathies? 

Foyle: Not to me. 

Chambers: Well, you've been away. Mr and Mrs Wainwright spent three months in a Communist cooperative house near Sevenoaks before they moved closer to London. Plenty of time to change her views. Or she could have been acting out of some misplaced loyalty to her employer. 

Valentine: Her motivation isn't really the issue, Mr Foyle. If she's passing on atomic secrets, that makes her a traitor. And I don't need to remind a policeman what the sentence for that might be. 

Chambers: So you can see how it's absolutely in your interests to look into this for us. Find out what's going on. No need for any unpleasantness. Hmm? What do you say? 

Fraser house. Sam walks through holding some papers as Helen Fraser is heading upstairs.

Sam: How are you feeling today, Mrs Fraser? 

Helen: Much better. Thank you, Sam. 

Sam: I'm so glad. 

She walks on to knock on the door of Professor Fraser's office.

Inside, Fraser is looking through some papers.

Fraser: Come in. 

Sam enters.

Sam: I'm leaving now, Professor Fraser. You said I could leave early today. 

Fraser: Oh, yes, of course. 

She hands over the papers she's holding.

Sam: Here's your speech for University College. 

Fraser: Ah, thank you. 

Sam: And you need to make a decision about the dinner. The Association of Scientific Workers. 

Fraser: Oh, yes. Er, I think it's a no. I'm too busy at the moment. 

Sam: I'll write to them tomorrow. Is there anything else? 

Fraser: Er, no, no. Nothing, thank you. Er, see you tomorrow. 

She leaves.

A street in London. Frank Shaw stands staring at the b*mb damage left by the Blitz. He pulls a much-folded photo of his son from his wallet.

West Peckham. A bus pulls up at a stop and Sam gets off with a string shopping bag. She stands and takes a few breaths, looking exhausted, before walking on.

Housing estate. Sam walks down a busy street still in the process of being repaired, towards a group of prefab buildings. She passes two men working on laying paving.

Sam: Hi, Jim. Peter. 

Workman (offscreen): Think there's enough for another load, Pat?

Pat (offscreen): Yeah. It'll take about an hour.

Sam lets herself in to the corner house.

Inside. Sam enters and sets her shopping bag down on the hall table.

Adam (offscreen): Hello. 

He climbs down from a stepladder in the next room.

Adam: What sort of day? 

Sam goes over to hang her coat in the hall cupboard.

Sam: Not too bad. Not too much luck with the shopping, though. No salmon. No toilet paper. No Ovaltine. And no soft fruit. Apparently it's all been used by the WI for jam. 

Adam inspects the shopping bag.

Adam: Powdered eggs?

She takes it from him to carry through into the kitchen.

Adam: Bread? 

Sam: It's fourteen ounces to the pound now, which is ridiculous. It's got so much chalk in it I'm not sure whether we should eat it or write with it. 

Adam: You got more Spam.

He follows her through into the kitchen.

Sam: I hope you're not going to complain. 

Adam: No, no. I love Spam. 

She heads back into the dining room.

Sam: That's just as well, 'cause there's not much else around. 

She sighs as she takes her hat off.

Sam: Sometimes I wonder whether we actually did win the w*r. 

Adam: Well, er, I do have some good news. 

Sam: What? 

She picks up an apron to put on as Adam comes out of the kitchen.

Adam: I've been shortlisted. 

Sam: What?

Adam: For the West Peckham by-election. 

He picks up a letter from the table.

Sam: That's wonderful! When did you hear? 

Adam: This morning. Arrived just after you left. 

She takes the letter from him.

Sam: Oh. You're gonna be an MP! 

Adam: Well, I'm going to be one of four potential candidates chosen to fight a safe Tory seat with a very faint possibility of becoming an MP. It's not quite the same. 

Sam: But it's still marvellous. 

They kiss, and then Sam heads back towards the kitchen.

Sam: Will you get paid? 

Adam: No. Actually, it's worse than that. I'm afraid you're gonna have to support me. I'll have to, er, cover my own travel and expenses unless I can get funding. That's unlikely. 

Sam: Well, you know I'm behind you, Adam. I'm completely behind you. And you can pay me back when you win. 

Adam: If I win. How do you feel about being an MP's wife? 

Sam: A Labour MP's wife? 

Adam: Yes. 

Sam: I'll buy a new hat. 

William Chambers' office. Foyle is collecting his hat and coat to leave.

Valentine (offscreen): It can't be discounted. 

Foyle: A woman giving an envelope to a man is not necessarily committing a crime. 

Valentine: Depends if she knows what's inside. 

Foyle: Well, of course. 

He picks up his suitcase and goes to leave.

Valentine: May I give you some advice, Mr Foyle? 

Foyle: Is that optional? 

Valentine: I know Sir William's very keen to have you in our outfit. Everything's changed since the w*r. More women. More amateurs. It seems like any Johnny-come-lately is welcome now. But actually very few people understand what we do and how we do it. And they find it harder to fit in than they might think. 

Foyle: So the advice would be...? 

Valentine: Best not to get out of your depth. Enjoy your retirement. From what I've heard, you've deserved it. 

Foyle: Wise words. 

He tips his hat.

Foyle: Thank you. 

He leaves.

MI5 building. Gorin is led through the building by two men.

Foyle (voiceover): Your name is Aleksei Gorin. You worked at the Soviet Embassy for two years before you defected. You were born in Smolensk. 

Office. Foyle is questioning Gorin at the desk while Valentine paces in the background.

Foyle: Studied at the Moscow Engineering Academy. 

Gorin: Yes, sir. It is there I was recruited. 

He says something in Russian.

Gorin: Red Army Intelligence. 

Foyle: And you speak English very well. 

Gorin: It was part of my job. 

Foyle: What was your job? 

Gorin: I was cipher clerk. 

Foyle: And what were your duties here in London? 

Gorin: There are, er, documents, sensitive documents, sent between the embassy and Moscow. And my work is, er, code and decode. You understand? 

Foyle: The Eternity Ring. Does that mean anything? 

Gorin: I do not know of this, no. 

Foyle: But you're aware of Soviet intelligence rings operating in Britain? 

Gorin: Of course. 

Foyle: Why have you chosen to defect? 

Gorin: I became unhappy with the work. British are my friends, allies. Together we fight against Fascism in the w*r and now I wish to live my life in freedom and democracy. 

Foyle picks up a set of keys from the desk.

Foyle: Er, these are items, er, taken from you when you were arrested. Correct? 

Gorin: They are for the house where I live in Kensington. My room. 

Valentine: We have checked them. 

Foyle looks through a stack of money and then picks up a pair of photographs. He shows one of a young woman to Gorin.

Foyle: Who is this? 

Gorin: Yelena. We were to be married. She is in Smolensk. 

Foyle: And it doesn't trouble you that you would never see her again? 

Gorin: I wish to live in England. 

Foyle nods.

Later. Valentine opens the door to let Gorin out. The two agents who brought him in are waiting outside.

Valentine: Back to the safe house. 

He closes the door again.

Valentine: Well? 

Foyle: Well, I'd say the girl is real enough. She might even be called Yelena, but, er, I bet she doesn't live in Smolensk. 

Valentine: How can you possibly know? 

Foyle: She's wearing a sweetheart pin, American Red Cross. She'd be local. He'd have met her here. 

Valentine picks up the photo to look at it.

Valentine: And she's the reason he's defecting? 

Foyle: I'd say so. 

Valentine: So what you're saying is the papers he stole are genuine. 

Foyle: Well, he could well be in spite of the fib. He probably genuinely stole them but I can't vouch for the papers. How could I? 

Valentine: Your ex-assistant isn't out of the woods yet. 

He opens the door for Foyle and they leave together.

Bankes Close. Frank Shaw stands smoking on the doorstep of his family's terraced house, then steps back in and closes the door.

Dining room. Frank's wife Ruth is making a cup of tea for her elderly mother, sitting in the corner.

Ruth: Put the kettle on again, will you, Frank? 

She gives the tea to her mother.

Ruth: Here you go, girl.

She picks up the teapot to head into the kitchen, where Frank is striking a match to light the stove.

Ruth: Ta, Frank. I have to pinch myself every time I see you. I still can't believe you're here. 

He cups her cheek.

Frank: Do you want to get rid of me? 

Ruth: No. No. You're home now. That's where you're going to stay. 

Frank: This isn't my home. 

Ruth: Well, it's gonna have to make do until we can find something else. And that might take a while. 

Frank: Where's John? Is he still in bed? 

Ruth: Yeah. He works late. 

She heads back through into the dining room, and Frank follows.

Frank: What sort of a job keeps a boy out until three o'clock in the morning? 

Ruth: I told you, he serves drinks. He's behind a bar.

Frank: He's too young to be serving drinks. What sort of future's that? 

Ruth: He enjoys it. 

Frank: You should never have let him leave school. 

Ruth: You think I could have stopped him? It's not been easy. You've been away, Frank. 

Frank: I know. But I'm back now. 

Ruth: Anyway, it's not John you need to worry about. What are you going to do? 

Frank: Oh, I'll sort myself out. 

Ruth: You going back in the police? 

A door slams upstairs.

Frank: Yeah, I suppose so. It's all I know. 

Their teenage son John comes down the stairs, passing Frank to speak to his mother.

John: Morning. What's for breakfast? 

Frank: Breakfast? You mean dinner. And your mother's not here to wait on you hand and foot. 

Ruth: I've got some bacon. 

John: No. Forget it. I'll go out. 

He heads for the door.

Frank: John. 

John: Not now, Dad. All right? 

Frank: Don't talk to me like that. 

John: How do you want me to talk to you? I haven't seen you for six years. I don't even know who you are. 

He leaves, slamming the front door.

Outside the Old Vic theatre. Foyle approaches the building, comparing the view to the photograph of Sam and Vlessing. He takes a look at the poster on the wall, in the same position as the one in the photo but now advertising a different play. Then he turns and walks away, rounding a corner.

Across the square, Sam and Fraser are walking along together. Max Hoffman catches up to them, carrying a file folder.

Hoffman: Michael. 

Fraser: Max. Have you read it? 

Sam stands off to the side, waiting and looking around, as the two of them talk.

Hoffman: Yes. Your analysis of the Los Alamos incident is- it's masterly. 

Foyle stands at the other side of the square, watching them.

Fraser (offscreen): It should never have happened. 

Hoffman (offscreen): Hard radiation. Air ionisation. 

Fraser (offscreen): It could have been much, much worse. 

Sam, still looking around, spots Foyle.

Sam: Professor Fraser, do you mind if I take lunch early today? 

Fraser: No, no, of course not. 

She walks off across the square, and Fraser and Hoffman walk on together.

Fraser: Er, you didn't show this to anyone, I hope? 

Hoffman: No, of course not. I wouldn't dream of doing so. 

Sam and Foyle walk towards each other.

Sam: Mr Foyle. What are you doing here? 

Foyle: I've come to see you. 

Sam: How did you know I was here? 

Foyle: Your husband. 

Sam: Oh. How was America? It seems an age since you went away. So much has happened. 

Foyle: Well, you can tell me all about it. 

Sam: Yes. 

Refectory. Sam and Foyle are at a table together.

Foyle: So you're working for a physicist? 

Sam: Yes, sir. After we lost the hotel, we shared a place in Sevenoaks. Then we moved to London. Adam's in politics. Did he tell you he's going to be an MP? 

Foyle: No, he didn't. 

Sam: Well, he's hoping to be selected anyway. But I had to get a job, you see. Professor Fraser's a brilliant man. He more or less invented the electric shells that we used against the kamikaze pilots. Something to do with reflecting waves or something. They say he saved hundreds of lives. 

Foyle: Interesting work, though? 

Sam: I don't understand all of it. But I know it's important work. I'd do anything for him. His wife used to help him but she's been taken ill. I work at the house sometimes too, so I see quite a bit of her too. 

Foyle: And London? How d'you get on with London? 

Sam: Truth is, we can't afford to go out much. 

Foyle: Well, I understand.

Sam: We've been to some theatre. Dance halls. 

Foyle: Bit of a change from Sevenoaks, then. 

Sam: Sevenoaks was as dull as dishwater. 

She prods at her food unenthusiastically.

Foyle: Not hungry? 

Sam sighs.

Sam: Sorry. No. I wouldn't mind some tea, though. 

As she looks around for a member of staff, Professor Fraser arrives.

Fraser: Ah, there you are, Mrs Wainwright. 

He approaches their table.

Sam: Professor Fraser, may I introduce you to my former employer? Mr Foyle. 

Fraser: Detective Chief Superintendent Foyle. I've heard a lot about you. Pleased to meet you. 

They shake hands.

Foyle: How do you do? 

Fraser: I understood you were in America. 

Foyle: Well, just back. 

Fraser: I spent a good deal of time there myself last year. Er, so what brings you to London? 

Foyle: Well, erm, friends. Er, I'm just passing through. 

Fraser: You managed to find yourself somewhere to stay? Hotels are bursting at the seams. 

Foyle: I got a room. 

Fraser: Well, it's very nice to have met you at last. Er, Mrs Wainwright, I'm afraid that there are some pages that need to be retyped. 

Sam: Oh. Right away, Professor Fraser. I'm so sorry. Sorry. 

She goes to get up, but he urges her back down.

Fraser: No. No, no, no. You finish your lunch. This can wait. 

He turns to Foyle.

Fraser: Look here, you can't survive on refectory food. Would you care to come to dinner tonight? Er, some friends from America have sent me a ham, would you believe? 

Foyle: Well, that's very kind of you. 

Fraser: Well, not at all. No. Seven o'clock, shall we say? 

Foyle: Thank you. Good man. 

He leaves.

MI5 building, William Chambers' office. A woman sets a tea tray on the table between Pierce and Chambers.

Pierce: Thank you, Margaret. 

Chambers: So, Foyle thinks Gorin is genuine. 

Pierce: Then in that case he almost certainly is. 

Chambers: Well, if you have such a high opinion of him, why were you so opposed to my bringing him in? 

Pierce: Because of his association with Fraser's secretary. Samantha Wainwright. 

Chambers: If Gorin is genuine, then so is the Eternity Ring. 

Pierce: So it would appear. 

Chambers: That's inconceivable. No spy ring of that magnitude could exist without my knowing something about it. Who formed it? Who runs it? Where it began. What's it doing? Well, let's hope Mr Foyle does live up to my expectations. This has to stop. 

A London street, evening. A taxi pulls up and Hoffman gets out and pays the driver.

Hoffman: Keep the change. 

Driver: Oh, thanks, guv. 

He drives away. Hoffman walks on around a corner past a row of doors and knocks on one. A young man, Tomasz Debski, opens it.

Hoffman: Tomasz. 

Tomasz: You're late. I thought you weren't going to come. 

Hoffman: You don't need to worry. I said I'd be here, I'm here. 

Tomasz: Do you want to come in? 

Hoffman: No. Here you are. 

He hands over an envelope.

Tomasz: Thank you. 

They exchange a few words in Polish, then Hoffman leaves. Tomasz looks around before heading back inside.

Fraser house. Foyle is looking at Fraser's stamp collection in the study when Fraser comes up behind him.

Fraser: Do you collect stamps, Mr Foyle? 

Foyle: Er, well, once upon a time, yes. These are quite rare, aren't they? 

Fraser: Yes, fairly. 

Foyle picks up a magnifying glass to look at one.

Foyle: Well, this one certainly is. The image, it's been printed upside down. 

Fraser: Ah, that's the pride of my collection. It's very valuable. 

Foyle: And the plane that's, er, an American Curtiss? 

Fraser: Oh, well spotted, yes. Curtiss JN-4. 

Foyle: Oh, because the stamp is... 

Fraser: It's the inverted Jenny. 

Foyle: Right. 

The maid, Phyllis, appears in the doorway through to the dining.

Phyllis: Sir. 

Fraser: Oh, would you like to come through? 

Foyle: Yes, thank you. 

They head through to the dining room as Helen and Max Hoffman enter by another door.

Helen: Phyllis, cocktails. 

Fraser: You haven't met my wife. Helen. 

Helen: It's a great pleasure to meet you, Mr Foyle. 

They shake hands.

Foyle: Thank you for the invitation, Mrs Fraser. 

Helen: Oh, Helen, please. 

Fraser: And this is Max Hoffman, a colleague of mine. We met in New Mexico a year ago. 

They shake hands.

Foyle: How do you do? 

Fraser: It was a day I'll never forget. 

Hoffman: Don't let Michael fool you into thinking that was anything to do with me. It was a memorable day for both of us. 

Fraser: The day the world changed. When, when everything changed. 

Helen: Michael. 

Fraser: Yes, yes, I know. 

Street, night. Tomasz is returning to his house. He sees two uniformed policemen talking to a woman in the doorway and stops to watch them warily. They turn to look in his direction and he flattens himself against the side of the car.

Fraser house. The group have finished their meal but are still sitting around the table.

Hoffman: I came to this country in '33 when h*tler became Chancellor. Of course, I was interned. 

Fraser: Well, quite right too. He was a bloody Communist. 

Helen: Michael! 

Fraser: Well, it's true. 

Hoffman: Back then in Germany you were either a Communist or n*zi. There was no third alternative. 

Fraser: Ah, but you brought your politics with you, didn't you, Max? 

Hoffman: I kept my beliefs. 

Foyle: Still? 

Hoffman: Yes, Mr Foyle. I think the people in this country have forgotten that before the Americans arrived, the British had only one true ally. 

Fraser: Stalin. 

Hoffman: Correct. 

Fraser: And now the man's a monster, m*rder his own people. 

Hoffman: But the ideal is still there. To build a new world.

Fraser: Only by slaughtering the old one. 

Hoffman scoffs.

Helen: How long do you plan to stay in London, Mr Foyle? 

Foyle: Well, er, just a few days. 

Fraser: Why exactly are you here? Look, if it's to check up on Sam, let me assure you, she's being well looked-after. 

Helen: She's a terrific girl, hard-working. We're glad we found her. 

Wainwright house. Adam brings two cups of tea over to Sam where she's sitting by the f*re.

Adam: So, you saw Mr Foyle. 

Sam: Yes. 

He sits down next to her.

Adam: You don't think it's a bit strange, his turning up like that? 

Sam: What do you mean? 

Adam: Well, he's only just got back from America and now he's having dinner with your boss. 

Sam: I don't think there's anything strange in that. 

Adam: By the way, did you ask for time off? 

Sam: When? 

Adam: Next Tuesday. The selection. 

Sam: Oh, do I have to come?

Adam: Absolutely. They like to meet the wives. 

Sam sighs.

Sam: "The wives." Is that how you see me, as some, some sort of attachment? 

Adam: Of course not. 

Sam: And what if I couldn't live up to your expectations? 

Adam: Sam, what are you talking about? 

Sam: Well, I, I didn't vote Labour the last time. I'm not sure if I ever would. 

Adam: I'm sure they won't ask. But it might be better not to mention it. 

She laughs a little and puts her arm around his shoulders.

Shaw house. Frank is polishing his boots in the hallway as John comes down the stairs, whistling, and heads through to the dining room.

John: Good night, Gran. 

Frank: You off, then? 

John: Yeah. 

Frank: So where is it, this place that you work? 

John: Well, it's a bar. That's all. 

Frank: Is that the best you can do for yourself? Thought you might follow me into the police. 

John: You're not in the police. 

Frank: I will be.

John goes to leave.

Frank: John! It's not my fault I went away. I didn't want to leave you and your mum. 

John: I know, Dad. I'm glad you're back. But I learned to look after myself while you were away and that's how it is now. All right? 

He leaves.

Alleyway, night. Valentine is walking along. He makes a quick turn to make sure he's not being followed. Then, still looking around, he approaches a door. There's a faint sound of singing and laughter within. He knocks, and someone unseen opens the door.

Man (offscreen): Yes, dear? 

Valentine: I'm Philip Blake. 

Man (offscreen): Come in, sweetie. 

He goes inside and the door closes behind him.

Fraser house. Phyllis comes up the stairs to the scullery where Helen is putting things away.

Helen: Is that everything? 

Phyllis: Nearly, ma'am. 

As she leaves the room, Foyle arrives, bringing some of the tea set with him.

Helen: Oh, thank you, Mr Foyle. You shouldn't have bothered. Phyllis can see to that. 

Foyle: Not at all, it's a pleasure. Thank you for dinner. 

Helen: I'm pleased to have met you. We feel we've got to know Sam so well over these past six months. 

She suddenly bows her head as if feeling faint.

Foyle: You all right? 

Helen: Yes. Could you pour me some water? 

He pours a glass out from a jug and hands it to her.

Foyle: Here we are. 

Helen: Thank you. 

She drinks some of the water.

Foyle: Any better? 

Helen: Yes. I'm sure Sam will have told you I've not been well recently. That's why we had to hire her. Please don't mention this to Michael. I don't like him to be worried. 

Foyle: Well, of course. 

Phyllis returns to the room.

Helen: You can get off home, Phyllis. Oh, and don't forget the professor's tea in the morning. 

She hands Phyllis a thermos.

Phyllis: I won't, ma'am. 

She leaves again.

Helen: He's driving up to Oxford. Two hours each way. He won't manage without his tea. 

Foyle: I should be going. 

Outside. Foyle and Hoffman are both leaving the house.

Hoffman: Thank you. Good night. 

The door closes behind them, and the two of them walk along in the same direction.

Hoffman: They are a remarkable couple, don't you think? 

Foyle: Mmm.

Hoffman: She was herself a scientist of some repute. She wrote a paper on the implosion lens. Fermi referenced it when he spoke at the APS. 

Foyle: What exactly are you and the professor working on at the moment? 

Hoffman: Oh, we are involved in various projects. Ah. 

He stops and pats his pockets.

Hoffman: I've left my cigarette case back at the house. Er, can you find your way alone? 

Foyle: Of course. 

Hoffman: Then I'll say good night. 

They shake hands.

Foyle: Good night. 

Foyle walks on around the corner, while Hoffman heads back towards the house. He checks to make sure Foyle is gone, then heads across the street, where Tomasz is waiting.

Hoffman: What is it? 

Tomasz: I'm sorry, I had to see you. 

Hoffman: What's happened? 

Tomasz: The police were at my house this evening. They were asking questions. 

Hoffman: About you? About me? 

Tomasz: I don't know. I saw them. I didn't go in. 

Hoffman: The police...

He looks off in the direction Foyle went, then ushers Tomasz the other way.

Hoffman: Let's go back. 

Tomasz: Where? 

Hoffman: I, I'll come with you. Er, I'll check it's all right. If not... well, we'll see. 

Still back at the corner, Foyle watches them go. Then he turns and walks on.

A country road, daylight. Fraser and Hoffman stand by a parked car at the side of the road, drinking tea from Fraser's thermos.

Hoffman: What did you make of our guest last night? 

Fraser: Foyle? Why, he seemed pleasant enough. 

Hoffman: I thought so, too. But then something rather strange happened. I had a visit from the police. Well, a friend of mine did. They were asking questions. 

Fraser: About you? 

Hoffman: I don't know. It may have just been a coincidence. But I decided to make a few enquiries and it seems that Mr Foyle, far from being retired, has links with the security service. 

Fraser: What? 

Hoffman: MI5. 

Fraser: How do you know? 

Hoffman: I have a contact. I asked. 

Fraser: Mrs Wainwright introduced him to me. 

Hoffman: Perhaps unwittingly. 

Fraser: I mean, why would they send him? Why would he have any interest in me? 

Hoffman: I'm sorry, but I thought you should know. 

Fraser: Well, thank you. You were right. 

He tips out the last of the tea from the thermos onto the ground, then they get back into the car and drive away.

Shaw house. Ruth carries a plate out to her mum at the breakfast table.

Ruth: Here you go, Mum. Bacon and toast. You enjoy that. 

Frank is sitting at the table in his army uniform, reading a newspaper.

Ruth: You look very smart, Frank. 

Frank: Interview's at ten. 

Ruth: I'm sure they'll snap you up. 

Frank: That's another thing. Once I get a job, you won't need to work any more. 

Ruth: I quite like working. I've got used to it. 

Frank: What? Nine hours a day in a shop? 

Ruth: It's seven hours and a half hour for lunch. And it's a department store. Not the same thing at all. 

She kisses her mother.

Ruth: Anyway, not gonna turn our noses up at four pounds a week. 

Frank: We won't need it. 

Ruth: Well, we'll talk about it once you're settled. 

Frank: Ruthie. 

He gets up.

Frank: I just want things to be the way they were. 

Ruth: I'm gonna be late. I've made you some lunch. Try not to disturb John. 

She kisses him on the cheek

Ruth: And good luck. I hope it goes well. 

She hurries out of the door. Frank turns back to her mother at the table.

Frank: You enjoying that? 

Wainwright house. Adam is going through books and leaflets in the sitting room. Sam enters the room.

Sam: I'll see you later, then? Three o'clock. 

Adam: West Peckham Town Hall. You got the address? 

Sam: Yes. Don't worry. I'll be there. What are you gonna do till then? 

Adam: Swotting up. Sharpe. Collingwood. Beatrice Webb. Our last manifesto. And the White Paper on the National Health Service. 

Sam: I prefer Agatha Christie. 

Adam: Well, just don't tell them that. 

Sam: Don't worry. "Though cowards flinch and traitors sneer, we'll keep the red flag flying here."

She pats him on the back, and they kiss.

Adam: I do love you, you know. 

Sam: And I love you. 

She walks off, humming The Red Flag.

Adam: Don't be late. 

Arnwell. Fraser and Hoffman's car drives towards a large research facility.

CAPTION: Arnwell Atomic Research Facility

The car stops at a barrier and a security guard comes out with a clipboard.

Guard: May I have your passes, please? 

They both show him their passes.

Guard: Thank you, sir. 

They drive on into the facility, and get out of the car. They grab their bags and Fraser his thermos from the back and then walk towards the building together.

Fraser: So, I have that meeting later in Oxford, Max. Are you all right to make your own way home? 

Hoffman: Sure, Michael. I'll take the train.

Fraser: Good man. 

They pass two men in white coats.

Fraser: Afternoon, boys. 

Scientist: Professor. 

Police station. Frank Shaw walks in and up to the duty officer at the front desk.

Duty Officer: Yes? 

Frank: Name's Shaw. I have a meeting with Chief Superintendent Cranborne. 

The officer looks at his paperwork.

Duty Officer: Shaw, did you say? Your name's not on the list. 

Frank: Frank Shaw? Interview's at ten. 

Duty Officer: Is this about the canteen? 

Frank: No, I'm a police constable, like you. 

Duty Officer: All right. Take a seat. I'll let him know you're here. 

An old man walks up to the desk as Frank goes over to sit down

Duty Officer: Just one moment, sir. 

Old Man: Excuse me, is Sergeant Harrington here? 

Duty Officer (offscreen): Sir? There's a Frank Shaw here to see you. Yes, sir. Of course. 

William Chamber's office. Chambers and Pierce stand observing while Valentine shows Foyle a set of documents laid out on the table.

Valentine: All these documents are marked "vechnost". That's Russian for "eternity". Russian intelligence use only codenames for their agents, even in internal communications. These are translations. So here we have "Trinity", "Juniper", and... our friend Jenny, promising to provide information on the implosion lens, which happens to be Helen Fraser's speciality. 

Chambers: Yes, that may be the case, but I don't think Fraser's a part of it. I met him. He's not a Communist. He's a scientist. He's never shown any really interest in politics. What do you think? 

Foyle: Well, I think, erm, a handful of codenames in a dozen or so letters, er, isn't a great deal to go on. 

Valentine: Plus meeting places, letterboxes, passwords. 

Foyle: All of which could easily have been put into place to waste your time. 

Chambers: Exactly. 

Foyle picks up the photo of Sam with Vlessing.

Foyle: And the only piece of concrete evidence that you got is this photograph. I mean, I can speak to her. You should speak to him. I'm surprised you haven't done so already. 

Pierce: No. If we question Vlessing, it will only let the Russians know how little we know. 

Foyle: And if you don't, you'll know nothing more. 

Valentine: It's not as if he's committed a crime, Mr Foyle. This isn't about bodies in the library or stolen petrol coupons or whatever else you got up to in Hastings. It's called tradecraft. It's a different world. 

Foyle: And I'd agree. And it's a world you've chosen to bring me into because you claim to value my opinion. My opinion is the only way forward is to speak to Vlessing. Of course, it's your prerogative to ignore it. 

Chambers: Do it. 

Valentine: Actually, er, we've lost Vlessing. We do know that he checked into the Randolph Hotel in Oxford on Friday night, but we don't know where he is now. 

Chambers: Then find him. 

Valentine: We'll look in his flat in Kennington. 

Foyle: Without a warrant? 

Valentine: We don't need a warrant. 

Foyle: Ah. No idea the service was above the law. 

Pierce: Sir William... arresting this man is... 

Chambers: Arrest, interrogation, investigation. Police methods, Miss Pierce. Exactly what we need. 

He leaves.

Vlessing's flat, Kennington. Vlessing is working on building a model aeroplane when the phone rings. He goes over to pick it up.

Woman (over phone): Vlessing? 

Vlessing: Yes? 

Woman (over phone): You wish to live, leave now. 

Vlessing: Who is this? 

Woman (over phone): Leave now. 

The woman hangs up. Vlessing sets the phone down. He hears a car engine outside and looks out of the window. Two cars pull up in front of the building. He grabs his keys and heads out, locking the flat behind him and running down the stairs.

Outside. Valentine and Foyle get out of their car.

Valentine: This is the place. 

Inside. Vlessing reaches the bottom of the stairs.

Valentine (offscreen): Come on, you two. 

Vlessing runs for a back exit.

Outside. Two more agents have got out of the other car.

Valentine: Shall we? 

Behind him, Vlessing walks out from around the side of the building. One of the agents points at him.

Agent: Sir. 

Valentine: Vlessing? 

Vlessing looks back at him, then starts to run.

Valentine: That's him. Get after him! 

The two agents run after Vlessing, while Valentine and Foyle head back to their car.

Valentine: We can cut him off in the car. 

Yard. Vlessing runs through a set of gates, the two agents in hot pursuit. Valentine drives past the gates and on along the street. Vlessing reaches at set of steps at the other side of the yard, and one of the agents manages to grab him. Vlessing shoves him away, then grabs a dustbin from the top of the steps and throws it at the two men chasing him. As he reaches another set of gates back onto the street, Valentine pulls up in the car to block the way. Vlessing stops for a moment, but seeing the two men still chasing, runs out into the road behind the car.

Man (offscreen): Oi, watch out! 

A van hits Vlessing just as Foyle rounds the car and the two agents catch up. Valentine gets out of the car as well, and they walk towards Vlessing where he lies in the street. Foyle stops along the way to pick up Vlessing's dropped keys. The side of Vlessing's face is bloody. One of the agents kneels down to take his pulse.

Agent: He's still breathing. 

Vlessing blinks weakly.

Valentine: Interview postponed. 

He turns to walk back to the car.

Police station front desk. The duty officer is on the phone.

Duty Officer: All right. 

He sets the phone down.

In the waiting area, Frank is sitting smoking and reading a newspaper. The desk phone rings.

Duty Officer (offscreen): Yes. Shaw? Super will see you now. 

He gestures to another police officer, Gerry, behind him.

Duty Officer: Would you, er...?

The officer escorts Frank up the stairs and into Detective Superintendent Cranborne's office.

Gerry: Sir. 

Cranborne is at his desk. He looks at a piece of paper.

Cranborne: Shaw? Is that right? Sit down, sit down. Thank you, Gerry. 

Gerry leaves, closing the door behind him. Frank takes a seat opposite Cranborne.

Cranborne: So, what's this all about? 

Frank: I wrote to you, sir, about returning to the force. 

Cranborne: You a constable? 

Frank: Yes, sir. 

Cranborne: With the Met? 

Frank: No, sir. I served in Hastings under Detective Chief Superintendent Foyle. 

Cranborne: Can't say I've ever heard of him. You're still in uniform, I see. 

Frank: Just coming up for demob, sir. 

Cranborne: Took your time. A sergeant. 

Frank: Yes, sir. 

Cranborne: And what were you in Hastings? A constable? That'll be a bit of a step down. 

Frank: I don't see it that way. 

Cranborne: I'm fed up to the take with ex-majors and captains, and all these gentleman types from the Army, expecting us to defer to them just because they waltzed off and left behind. Nobody gave a thought for the home front. That's the trouble. Afraid I can't help you, Smith. You're too late. 

Frank: It's Shaw, sir. 

Cranborne: We replaced our w*r reserves last year and although we were short staffed or for a while, we are now pretty much up to strength. Also, to be frank, I'm not sure your experience as a constable in Hastings would necessarily qualify you for a position with us here. Why don't you go back there? 

Frank: We were b*mb out. 

Cranborne: You and many others. I'm sorry I can't help you. I wish you a good day. 

He stands up and walks away.

Shaw: But... is that it? 

Cranborne: I'm sorry?

Shaw: I waited two hours. 

Cranborne: I think you should remember who you're talking to. I'm busy. We're all busy. You should be grateful you were seen at all. 

Shaw: I am, sir. Very grateful. 

He walks out.

Cranborne: Good!

Fraser house. Sam stands in front of Fraser and Helen in the sitting room.

Fraser: I'm sorry, Mrs Wainwright, but given the circumstances and the nature of my work, I feel I have no choice. 

Sam: But it's ridiculous. Mr Foyle's got nothing to do with the secret service. And, anyway, even if he were investigating you, I- I'm sure he would have said something to me. 

Fraser: But that's exactly the point. We can't be sure that he didn't. 

Helen: We'll give you good references. 

Fraser: And two weeks' salary. 

Helen: It's probably for the best. 

Sam nods and lets out a disbelieving huff.

Hospital. Valentine is speaking with one of the doctors.

Valentine: I see. Thank you, Doctor. 

Vlessing lies unconscious in a private room, a bandage around his jaw. Pierce arrives and takes a look at him.

Pierce: What happened? 

Valentine: Ah, he, er, tried to leg it, got h*t by a car. 

Pierce: Sir William won't be pleased. Can he talk? 

Valentine: He's still unconscious. 

She sighs.

Pierce: Will he live? 

Valentine: Apparently. 

Pierce: Pity. 

She leaves, and after a moment Valentine follows her out.

Hotel lobby. Sam approaches the receptionist.

Sam: Excuse me. 

Receptionist: Yes? 

Sam: Do you have a Mr Foyle staying here? 

Receptionist: Let me just check for you. 

Foyle (offscreen): They do. 

He walks through a set of doors behind Sam.

Foyle: What are you doing here? 

Sam: Hello, sir. I've just been told that you're investigating Professor Fraser... and that you've used me to get to him, as a result of which, I've lost my job and I wanted to know if it was true. 

Hotel lounge. Sam is looking at the photo of her and Vlessing.

Sam: Never met him. Never seen him before in my life. Vlessing? 

Foyle: Marc Vlessing. 

Sam: Never heard of him. And he works for the Russians? 

Foyle: Apparently. 

Sam: I don't understand. Why didn't you come straight out with it and show me this, if you suspected me? 

Foyle: I didn't... suspect you. But it's clear, certainly to me, from the moment I saw you, that there's something wrong. You're not yourself. There's something you're hiding. I assumed it was related and thought it in your best interests to deal with the situation carefully as possible. I can see I'm wrong...

Sam sniffs, starting to get upset.

Foyle: And I'm sorry. 

She holds up a hand and shakes her head.

Sam: Don't be sorry. 

Foyle: What is it? 

Sam: Er, it's rather a personal thing, sir, and I'd really rather not. 

Foyle: Can I help? 

Sam: Nobody can help. 

She sniffs and wipes away a tear.

Sam: Um, I've had some... difficulty. Something has happened that makes me believe that starting a family might not be as straightforward as I had previously imagined. 

Foyle: What does Adam say? 

Sam: I haven't told him yet. I didn't want to, not when he's so... um... 

Foyle: Mmm. 

Sam: So, now you know. I'm not a spy. I'm not working for anyone. And as for this, it's obviously a fake. But I did go to the Old Vic, two weeks ago. Shakespeare. Adam and I saw one of the Henrys. But I wasn't carrying an envelope, and I didn't meet anyone. And anyway, it's ridiculous to think that Professor Fraser is passing our secrets to the Russians. He hates them. 

Foyle: I know. 

Sam: I cannot believe that you used me to get to him and lost me my job. 

Foyle: You must realise that none of this was intended. The only reason I became involved is because it seemed you were in trouble and I though I can help. I still believe that's the case, because although you're completely innocent and this photography has been faked, there's a reason it's been faked and a reason you've been implicated, and it'd be worth finding out why. Don't you think? 

Sam: Yes, I do. Where do we start? 

Foyle: Well... I think it be less than sensible for you to be any more involved than you are already.

Sam: Well, I think it's less than fair that somebody should put me in a photograph and use me for whatever purpose without my knowledge and consent. And I understand you had the best intentions, but if you'd been straight with me from the start, I might still be employed. So, the least you can do, sir, is to allow me to do something about the situation. 

Foyle: Fair enough. 

Sam: So. When do we start? 

Arnwell Atomic Research Facility. An alarm sounds. A scientist waves for two of the security guards to follow him.

Man (offscreen): Secure the gate! 

They met another pair of scientists.

Scientist: What? What's going on? 

MI5 building. A woman dashes up the stairs carrying a piece of paper.

William Chambers' office. There's a knock on the door. Chambers and Pierce are both at the desk, and look up as Valentine enters with the piece of paper.

Chambers: What is it? 

Valentine: Unbelievable. This is from Arnwell. There's been a security breach. 

Chambers: Files? 

Valentine: Oh, worse than that. Much worse. One of the cabinets in Sector 5. 

Pierce: Sector 5? 

Valentine: 190 micrograms of Uranium-233 have been taken. 

Chambers: What? 

Pierce stands up.

Valentine: Theft was discovered an hour ago. 

He and Pierce head out together.

Valentine: Vlessing? 

Behind them, Chambers picks up the phone.

Kennington. Sam and Foyle get out of the car in front of Vlessing's block of flats.

Sam: How are we gonna get in there? 

Foyle: With a key. 

He takes Vlessing's keys out of his pocket.

Sam: How'd you get that? 

Foyle: I liberated it. 

Sam: Is this quite legal? 

Foyle goes to unlock the door.

Foyle: Well, it's not at all legal. But the security service doesn't seen have much regard for the law. 

He opens the door and they head inside.

Sam: You're not really gonna work for them, are you, sir? 

Foyle: Not if I can help it. 

They head for the stairs. A woman is just on her way down as they come up.

Sam: Which number is it? 

Foyle: They didn't tell me. 

Sam: Oh. That's tricky. 

She turns as the woman passes them.

Sam: Excuse me. We're looking for a Mr Marc Vlessing. 

Woman: I don't know him, dear. 

Sam: Erm, he, he's Dutch. Sort of sandy-haired. Travels quite a bit. 

Woman: Oh. That'll be him on the second floor. Flat 6. He's foreign. 

Sam: Thank you. 

Woman: Where are you from? 

Sam: The Department of Housing. 

Woman: Jumped the queue, did he? You should move him on. We don't want foreigners here. 

Foyle: You're a natural. 

Sam laughs.

Vlessing's flat. The two of them walk in and look around.

Sam: What are we looking for, sir? 

Foyle: Er, not sure till we find it. 

Sam looks at the model plane on the desk.

Sam: Ah. He's making a Sopwith Camel. 

Foyle: Anything connecting him to your ex-employer or to Hoffman would be useful. 

Sam: You know that Mr Hoffman lost most of his family during the w*r. The n*zi k*lled them all. 

Foyle: I do. 

Sam: I never saw Vlessing with either of them. At least not when I was there. 

She opens a drawer and takes out two passports.

Sam: He's got two passports. Dutch... and German. 

Foyle opens another drawer, which contains Communist leaflets. As they continue searching, Foyle notices a thermos on a shelf.

Sam (offscreen): Sir?

The door of the flat opens just as she turns to show him a g*n from one of the drawers.

Rifleman (offscreen): Put the g*n down! 

A pair of soldiers in gasmasks stand in the doorway, one of them holding a r*fle. Sam hastily puts the g*n down.

Rifleman: Don't move! 

Another soldier enters with a cracking Geiger counter, and sweeps it over first Sam, then Foyle.

Soldier: They're both positive. The whole room's hot. 

Rifleman: Get them both out of here, pronto. 

MI5 building, reception area. The receptionist puts the phone down just as someone comes over to hand her a file.

Receptionist: Thanks. 

She speaks into the intercom.

Receptionist: Colin's on line two for you, sir.

Valentine and Pierce walk through together from the door behind the receptionist.

Valentine: They've both been exposed. 

Pierce: Contaminated. Are they gonna be all right? 

Valentine: I don't know! This whole thing's getting out of hand. I did warn you. It's out of control. 

Pierce sighs in disgust as they head out of the building.

West Peckham Town Hall. Adam stands on the steps in front of the building, looking at his watch. He looks around.

Military base. A group of soldiers march through.

Sergeant: Left, left! Left, right, left! Left!

Inside. A soldier escorts Sam through to a changing area with lockers.

Sam: You can't do this. I have to leave!

Soldier: You need to get rid of these clothes and wash thoroughly. There's a shower cubicle just down the corridor. Use plenty of hot water and carbolic. 

Sam: I don't think you understand. I have to be somewhere at three o'clock. I promised. 

Soldier: I don't think you understand, miss. You've been exposed to radiation. Your health is at risk. You're not leaving here until you do as I say. Then you have to be seen by the doctor. Clothes there. 

He points off to the right of the door as he leaves, closing it behind him. As he stands in front of the door to guard it, another soldier escorts Pierce and Valentine through into the duty office opposite.

Town hall. Adam gives up waiting and heads into the building. An official notes him and hurries over.

Official: Er, yes? 

Adam: I'm Adam Wainwright. 

Official: Oh, right, er, comrade. 

They shake hands.

Official: Through here. 

Duty office. Foyle, now dressed in khaki, stands speaking with Valentine while Pierce sits in the corner reading through a file.

Valentine: Right. What were you doing in Vlessing's place? And what was Mrs Wainwright doing with you? 

Foyle: Firstly, you've no reason to keep her here, so I'd be grateful if you'd arrange to get her to West Peckham Town Hall as quickly as possible. 

Valentine: I don't thinking you're in any position to be making demands. 

Foyle: It's not a demand, it's a request for help and understanding. Her husband is facing selection as an MP. She needs to be there. 

Pierce stands up.

Pierce: She can go. 

She hands a sheet of paper to Valentine.

Pierce: Make sure she's been cleared. 

Foyle: Cleared by whom? 

Pierce: The doctor. You've both had a dose of radiation. Low level and brief, but best to be sure. 

Town Hall. People are talking and drinking tea. Councillor Glenvil Harris is speaking with one of the prospective candidates, Philip Conway, while an older woman, Maureen Greenwood, listens in.

Glenvil: No. No, no, listen. It isn't a question of whether we want it. We're all agreed on that. The question is whether we can afford it. 

Conway: Absolutely. 

Glenvil: Well, can we? 

Conway: I... no, I don't suppose we can. 

His wife Jane approaches him.

Jane: Philip? 

Adam enters the room, hanging up his hat.

Glenvil: Mr Wainwright! Councillor Harris. We met, remember? 

They shake hands.

Adam: Yes. How do you do? 

Glenvil: Yes, good. 

He gestures to Conway.

Glenvil: Mr Conway here is up against you. 

Adam and Conway shake hands.

Glenvil: He's one of our official explainers. Not that he's been explaining a lot to me. 

Woman: We were talking about the new pension levels. 

Glenvil: What do you think? Can we afford to pay them? 

Adam: I don't think we can afford not to. 

Conway: Maybe we could have a gradual rise over a period of twenty years. It's what Mr Griffiths proposed. 

Adam: But, er, this is the generation that lost their childhood to the first w*r. They've lived through the Depression. Now they've had to endure the misery of the second w*r. Don't we owe them something now? 

Glenvil: Well said. You here alone? 

Jane: You're not married, Mr Wainwright? 

Adam: Er, my wife's on her way. She's... late. 

Military base. A soldier opens the door of a car for Sam, also now in khaki overalls, with her hair untidily tied back. Valentine follows them out to the car.

Soldier: In you get, miss. We'll have you there in a couple of shakes. 

Foyle watches them through the office window, then turns to Pierce.

Foyle: How did you find us? 

Pierce: We had no idea you were there. We had an alert from the atomic research station at Arnwell. A quantity of uranium has been taken. 

Foyle: Vlessing was in Oxford. 

Pierce: Yes, I should have picked up on that. Arnwell's near Oxford.

Foyle watches her expectantly.

Pierce: Professor Fraser was at Arnwell, along with his colleague Max Hoffman. 

Foyle: Well, given that nothing, where you're concerned, is ever what it seems... 

Pierce: I don't know what you mean. 

Foyle: Well, you know as well as I do that Fraser detests Communism, Stalin and everything they stand for. By the same token, Mrs Wainwright was nowhere near the theatre at the time you stated. Neither has she met Vlessing. The photograph is a fake. I know it, you know it. So, at some point, I'd be grateful if you'd be kind enough to explain to me precisely what's going on. 

He leaves the office and Pierce lets out a huff.

Town Hall. Adam is waiting by the window next to the refreshment table. The official from downstairs enters the room.

Official: Mr Wainwright?

Adam heads out of the room.

Adam: Thank you. 

Hall. Adam approaches a selection panel of four people, which includes Glenvil Harris and Maureen Greenwood. There are two chairs set up in front of it.

Glenvil: Please. Sit down, Mr Wainwright. 

Greenwood: Mrs Wainwright didn't make it, then? 

Adam: She must be held up. It's unlike her to be late. 

Greenwood: There are many who would say it's very important for a prospective Member of Parliament, a man, or a woman, to show that they have a strong sense of family values. You may not agree. 

Adam: I do agree, Mrs Greenwood. 

Greenwood: West Peckham is a marginal seat. And like it or not, having a young wife may well be considered an asset. 

Adam: That's exactly my view. I'm always very proud to have Sam by my side. 

Greenwood: But she's not by your side. That's the point. 

Adam: I'm sure she'll be here soon. 

Glenvil: Well, there's no point in waiting for her, is there? Shall we get started?

Adam: Right. 

Hospital. A man walks in through a rear entrance, carrying a bunch of flowers.

Upstairs. A couple of agents sit on chairs outside Vlessing's room. One checks his watch, then taps it and stands up. The two men leave.

Vlessing's room. A nurse leaves the room. Vlessing is still unconscious or asleep.

Staircase. The man with the flowers passes the two agents on their way down. One glances back at him, but they keep going. At the top of the stairs, the man looks around, then enters Vlessing's room. He withdraws a needle from the bunch of flowers and clasps a hand over Vlessing's mouth. Vlessing struggles, but is unable to stop the man from injecting him in the neck. A moment later Vlessing goes limp.

Town Hall. Adam is still in front of the panel.

Glenvil: Is there anything you want to add, Mr Wainwright? 

Adam: Only that if you select me, I'll do everything I can, both for the constituency and the party. 

Greenwood: Goes without saying. 

The official opens the door behind them and Sam enters, out of breath.

Sam: Sorry I'm late! 

Adam stands up and goes to her as she approaches the table.

Sam: Adam. Will you ever forgive me? 

Greenwood: Mrs Wainwright? 

Sam: Yes. 

Adam: Where have you been? 

Sam: Er... it's a long story. Er, and I'm afraid I'm not even allowed to tell you. Erm... I was... trying to help a police officer. Detective Chief Superintendent Foyle. You see, I, I used to work for him. Except he's not a detective any more and... I'm not even allowed to tell you what he was doing there either. 

Glenvil: Please. Sit down. 

Sam: Thank you.

She and Adam both sit down.

Sam: Have we g*n yet? 

Glenvil: I'm afraid we've finished. 

Sam: What d'you mean? I, look, I know I look a complete wreck, but... these... aren't my clothes. Erm, but I want you to know I completely support my husband. 

Glenvil: Do you share his views? 

Sam: You mean... 

Greenwood: His political views. 

Sam: His political views? Absolutely. Well, not all of them. If you want the truth, I voted for Mr Churchill in the election, because he brought us through the w*r and I thought he deserved another chance but maybe I'm wrong. I don't really understand much about politics, but I can tell you this. Adam will make a wonderful candidate because... he's honest and he believes absolutely in what he does and ever since I've met him, the only thing he's wanted to do is to help other people. And the only mistake he's ever made, probably, is in marrying me. 

Adam clasps her hand.

Sam: But if you choose him, I promise I won't let him down again, or you. And he will win the seat. Peckham East. 

Adam: West. 

Sam: Right. 

William Chambers' office. Chambers walks into the room, followed by Pierce.

Chambers: d*ad? 

Pierce: Injected with potassium cyanide. All the hallmarks of a Soviet operation. 

Chambers: Wasn't he under guard? 

Pierce: Er, they left him unattended. 

Chambers: Good God. 

Pierce: They won't be coming back. Well, at least we've learned something, Sir William. This Eternity Ring is even more dangerous than we thought. Soviets will do anything, break any rules, to protect it. 

Chambers: And the isotopes stolen from Arnwell? 

Pierce: Er, we found them. Vlessing had them. 

Chambers: How did he get them? 

A street in London. Max Hoffman walks along. A man waiting behind a pillar watches him pass, then walks after him. He follows Hoffman to a pub. Hoffman looks around before going in, but doesn't notice his pursuer. The man enters a nearby phone box and begins to dial.

Inside. Hoffman sits at the bar with Tomasz, who eats a sandwich hungrily.

Hoffman: I may not be able to see you for a while. 

Tomasz: Why not? 

Hoffman: Things are happening. I can't explain. It is not to do with you. 

The pub door opens, and Foyle walks in. Tomasz and Hoffman both stand up.

Hoffman: Mr Foyle. 

Foyle: Good evening. 

Hoffman: It's all right, Tomasz. 

He urges him to sit down.

Hoffman: So I was right. You were sent to spy on us. 

Foyle: No, I haven't been sent. But you two were seen meeting the other night. And it would appear to be important to find out why, so, yes, you've been followed. 

Hoffman: This... is Tomasz Debski. My son, when I had a son, studied briefly at the University of Warsaw. They were friends. Tomasz came to England and joined the RAF. He flew 40 missions. He was as brave as any of them. But then one day... I, I don't judge him but nor do I excuse him... something snapped and he deserted. Since then he has been in something of a limbo. He has no ID, no ration book. He could be arrested at any time. I have been trying to help him with food and money because of the friendship he had with my son. 

Tomasz stands up.

Tomasz: This is my fault. I came to him. I should never have done that. 

Foyle looks between the two of them, then nods.

Bankes Close. Frank Shaw is heading back to the house. As he approaches, he sees Ruth standing on the doorstep, talking with a man, Eric. A moment later, Eric moves off and Ruth goes back in.

Shaw house. Frank enters and walks through to the dining room, where Ruth's mother sits at the table. Ruth comes through from the kitchen and starts setting the table.

Ruth: How'd it go? 

Frank: Who was that man? 

Ruth: Who? 

Frank: Just now. I saw you with him outside. 

Ruth: Have you been drinking? 

Frank: Who was he? 

Ruth: His name's Eric. He lives three doors down. He comes in now and then, to help out. The fuses, that sort of thing. 

Frank: And did he help out while I was a prisoner of the Japs? 

Ruth: Don't be absurd. 

Frank: Answer me! 

Ruth: Yes, he came in. He's a neighbour. Sometimes it helped to have a man about the house and Eric was there. 

Frank: What was he, then, a conchie? 

Ruth: No. He was wounded. He was invalided out. 

Frank: Didn't look injured to me. 

Ruth: What are you talking about? 

Frank turns to bellow up the stairs.

Frank: John! 

Ruth: He's at work. 

Frank: I want to talk to him. I want to talk to both of you. 

Ruth: What is it? 

Frank: I can't stay here any more. 

Mother: Who is this man? And what is he doing in my house? 

Frank turns around to leave.

Ruth: Frank! 

He leaves the house without looking back. Ruth sighs.

William Chambers' office, night. He paces, waiting. The phone rings, and he picks up right away. He listens for a few brief seconds then puts it back down. He takes his hat and coat and leaves.

Hanover Gate, night. A car pulls up in front the gates. Across the street, another car parks opposite. Chambers gets out of the first car, and it drives away. Chambers stands waiting in the rain. As a man walks out through the gates, Chambers stops him.

Chambers: What is the shortest route to the Strand? 

Russian Agent: Well... 

He turns and looks around.

A man takes a photograph from the car opposite.

Russian Agent: Come along. I'm going that way. 

They walk away from the gates together.

Chambers: I want you to tell me about the Eternity Ring. I want to know what's going on. 

The car opposite drives on.

Back alley club. A man leaves the club and walks off, the sound of singing drifting from inside.

Singer: ♪ If I were to see her... ♪

On the opposite side of the alley, Frank Shaw stands, smoking a cigarette and drinking from a bottle. The club door opens again, and Valentine emerges, smiling.

Frank (offscreen): Oi, you! 

Valentine turns abruptly. Frank tosses his bottle down on the ground.

Frank: What is this place?

Valentine dabs his mouth with a handkerchief.

Frank: And what are you? 

Valentine: It's a... private club. 

Frank: My son, John, he works in here. 

Valentine: Er, yes. Excuse me. 

He tries to walk on, but Frank grabs him by the front of his jacket. Valentine crises out in surprise.

Frank: You're a bloody nancy boy, aren't you? Huh, eh? Have you been touching my son? 

He knocks Valentine's hat off.

Valentine: I don't know your son. I don't know who you are. 

Frank: Yeah, well, I know what you are and I know your type, you bastard! 

He punches Valentine, who drops to his knees. Frank punches him a few more times and shoves him down on the ground. Then he backs away, raising his hands to his head.

Hospital. Foyle is visiting Valentine where he lies in a hospital bed, his face bruised.

Foyle: The doctor seems to think you'll be out in a couple of days. 

Valentine: Oh, good. What a relief. I can hardly wait. 

He winces a little.

Foyle: The police officers who helped you last night also spoke to me earlier. 

Valentine: Oh, God. 

He covers his face with his hand.

Valentine: So you know. 

Foyle: Know about what? 

Valentine: About the club. 

Foyle: A gentlemen's club? 

Valentine: That's one way of describing it. 

Foyle: Hmm.

Valentine: The man who att*cked me. He, he, um... 

Foyle: Yes. I know him. He's actually a decent man. 

Valentine: He... seemed to think that I'd... I never touched his son. It's, it's not like that. 

Foyle: I'm sure. 

Valentine: Who else knows? 

Foyle: At the office? 

Valentine: Yes. 

Foyle: No one. 

Valentine sits up a little.

Valentine: Um... I'd be... I'd prefer it... I'd, I'd, I'd be very grateful if... if, if, if they didn't find out. 

Foyle: I don't see any reason why they should. 

Valentine: Thank you. 

Foyle turns to go, and Valentine lies back with a sigh of relief. Foyle stops in the doorway.

Foyle: Just one thing. Sir William. Trust him? 

Valentine gives a faint huff of amusement.

Valentine: Miss Pierce doesn't. 

Foyle nods and leaves. Valentine sighs shakily again, then coughs and covers his face with his hand.

Police station. Ruth is sitting in the waiting area. A uniformed officer escorts Frank out from the back.

Policeman: Be good. 

He walks off. Frank notices Ruth as she stands up.

Ruth: Frank. 

Frank: Ruthie. 

She steps up and embraces him.

Frank: I'm so sorry. 

Ruth: Come on. Let's get you home. 

MI5 building. Pierce leads Foyle into an office.

Pierce: You heard about Vlessing? 

Foyle closes the door behind them as Pierce goes over to sit down at the desk.

Foyle: He died. 

Pierce: Mmm. But not as a result of the accident. He was poisoned. 

Foyle: Pretty convenient all round, then, I'd say. 

Pierce: Sorry? 

Foyle: Vlessing being the only person directly implicated in the so-called Eternity Ring. 

Pierce: Well, there's nothing so-called about it. 

Foyle: Well, it doesn't exist, does it? 

Pierce gets up from the desk.

Pierce: What makes you think that? 

She goes over and closes the second door out of the office.

Foyle: Well, what else does it consist of? A handful of codenames, papers and photographs, at least one of which has been faked. 

Pierce returns to her desk.

Pierce: Yes, so you keep saying, but I'll be interested in how you reached that conclusion. 

Foyle: Because, A, Samantha Wainwright has never met Vlessing. Vlessing was added to the photograph. B, the production she saw at the Old Vic was a Shakespeare production, not The Cherry Orchard. The V in the photograph is not the V in Chekhov, as much as you'd like me to think so. It is the V in Henry V.

He takes the photo out of his pocket and drops it on the desk.

Foyle: Which was on two weeks after Gorin's defection, which is when the photograph was taken. 

Pierce: You're not suggesting I was involved in this? 

Foyle: Well, I can't think of any other way it could happened. Can you? So Vlessing is implicated, about to be questioned, and he's tipped off by... I wonder whom? You didn't want me anywhere near him, did you? Why? 

Pierce: I told you. 

Foyle: Because you know very well he'd have said he'd never been anywhere near the Old Vic and had no idea what the Eternity Ring was. 

Pierce: And what would be the point of creating a fake spy ring? 

Foyle: Good question. You tell me. 

Pierce: I'm not the one explaining myself. 

Foyle: Yet!

Pierce: If you've got a theory, Foyle, I want to hear it. But I think this may be the time to keep your voice down. 

Foyle is silent for a moment.

Foyle: William Chambers? 

Pierce: What about him? 

He sits down opposite her.

Foyle: You doubt his integrity? There might be a better word. 

Pierce: Er, I think he's... unreliable. 

Foyle: Double agent, is this what you're saying? 

Pierce says nothing.

Foyle: So it's a trap? Aleksei Gorin, genuine defector, brings genuine stolen papers from the Soviet Embassy, to which you add a few of your own, giving the impression there's a network out there called the Eternity Ring. Very creative. If Chambers is a double agent, it's impossible he wouldn't know about it. Disorientation. Doubts himself, resulting in panic, errors... If you've been right, that is. This sort of thing, is it? 

Pierce: Yes. 

Flashback to Chambers waiting at Hanover Gate.

Pierce (voiceover): He couldn't believe the Eternity Ring existed. The only way he could be sure was by making direct contact with the Soviets. 

Pierce is inside the car waiting opposite the gates, along with two agents in the front seats.

Pierce: That's him. 

Pierce (voiceover): Even if this put him at risk. 

One of the agents starts taking photographs.

Pierce (voiceover): He met a Soviet agent at Hanover Gate. Which is exactly what I'd been waiting for. 

Pierce: Thank you. Drive on. 

Their car drives away.

Foyle: So you've been in control of all this, not him, and he's behaved in exactly the way you thought? 

Pierce: Mmm, with one exception. I had set up Fraser's secretary to implicate Fraser himself, not realising, nor recognising that she was your ex-driver. Sir William made the connection and insisted on hiring you. 

Foyle: And what'll happen to him now? 

Pierce: Mmm. He'll be replaced. 

Foyle: And Vlessing? 

Pierce: What about him? 

Foyle: Well, he could have talked. Did you have him k*lled? 

Pierce: Oh! Certainly not. Vlessing was exactly what I told you he was, Foyle. A spy. He had plenty of enemies. 

Foyle: His death is too convenient. 

Pierce: Sometimes things work out that way. 

Street outside the Wainwright house. Sam is just walking back with her shopping bag. Glenvil Harris is coming the other way, followed by Adam.

Glenvil: Good afternoon, Mrs Wainwright. I've just been talking to your husband. Our candidate for the coming by-election at West Peckham. 

Sam: What? Adam, you've been selected? 

Adam: Yes. 

Sam: Oh, that's wonderful! Why? 

Glenvil: Why? Well, he was the best candidate, and certainly the, er, most memorable. Ah, it's easy enough to stand in front of a committee and tell us what we want to hear, but, er, it's rare that someone comes in abd tells us what they really believe in. I think the two of you are gonna make a formidable team. 

Sam: Adam, I don't believe it. 

Adam: I'm not sure I can believe it myself. 

Glenvil: Well, believe it. You have yourselves a very good day. 

Sam: Goodbye. 

Glenvil walks away.

Sam: You did it! You're going to be an MP! 

Adam: Well, we haven't got there yet. 

Sam: Well, there's no question. With my help. 

Adam: Why do I feel there's just been a huge swing to the Tories? 

Sam: Oh, don't say that. Come on, Mr Right. First off I'm gonna make you some supper. Then we're gonna start work on the National Health and Social Security. Good old Attlee. I'm so proud of you. Adam Wainwright, MP. 

She kisses him.

William Chambers' office. He's packing up his desk as Pierce comes in.

Chambers: I imagine you want to know why.

Pierce: No, I have no interest at all. 

Chambers: Well, if you've come here to offer me a p*stol and a bottle of whisky, I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed. 

Pierce: No need. You disappear. Leave the country. Nobody sees you again. 

Chambers: Banishment. How very Elizabethan. And who takes over here? I wonder. Always knew you were ambitious. 

Pierce: I would have favoured beheading. 

She leaves.

Fraser house. Foyle is with Fraser in the sitting.

Fraser: I didn't expect to see you again, Mr Foyle. 

Foyle: I'm here to apologise for being at your house the other night under false pretences. 

Fraser: You came to spy on me. 

Foyle: Not exactly. But you'd be interested to know that you were being targeted long before I became involved. 

Fraser: Who by? 

Foyle: Intelligence. You were used in a scheme to expose an informer. It suggested that you, the least likely person in the country to help the Soviets, were in fact a spy. 

Foyle: And is that why you came here? 

Fraser: It was a situation I was drawn into unaware of their motives and I was trying to do the opposite of what they wanted and show that you weren't... a spy. 

Fraser: And were you successful? 

Foyle: Unfortunately not, because it turns out that, although they didn't know it, they were inadvertently absolutely right. 

Fraser: Right about what? 

Foyle: That you're a traitor. 

Fraser: I'm not a traitor, Mr Foyle. 

Foyle: What's your word for it, then? 

Fraser: How have you reached your, er, your conclusion? 

Foyle: By spotting the actual, genuine link between you and Marc Vlessing. 

Flashback to Helen, Phyllis and Foyle in the scullery.

Helen: You can get off home, Phyllis. Oh, and don't forget the professor's tea in the morning. He's driving up to Oxford. Two hours each way. He won't manage without his tea. 

Cut back to the present.

Foyle: The same flask showed up at Vlessing's flat. Perfect for tea for which you may well share a mutual fascination. 

Flashback to Foyle searching Vlessing's flat.

Foyle (voiceover): Not so perfect, in spite of the lead lining, for carrying radioactive uranium samples...

Cut back to the present.

Foyle: ...stolen by yourself from Arnwell and passed on to Vlessing, because he either opened it, or a seal was broken, resulting in the radiation leak. 

Fraser: I'm not a traitor. I'm a scientist. You have to understand a new world we find ourselves in, Mr Foyle. Hiroshima. Nagasaki. Do you have any idea of the power of the atomic b*mb? We've unleashed a monster. Forget the w*r we've just had. The next w*r is going to be unimaginable. It could wipe out all humanity. 

He sits down and sighs.

Fraser: Helen became ill because of it. Well, I can't be certain, but she was with me in New Mexico. The Trinity test. We were too close. And now she's dying.

He stands up again.

Fraser: I believe this knowledge is too dangerous to keep to ourselves. We have to share it. A brotherhood of scientists, Mr Foyle. That is what I'm talking about. Oh, I, I detest Stalin and what he's doing, but that doesn't mean to say that I think the Russians are bad people or that they deserve to be wiped out. Even Churchill wanted us to share this knowledge, you know. That is my vision. I am doing what I'm doing for the safety of mankind. 

Foyle: Well, call it what you like, you'd understand why not everybody would agree with you. 

Fraser: You've told them? MI5. 

Foyle: No. 

Fraser: But you're going to tell them? 

Foyle: Since you believe that your knowledge and vision should be shared, you might find it liberating to tell them yourself. 

Fraser: Yes. Yes. To make an example of myself regardless of the consequences. That might be the way. 

Foyle: I think it will have to be. 

Fraser nods.

Fraser: Goodbye, Mr Foyle. I'm glad to have met you. 

Foyle nods and leaves.

Outside. Foyle leaves the house. Pierce opens the back door of a car waiting outside.

Pierce: Mr Foyle. May I ask where you're going? 

Foyle: The hotel. Then home to Hastings. 

Pierce: Let me give you a lift. 

The car drives along over a bridge with Pierce and Foyle together in the back.

Pierce: I'll come straight to the point. I want you to stay with MI5. 

Foyle: What makes you think I'd do that? 

Pierce: Well, you always wanted to be part of the service. 

Foyle: I applied once during the w*r and was rejected. They had their chance. 

Pierce: This is no time for hurt feelings. This is business. You're very good at what you do and I'd like to work with you. 

Foyle: I haven't got the requisite capacity for deceit. 

Pierce: Precisely. I need someone I can trust. 

Foyle: Well, that would be mutual. 

Pierce: Point taken. Oh, come on, Foyle! What's your alternative? What are you gonna do for the rest of your life? Fish? Bigger fish to be caught here. 

He sighs.

Foyle: What about America? 

Pierce: Well, the Howard Paige situation means that you're not on the FBI's most popular list. But we can deal with them. 

Foyle: There's a Polish airman out there, flew 40 missions for the RAF and as a result finds himself in a situation he doesn't deserve. 

Pierce: I'll see what we can do. Anything else? 

Foyle: I'd need a driver. You owe it to her. So do I. 

The car comes to a stop and Foyle gets out.

Pierce: The work we're doing matters. I appreciate our methods may not be to your liking, but it's not our fault. It's just the way it is. 

Foyle closes the car door, and stands and watches as it drives away. Then he walks off.
{"type": "series", "show": "Foyle's War", "episode": "08x01 - The Eternity Ring"}