Beach, night. Teenage brothers Frank and Terry Morgan walk along, Frank carrying a coil of rope and Terry a bag.

CAPTION: HASTINGS, MARCH 1943

Frank: Bloody rope. 

Terry: What? What, is it too heavy for you? 

Terry jostles Frank.

Frank: Ah! 

They laugh.

Later. The two of them are leaving a hut on the beach.

Frank: Come on. 

Terry: I'm coming. 

Frank: Got the torch? 

Terry: Yeah. 

Frank: Trust me. Come on. 

Woods. The brothers walk through the trees and come to a house wall.

Frank: Right, this is the place. 

Terry: You sure? 

Frank: I told you, there's no one there. 

Terry: Okey-dokey. 

Frank: Up. Come on. Hurry up. 

Terry climbs over the gate and Frank follows. They cross the grounds of the house.

Frank: I love the w*r. The blackout. No cars on the street. It just makes life so easy. 

Terry: You sure there's no one here? 

Frank: No. Hand it over. 

Terry pulls a crowbar out of his coat and gives it to Frank.

Frank: Trust me, mate. This'll do it. 

Inside. A room with a grand crystal chandelier and fancy décor. There's the sound of shattering glass, and then the door opens and the boys walk in. Terry shines a torch around.

Frank: Cor, look at this place. It's like a bloody museum. 

They enter a grand hall with pillars and statues.

Frank: This stuff must be worth a fortune. 

Terry: No bloody use to us. 

Frank: Look, we can find the smaller stuff. 

A light clicks on up on the staircase behind them. They turn to see the house owner, Jose De Perez, wearing a smoking jacket and holding a revolver.

De Perez: Who are you? What are you doing here? 

Terry: Frank? 

Frank: We got the wrong house. We thought a friend lived here. 

De Perez: You are thieves. I heard you break the door. 

Frank: No. No, you got it wrong, mate. 

He hides the crowbar behind his back.

De Perez: Tell me your names. If you do not tell me, I will sh**t you where you stand. I will start with him. 

He cocks the g*n and points it at Frank.

Frank: Frank Morgan. That's my brother, Terry. 

De Perez: You are... burglars. 

Terry: We didn't mean anything, mister. We're sorry. We'll scram. 

De Perez: You will stay exactly where you are. Do you know what this place is? Do you know who I am? 

Frank: No, we just... 

De Perez: Shh-shh! 

He chuckles and descends the stairs to approach them.

De Perez: This could be the very worst night of your life or it could be the best. It could make you very rich because it just so happens I am looking for someone just like you.

Terry: What do you mean? 

De Perez backhands him across the face, keeping the g*n pointed at Frank.

Terry: Ah! 

De Perez: From now on, you speak only when you are spoken to. From now on, you work for me. 

OPENING CREDITS

Foyle house. A young woman, Lydia Nicholson, looks up at the house from outside. Her son James is sitting on the front steps alongside some suitcases. Foyle comes around the corner behind her. Lydia turns and hurries over to him.

Lydia: Don't you recognise me? 

Foyle: Lydia? 

Lydia: Was afraid you wouldn't. 

Foyle: You been here long? 

Lydia: No, no, no. Not long. We came on the coach. 

Foyle: Is this, erm...?

She takes James by the arm and brings him down the steps to present him.

Lydia: This is James. This is my son. Well, may we come in? 

Foyle: Well, of course. Yes, erm... 

Lydia: Come on, James. Pick your bag up. 

He unlocks the door and they walk through into the room.

Foyle (offscreen): Here were are. Come on through.

Lydia: In you go.

James looks around as they walk through into the front room.

Lydia: Sit down. 

Foyle: Right. 

Lydia: So, here I am. 

Foyle: Yes, well... looking very well. 

Lydia: I am well. I don't know what you must think of me, turning up like this. 

Foyle: Well, I was very sorry not to see you at the funeral. 

Lydia: Oh. Yeah, I wanted to go but they wouldn't have wanted me there. I'm sorry. I, I know how close you and Daddy were.

Foyle looks at James, who sits on the sofa, ignoring them both.

Lydia: My husband's in Tripoli. He's, erm, he's a staff sergeant in the 11th Hussars. 

Foyle: Right. You married him? 

Lydia: Yes. I'm Lydia Nicholson now. 

Foyle: Mmm. 

Lydia: Erm, I'm sorry you never met him. You know, you'd like him. 

Foyle: And, er, well, have you had something to eat? 

Lydia: No. 

Foyle: No?

Lydia: No, we haven't had anything.

Foyle: Would you like something What would you like? 

He looks at James, who doesn't look up.

Lydia: He won't talk to you. He won't talk to anyone. He was, er, at Sibford Street School. 

Foyle: Ah. Right. 

Research centre, Melton Road. A car with an MTC driver is parked outside the building.

Boothroyd (voiceover): It's a very simple question, Professor Townsend. 

A navy captain, Boothroyd, walks around a large mechanical device, speaking to Professor Henry Townsend.

Boothroyd: Is it or isn't it going to work? 

Townsend: Well, the question may be simple, Captain Boothroyd, but I'm afraid the answer is rather less so. 

Boothroyd: We need to know. We've got the test tomorrow and the actual operation itself is planned for just one month from now. 

Townsend's assistant, Hans Lindemann, walks up to join them.

Boothroyd: Now, we're only going to get one crack at this. We have to know. 

Hans: There's nothing wrong with the machine. It works. 

Townsend: Thank you, Hans. It's not just the machine. There are all sorts of elements we need to factor in. Initial velocity, underbody turbulence, speed and height, of course. And then there's the question of weight. 

Secretary Evelyn Richards approaches him.

Evelyn: These are the latest figures we've received, professor. They're reducing both the size and weight. 

He takes a document from her and puts his glasses on.

Townsend: Mmm. Well, may make a difference. I don't know. And then there's still the question of the framework. 

Boothroyd: I'm sorry? 

Townsend: These wooden slats that will encase the central sphere. 

Hans: That's the problem. They won't hold. 

Townsend: Well, we don't know, of course, but it's what we believe. Anyway, tomorrow's tests will tell us one way or another. 

Boothroyd: Well, maybe we should cancel the test. 

Townsend: Absolutely not. There's a whole world of difference between theory and practice. We need to see this in action. 

Boothroyd: Professor Townsend, I think you're forgetting the reason why this unit was set up. Mr Tizard wants facts, not assumptions. He will not continue to support this project without your assurance that it will actually work. 

Townsend: And I think I've explained to you, I cannot give him that... yet. 

Boothroyd: Well, I hope for your sake that this test is a success. You're running out of time. We all are. 

He leaves.

Melton Road. Frank and Terry crouch down in the underbrush outside the research centre. Frank consults a photograph of the building.

Frank: Looks like a bit of a dump. 

Boothroyd leaves the building in front of them, and they duck down further. He goes over to get in his car.

Frank: Just as long as we get paid. We're doing all right out of this, and when the w*r ends, we're going to be well set up. 

Boothroyd's car drive away.

Terry: So what we gonna do this time? 

Frank: What do you think? 

He takes out a cigarette lighter and burns the photograph.

Foyle house. James eats a slice of bread and jam, ignoring the adults as they talk.

Lydia: There was just one b*mb. They say it was a thousand-pounder. I don't suppose the pilot knew he'd targeted a school. The teachers had heard the plane and they were leading the children down when they- when it h*t. 38 of them were k*lled. And six teachers. When I got there, it was... Well, you can imagine. Those tiny bodies. Some of them six years old. And nobody crying. Nobody screaming. Some of the older children were searching through the rubble, "Can I help, Miss?" James wasn't hurt. Not even a scratch. But he hasn't spoken since. He won't say anything. He's like this all the time. I'm not even sure he knows I'm there. 

Foyle: Does his father know? 

Lydia: I told him about the b*mb and that James wasn't hurt. That's all. Robert is a wonderful father. I wasn't wrong about him, you know, no matter what everyone said. 

Foyle: Why have you come here? 

Lydia: What? You want us to go?

Foyle: No, no, no. No, I didn't say that. I just, erm, well, we haven't seen each other for ten years, er, we haven't been in touch. Er, all of a sudden you're here and... 

Lydia: I'd nowhere else to go. Things have been rather difficult for me. I have a job. I'm, erm... I'm an OWL operator. You know, operator, wireless and line. It's with the Army and it's very important work and, well, having James like this, it makes it completely impossible. Well, the MO said maybe what he needed was a, a change of scenery, a bit of fresh air and when he mentioned the seaside, well, I thought of you. I, I thought, maybe if we could stay with you just, just for a few days, you know, maybe...? 

She falls silent. Foyle watches James.

Richards house. Michael Richards peers out of the window at Evelyn as she walks along with Hans, who is wheeling a bike.

Evelyn: Thank you for walking home with me, Hans. 

Hans: Good night. 

As she starts up the steps, Michael hurries away from the window. Hans wheels his bike away across the road.

Front room. Evelyn closes the door, and turns to see Michael, now standing casually leafing through a book.

Michael: Ah. You're home early. 

Evelyn: Well, yes. 

Michael: I haven't started the tea yet, erm... 

Evelyn: I'll do it. 

Michael: Oh, will you? Oh, no, no, no. That's my job. You sit down. You must be tired. Did you... walk home, erm, by yourself? 

Evelyn: No, Hans came with me. You were watching. 

Michael: Hans. And how is Hans? 

Evelyn: Please don't start this again, Michael. We do this all the time. Round and round in circles. 

Michael: You're the one in the circle. 

Evelyn: I'll make the tea. And why don't we go out this evening, the two of us? We can go to the pub. 

Michael: Don't patronise me, Evelyn. I'm already going out. I'm seeing some friends. 

He leaves the room.

Foyle house. Sam knocks on the door. James opens it.

Sam: Oh! Hello. I'm Sam. Is Mr Foyle in? I'm his driver. 

Lydia: James! Oh. I- I'm sorry. I, I, I didn't see him open the door. 

Sam: That's all right. I'll wait here. 

Lydia: All right. 

She heads back into the house.

Front room. Foyle gets his hat and coat.

Foyle: You going to be all right? 

Lydia: Oh, yes. I, er, I'm going to take him down to the sea. 

Foyle: Well, erm... get yourself some lunch. 

He hands her some money.

Foyle: Er, the British Restaurant is as good as any. 

Lydia: I do appreciate this. 

Foyle: See you this evening. 

He leaves.

Outside. Foyle and Sam walk round the corner to the car.

Sam: Isn't it absolutely wonderful what the Russians are doing, sir? Have you read the papers? Good old Uncle Joe, that's what I say. 

Foyle: Her name is Lydia. I'm her godfather. James is her son. 

Sam: Thank you. I wasn't gonna ask. 

Foyle: Well, of course you weren't. 

Sam: You haven't mentioned her before. 

Foyle: I haven't seen them for a very long time. I knew her parents. Er, her father was my commanding officer. They were both k*lled in the Blitz. 

Sam: Oh, I'm sorry. Well, what are you going to do with them? 

Foyle: I'm not at all sure, but if you'd keep quiet about this for the moment, I'd appreciate it. 

Sam: I'll keep mum. You know me. 

Foyle: Yeah...

They get into the car.

Foyle's office. Assistant Commissioner Henry Parkins paces around the room, waiting.

Police station reception area. Foyle enters and Sergeant Brooke calls out to him from behind the desk.

Brooke: Mr Foyle. Morning, sir. 

Foyle: Good morning. 

Brooke: I was expecting you half an hour ago, sir. 

Foyle: Yeah. 

Brooke: Er, Mr Parkins is here, sir. The new Assistant Commissioner. He arrived early so I, I put him in your office. 

Foyle: Thanks. 

He walks into the office and closes the door behind him.

Parkins: You must be Detective Chief Superintendent Foyle. 

Brooke: That's right. 

They shake hands.

Parkins: Not a good start, if I may say so. I don't like being kept waiting.

Foyle: Well, it's nine o'clock, sir. We were told to expect you at eleven. 

Parkins: No matter. I take it you received my letter. 

Foyle: I did. Erm, this is something about gambling, isn't it? 

Parkins: From the tone of your voice, I take it you don't consider it to be a matter of importance. Well, it is, I can assure you. In fact, I've received instructions at the very highest level. 

Foyle: Er, what instructions exactly? 

Parkins: To crack down, Foyle! Look, we've got these pontoon schools everywhere, not just in Pall Mall and Chelsea. Sometimes £10,000 changes hands in one night. They're in shipyards, factories, air-raid shelters, and some workers are losing a month's wages in one throw. Marked cards, impossible odds. What you're talking about here is nothing short of organised crime. 

Foyle: We do have a sergeant looking into it. 

Parkins: Just one man? 

Foyle: He's a very capable man. 

Parkins: I don't think it's good enough. 

Foyle: Perhaps you should wait to see the report. 

Parkins: I take it you're too busy to look into this matter yourself. 

Foyle: Well, I am as a matter of fact. 

Parkins: Anything you care to share with me? 

Foyle: Well, you're very welcome to see the file. 

He slides a file across the desk for Parkins to read.

Parkins: Sabotage? 

Foyle: That's right. 

Parkins: And? 

Foyle: Well, there's been a, a f*re at the munitions works. Another at, er, the docks. Telephone lines have been brought down and all by the same people, as far as we can see. 

Parkins: What makes you think that? 

Foyle: Just a feeling. 

Parkins: A g*ng of saboteurs working their way along the coast. That could be a serious business.

Foyle: Not quite as serious as the gambling perhaps but, erm... 

Parkins: I should warn you, Foyle. I've been told about you. You get results. You're a good worker. But you're also insubordinate. You seem to forget that you're part of a chain of command that stretches all the way back to London. Well, I'm here to remind you that you're not indispensable. 

Foyle: Well, I'm very pleased to hear it. 

Parkins: I shall be here for a week. I shall be visiting other stations. I've booked in at the Regency Hotel. May I borrow your driver? 

Foyle: Er, please do. 

Parkins leaves and walks through to the reception area.

Brooke (offscreen): It was a UXB. Scared the life out of him, he choked on a chicken bone. 

Sam: I've not seen one.

Parkins: I need Mr Foyle's driver to take me to the Regency Hotel. Where is he? 

Sam: Oh, that's me, sir. 

Parkins: What? 

Sam: I'm Mr Foyle's driver. 

Parkins: But that's not a police uniform. 

Sam: Well, no. I was, erm, transferred from the MTC. I know it's irregular but what with the w*r and everything, there was no one else. 

Parkins: It's more than irregular. A transfer from the MTC? That's unheard of. How long has this been going on for? 

Sam: About three years. I don't mind, really! 

Parkins: It's not you I'm thinking of. It's police procedure. 

Brooke: Would you rather walk, sir? 

Parkins: I'd thank you not to be insolent, Sergeant. How far is it? 

Sam: About half an hour. Uphill. 

Parkins: Where's the car? 

Sam: This way, sir. 

She leads him out.

Milner's office. He's going through the filing cabinet as Foyle walks past the door.

Foyle: Any luck? 

Milner: Oh, yes, sir. I've managed to join a game tonight. 

Foyle: Where's that? 

Milner: Er, they're meeting at a warehouse. 

Foyle: They? 

Milner: No names yet, but they're a London-based g*ng. They run games in the docks. 

Foyle: What sort of games? 

Milner: Dice. Crown and Anchor. Looks fair enough on the face of it but as soon as you start betting on doubles and triples, the odds are stacked against you. 

Foyle: Need any help? 

Milner: Er, I don't think so, sir. I'll get some names and then I'll make the arrest. 

Foyle: Right. 

Milner: And get the Assistant Commissioner off your back. 

Foyle: Thank you. 

Beach. Townsend looks out over the water through binoculars. Boothroyd stands beside him, while another man is filming the events on a camera.

Townsend: Here it comes. 

A plane flies low over the water and drops and expl*sive.

Boothroyd: What happened? 

Townsend lowers his binoculars.

Boothroyd: I didn't see. What happened? 

Townsend just turns and walks back to his car.

Warehouse, north wharf, night.

Hendry (voiceover): Come on, gentlemen, come on. Money down.

Inside, a group of men stand around the dice table.

Hendry: All right. Come on, then, last throw of the evening, I'm in a generous mood. 

Michael Richards is in the crowd.

Hendry: I'm offering 4-1 on triples. 3-1 on doubles. Evens all the rest. 

The Morgan brothers are there too. Hendry's associates Howarth and Riley stand by watching.

Frank: Three crowns. Here's a quid. 

Milner stands in the background, watching.

Man: Doubles on hearts. 

Man 2: Diamonds the same. 

Michael hurriedly approaches Hendry.

Michael: Will you take an IOU? 

Henry: Mr Richards, unless I'm very much mistaken you're already... 

Howarth: 30 bob.

Henry: 30 shillings down. 

Michael: Come on, Hendry, you know I'm good for it. 

Hendry: What you betting? 

Michael: Five bob on spades. 

Hendry: All right. Put him down. 

Frank: What's all this chat about? Get on with it. 

Hendry: Young man in an 'urry, eh? All right. Any more bets? 

Men: We're out.

Milner shakes his head. Henry rolls the dice and there are disappointed groans.

Hendry: Three anchors but no takers. Pay out on one heart, one crown and one club. And, gentlemen, that is the last throw of the evening. Thank you very much. 

Frank: Look, wait a minute. One more throw. 

Hendry: You've lost enough. 

Frank: No, I've got plenty of money. I'll put two nicker on crowns. 

Terry: Frank. 

Henry: Three crowns? 

Terry stands up.

Terry: Let's go, Frank. 

Hendry: This is just for you. 

Hendry rolls the dice and there are groans.

Hendry: And this-

People pat Frank on the back.

Man: Oh, bad luck, mate. Bad luck.

Hendry: Is just for me. 

He scoops up the money. Michael Richards goes to leave, but is blocked by Riley.

Riley: That's 35 shillings, Mr Richards. 

Michael: Yes, of course. Erm, Well, I'll, I'll make it up to you. I just need a bit of time. 

Riley: How much time? 

Michael: Riley, let him go. 

Henry: Mr Richards, you've got 24 hours. Then we come calling. 

Milner: Mr Hendry? I was wondering, when can I get another game? 

Hendry: I don't think I know you. 

Milner: No. Paul Milner. 

Hendry: I ain't seen you here before. 

Milner: Well, I haven't been here long. You from the Smoke? 

Hendry: Why d'you want to know? 

Milner: No reason. 

Hendry: I didn't see you put too much money on the table. 

Milner: Oh, well this was just a warm-up. 

Hendry: Pretty lukewarm, you ask me. 

Milner: You be here tomorrow night? 

Hendry: Maybe. 

Milner: All right. I'll see you, then. 

Hendry: Sure. 

As Milner leaves, Hendry jerks his head for Riley to follow him.

Outside. As Milner walks along, Howarth and Riley emerge from the warehouse behind him.

Terry (offscreen): So, how much did we lose? 

He's sitting on a wall nearby while Frank counts their money.

Frank: I don't know how they do it. Every bloody time. 

Riley: Oi, copper. Oi! 

Milner looks round, laughing a little.

Milner: Are you talking to me? 

Howarth: You think we can't see through you? Asking questions. Sniffing around. We can smell you. 

Riley pushes Milner.

Milner: Hey! You've made a mistake.

Riley grabs him by the front of his coat.

Riley: Yeah? It's you who's made a mistake. Come on.

He holds Milner back as Howarth punches him in the gut.

Riley: And again!

Terry jumps down from the wall.

Terry: Frank. 

Riley: Get him! 

Howarth is still punching Milner. The Morgan brothers run over.

Riley: And again!

Milner falls to the ground.

Frank: Hey, what are you doing? 

Riley: You get away from here, you nancies. It's none of your business. 

Frank: Yeah? 

The two boys grab Howarth and pull him away from Milner. They start wrestling with the two men. Milner gets up.

Terry: Come on! h*t him! 

Milner joins the fight and the two men run off.

Frank: Yeah, you bloody cowards! 

Milner: Thanks. 

Frank: Hey, don't mention it, mate. Come on, Terry. 

Milner: Hey, wait! 

Milner stands clutching his head as the two boys leave.

Foyle house. Foyle is at the table having tea. Lydia comes through from the hall carrying some bundled sheets.

Foyle: Oh, morning. 

Lydia: Sorry. James has wet the bed. He, he does it quite often. 

Foyle stands up.

Foyle: Oh, right. Well, um, is he all right? 

Lydia: Oh, yes, he's fine. 

Foyle: Yeah.

Lydia: Shall I just take them through? 

Foyle: Yes, er, put them in there. 

She takes the sheets through into the next room. Foyle sighs. She comes back in.

Foyle: Erm, breakfast? 

Lydia: Erm, not just yet, thanks. 

Foyle: Listen, not really any of my business but, erm, it seems to me perhaps you should be thinking about getting some help. 

Lydia: For me? 

Foyle: No, no, for James. 

Lydia: Well, what help is there? I've been to doctors, and they- well, they all say the same. He's still in shock because of what happened with the b*mb. I'm hoping being here will help. Erm, how long can we stay here? 

Foyle: Well, how long were you thinking of? 

Lydia: Oh, I don't know. I've got nothing to get back to in London. It wasn't my fault, you know. I fell in love. Daddy didn't want to see me again. After James was born, it was as if I didn't exist. 

Foyle: Well, I don't know. I wasn't there but, erm, I was with your father in very difficult circumstances and the man you're describing is, er, frankly, nothing to do with the man I knew. 

Lydia: Well, it's as you say. You weren't there. He hurt me. Well, you all did. I was in love and I chose a life for myself with Robert. You didn't even try to understand. 

Foyle: I wrote to you. 

Lydia: Did you? 

Foyle: You didn't get the letter I wrote to you? 

Lydia: No. 

There's a knock at the door.

Lydia: It's your driver. 

Foyle: Yes. Erm, well, listen. These people, erm, might be able to help. 

He writes something down on a piece of paper and hands it to her.

Foyle: Try them. 

Lydia: Melanie Klein and Anna Freud? 

Foyle: Yeah, they've, they've been very helpful for, for some children. 

Lydia: They're Germans? 

Foyle: Erm, Jewish refugees, I believe. 

Lydia: You do realise if I wasn't here, James would have no one. 

Foyle: There's his father. 

Lydia: He had a father. A wonderful father. But, erm, I haven't heard from Robert in a long while and who knows where he is right now? 

Foyle leaves.

Richards house. Michael is flicking through a book with a pen. Evelyn walks by.

Evelyn: I'll see you, then. I've done the washing up and your lunch is in the pantry. 

Michael: Thank you. 

Evelyn: I- I may be home late. 

Michael: Oh, really? 

Evelyn: It's a big day. There was a test last night. 

Michael: A test? 

Evelyn: Don't ask me to talk about it, Michael. You know I can't. 

Michael: Whatever made you think I was going to ask you about it? It's nothing to do with me. 

Evelyn: So how much did you lose last night? 

Michael: What? 

Evelyn: I take it that's where you were. What was it? Chuck-a-luck? Pontoon? How much? 

Michael: A few bob. I've got to have something to do with my time. 

Evelyn: Well, don't go looking in my purse. There's nothing there. You've gone through the housekeeping. 

Michael: I've got my own money. 

Evelyn: You got through that weeks ago. Even the local shop won't take our credit. 

Michael: Well, that's all right for you, isn't it? What with your cushy little number. "Working late..."

Evelyn: What's that meant to mean? 

Michael: You think I don't know what's going on? You think I'm just going to stand here and put up with it? 

Evelyn: What are you going to do, Michael? Are you going to be cruel to me? Are you going to start drinking? Are you going to hurt me? You've done it all already. I won't even notice. 

She walks out and he throws his book to the ground in frustration.

Milner's office. Sam is dabbing at his head injury.

Sam: Hold still. 

He hisses.

Sam: Sorry. Does it hurt anywhere else? 

Milner: Everywhere. 

Sam: You should have had somebody else with you. 

Milner: Sam... 

Sam: Well, it could have been a lot worse. 

Foyle walks in.

Foyle: Are you all right? 

Milner: Yes, sir, thank you. 

Sam: First aid training in the MTC. I always knew it would come in handy. 

Foyle: Are they, er, likely to be back? 

Milner: I doubt it. My guess is they'll move the game further down the coast. 

Foyle: Well, that's a result of a sort. 

Milner: Not the one the Assistant Commissioner wanted. 

Sam: Is it my imagination, sir, or is the new Assistant Commissioner even worse than the old one? 

Foyle: That's enough, thank you. 

Milner: Sir? 

Foyle: Yep. 

Milner: The two lads that helped me, Terry and Frank, I'd say they're brothers. The eldest couldn't have been more than eighteen, but they had plenty of cash and they were throwing it away. 

Foyle: Wealthy family? 

Milner: No, I don't think so. They didn't seem the sort. 

Foyle: Know where to find them? 

Milner: No, I don't but I'd like to have a go. 

Foyle: Do. 

He leaves.

Sam: If it hadn't been for them, who knows what would have happened? 

Milner: Well, if I find them, I'll thank them. 

Beach. Lydia sits on the wooden breakwater as James throws stones into the sea.

Lydia: Maybe if we're lucky, we'll see a destroyer or a Spitfire. Hey? You'd like that, wouldn't you? 

James just keeps throwing stones.

Lydia: James, you've got to talk to me. You've got to talk to Mummy, because if you don't tell me what you're thinking, how can I help you? I'm so sorry. God, I have tried so hard. And it's all gone wrong, hasn't it? But I'm gonna make it better for you. That's all that matters. And one day, you'll understand. James? Huh? I'm doing it for you. That's all you need to know. 

De Perez house. Frank stands before De Perez in a vast lounge full of paintings. De Perez has a briefcase in front of him.

De Perez: You have located the building? 

Frank: Yeah. What do they do there? 

De Perez: Nothing of great consequence, my friend. You are concerned? 

Frank: This stuff we're doing for you... 

De Perez: It is, I am sure, preferable to many years with hard labour. 

Frank: We don't wanna do it any more. 

De Perez: Hmm, it is a little too late for that now. I have told you, Frank, I am a pacifist. I wish harm to no one. What I am doing only is to show that the w*r is wrong. 

Frank: Yeah, but it's not you doing it. It's Terry and me. 

De Perez: And you are being well paid for it. This time I will pay you double. It is only because I am pleased with the work you have done. 

He holds out some money, and after a moment Frank takes it.

Frank: Another f*re? 

De Perez: No. This time I have something more dramatic in mind. 

He opens the case.

De Perez: It is very safe and simple to use. 

He attaches a wire to the mechanism of a b*mb.

Research centre. Townsend and Hans stand in front of a blackboard.

Townsend: Now on the face of it, the test was a complete fiasco. The wooden cladding shattered on impact. 

Evelyn walks up with a file.

Hans: As we predicted. 

Townsend: Yes, well, we don't gain any points for nay-saying, Hans. 

Evelyn: But the steel core held. 

Townsend: Yes!

Hans: Were they using our figures? 

Evelyn: The back spin was 500 revs per minute. The package was dropped from 60 feet at 240 miles per hour. 

Hans: But then it works. 

Townsend: It works. Tizard has persuaded the RAF to move ahead with a full-scale operational version. 

Hans: That's wonderful! 

Townsend: Yes, but we're going to have to go over everything again. I mean, the pilots are going to have to go in so low that it's almost suicidal anyway. Plus the fact that they'll have almost 6,000 pounds of high expl*sive spinning in the middle of their fuselage. Now, let's make sure that they don't blow up before they arrive. 

Foyle house. Guest bedroom. James sits on the bed reading a comic. Lydia brings in a tray of food.

Lydia: I brought you some lunch, darling. It's a Spam sandwich and a glass of milk. 

She sets it down on the nightstand. There's no response from James. She sits down on the bed.

Lydia: I have to go away for a little while. 

She kisses him on the forehead.

Lydia: You're to wait here for your Uncle Christopher to come home. 

She leaves. There's still no response from James.

Street. Lydia hurries along, carrying an envelope. She drops into a postbox and then turns to walk back.

Richards house. Michael Richards is teaching a small group of schoolboys from a blackboard set up in the front room.

Michael: We know AB and CD are parallel. So, what can anyone tell me about this angle here at AEF? 

One of the boys, Nicholas, raises a hand.

Michael: Yes, Nicholas? 

Nicholas: It's the same as EFD? 

Michael: Spot on. 

He steps back and looks at drawing one of the boys is snickering over.

Michael: Is that meant to be me? Not very flattering, is it? Come on, concentrate. Yes, so if EFD is 45 degrees and we know that the total has to add up to a 180 degrees, therefore, this angle here is... 

Nicholas raises his hand again.

Michael: Yes, Nicholas? 

Nicholas: 45 degrees. 

Michael: 45 degrees, well done, well done. 

Later. Michael opens the front door to find Milner on the doorstep.

Milner: Mr Richards? 

Michael: Yes. 

The boys start filing out past him.

Boy: I want to play football. 

Milner: Er, I wonder if I might have a word? 

Nicholas: Bye, sir.

Boy: Bye, sir. 

Michael: Er, do I know who you are? 

Boy: Bye!

Michael: Bye-bye, see you Tuesday. 

Milner shows his warrant card as he enters.

Milner: I was there last night. 

Michael closes the door behind him. Milner spots the blackboard.

Milner: Geometry? Not my strong suit. 

Michael: I used to be at St Edmund's. It's a rescue party depot now. Requisitioned in '41. 

Milner: Yes, I know it.

Michael: St Jude's is an ambulance station. And Mill Road closed down as a short-term rest centre and never opened again. They say that truth is the first casualty of w*r but it isn't, you know. Education is. 

Milner: You take classes here?

Michael: I do what I can. I was teaching when the w*r began. 20,000 teachers went into the forces. I sometimes think it won't matter who wins. Either way we'll have a whole generation who won't know a thing. You were at the game. I remember you now. Have you come to arrest me for taking part? 

Milner: No, that's not why I'm here. 

Michael: Well, how can I help you? 

Milner: I'm looking for two lads that were at the game. You might have noticed them. They were about eighteen. Plenty of cash. 

Michael: I noticed them. They were hard to miss. They were losing more than I did. 

Milner: Well, their first names are Frank and Terry. Do you know anything more about them? 

Michael: Well, I don't know their surnames. I find these dice games aren't exactly sociable. 

Milner: True. Do you know where I might find them? 

Michael: Would you like to tell me why? 

Milner pauses as he spots Riley and Howarth outside the window, looking in from across the street.

Milner: You expecting visitors? 

Michael: No. Lessons are over for the day. 

The two men move away.

Milner: So, Frank and Terry...

Michael: Well, I don't know where they live. I, I don't know anything much about them. They were young. They have money. I'd seen them a few times. That's it. 

Milner: Mr Richards, can I give you some advice? Stay away from any further games. 

Michael: Oh, and why is that? 

Milner: Well, I've just seen two of Hendry's men outside. And, as you say, I can't imagine they were here to be sociable. If you owe them money, they will make you pay, one way or another. 

He leaves.

Later. Michael takes a bottle of spirits from a drawer and drinks directly from the bottle.

Foyle house. Sam and Foyle drive up and park outside and Foyle gets out.

Foyle: Good night. 

Sam: Night, sir. Ooh. I wondered if you'd noticed that The Wizard of Oz is playing at the Palais, sir? 

Foyle: I can't say I have. 

Sam: I was just thinking... 

Foyle: Right. Thank you. 

Inside. Foyle walks through into the front room.

Foyle: Lydia? 

James's room. Foyle enters and finds James lying on the bed reading his comic.

Foyle: Where's your mother? 

James looks up at his voice, then goes back to his comic. After a moment Foyle turns and leaves.

Melton Road, night. An old man, George Woodridge, is walking his dog past the research centre building.

Woodridge: Hold on. 

There's the sound of a g*n from inside the building. He turns to look at the door, then hurries on.

Woodridge: Come on, come on.

Police station. Woodbridge is talking to Brooke at the front desk.

Woodridge: A single sh*t. I heard it clear as day. It came from the inside. 

Brooke: And this is on the Melton Road? 

Woodridge: Yeah, that place there. It used to be a supply dump or something. I think it's an office now. 

Brooke yawns.

Brooke: And what time was this, sir? 

Woodridge: Oh, only half an hour ago. I came straight here. 

Brooke: Well, thank you, sir. I'll make a report. 

Woodridge: Is that all? 

Brooke: Well, I haven't got any men here. I shouldn't be here myself except the night officer's off sick, so...

Woodridge: Well, you can't have people sh**ting each other in the middle of the night. It's not right. 

Brooke: No, sir. Erm, where can we find you if we need to ask any more questions? 

Woodridge: Oh, I have a shop on the parade. You'll see my name. 

Brooke: Thank you, Mr Woodridge. We'll look into it. 

Beach hut, night.

Terry (voiceover): No, Frank. 

Frank (voiceover): Terry! 

The two of them sit inside with the suitcase b*mb open between them.

Terry: I said no. 

Frank: Why not? 

Terry: Cutting wires and setting f*re to stuff is one thing. But this is different. This is a b*mb! 

Frank: I know what it is. 

Terry: Just tell him we've had enough. 

Frank: Look, I can't. He'll turn us in. 

Terry: Then let him. He's a bloody dago, for God's sake. What we're doing, it could be treason. 

Frank: He's Spanish. They're not in the w*r. They're nothing to do with it. 

Terry: No. 

Frank: Look, if we don't do what he says, he'll come after us. He's got friends. They'll find us. They'll k*ll us, Terry. 

Terry: It's not that. You don't believe that. You just want the money. 

Frank: Listen. We'll make this the last one. We'll just do this and then we'll tell him we've got to stop. 

Melton Road. Townsend hurries back to the building in the dark. He opens the door and heads inside.

outside. Frank and Terry are coming along the road with the suitcase. They saw the door open.

Terry: Get down. 

They hide behind the bushes and watch as Hans and Townsend carry out what looks like a body in a blanket.

Terry: What is it? 

Frank: Shh! 

Frank gets up to move closer.

Terry: Wait. What are they doing? 

Terry: Come on, Terry. We'll follow them. 

Foyle house. Sam drives up and stops outside. She heads up the steps, but Foyle opens the door before she gets there.

Foyle: Sam. 

Sam: Sir. 

Foyle: Would you mind coming in a moment, please? 

Upstairs. James is sitting on his bed half-heartedly playing with a ball.

Downstairs. Foyle follows Sam into the front room.

Foyle: Look, erm, she's gone. 

Sam: Gone, sir? 

Foyle: Yes. 

Sam: Lydia? 

Foyle: Yes. 

Sam: With James? 

Foyle: No, he's upstairs. 

Sam: Well, that's rather strange. D'you think she's in trouble? 

Foyle: Possible. Always was a bit wayward. Fell in love with an insurance salesman, and to cut a long story short they eloped. 

Sam: And the parents are d*ad now. Did they ever forgive her? 

Foyle: Well, not a case of forgiveness. Erm, some reason or another, they never saw her again. Neither did I until she showed up here. 

Sam: Where's James's father? 

Foyle: North Africa, evidently, according to her. 

Sam: He doesn't talk very much, does he? 

Foyle: Well, not least because he was at the, er, the Sibford Street School. 

Sam: The school that was... Oh, poor little boy. Well, sir, if you want me to look after him while you're looking for Lydia, I'm more than happy to. 

Foyle: Thank you. 

Sam: Make a nice change from hanging around outside m*rder. 

Foyle: Listen, erm, get him some, er, tea, cake, that sort of thing. 

He puts some money down on a side table.

Sam: There's a toy shop on the parade. 

Foyle: Good, good. 

He moves to leave.

Sam: Oh, I wonder if he's seen The Wizard of Oz. 

Police station. Milner walks into the reception area.

Brooke: Sergeant Milner. Wonder if you'd like to look into this? 

He hands Milner a file.

Brooke: sh*t was heard on the Melton Road. An elderly gentleman came in last night. 

Milner: Where's Mr Foyle? 

Brooke: He's, er, he's not in yet. It's the second time he's been late this week. 

Milner: I wouldn't have said that was any of your business, sergeant. 

Brooke: I was just making an observation, sergeant. 

Milner turns as Foyle arrives.

Milner: Morning, sir. Someone heard a g*n last night, I thought I'd look into it. 

Foyle: Do. 

He walks around behind the desk.

Foyle: Need to get a search organised for a 28-year-old woman, name of Lydia Nicholson, or she might be using Lydia Wallace. 

Brooke: What's she done, sir? 

Foyle: Nothing apart from going missing. Er, she's from Clapton. 

Brooke: Ah, that's my old stamping ground. 

Foyle: Er, she could well have gone back there. Get a description put in the coach and the railway stations, erm, using this photograph. 

He hands Brooke a picture of Lydia.

Brooke: She's very attractive. 

Foyle: Yeah. 

He turns to leave.

Research centre. Milner is talking with Townsend while Hans watches.

Townsend: A g*n? What time would this have been? 

Milner: About nine o'clock. 

Townsend: Can't help you, I'm afraid. I left at six. Hans? 

Hans: Ten minutes after you, professor. 

Milner: And you are...? 

Hans: Oh, Hans Lindemann. 

He goes over to shake hands with Milner.

Milner: And in case you're wondering, I'm Danish. 

Townsend: Hans was studying under me at Cambridge when the Germans inv*de Denmark. 

Hans: And I decided to stay. 

Milner: And were there just the two of you here last night? 

Townsend: No, I, I have a secretarial assistant. Evelyn Richards. Er, you've just missed her, I'm afraid. I sent her home. 

Milner: What sort of work do you do here, Professor? 

Townsend: Oh, we're a branch of the National Physical Laboratory at Teddington, but we report to the Admiralty in London. Can't tell you any more, I'm afraid. Our work is classified. 

Milner: All right. And yet you have no security, no Home Guard?

Townsend: Oh, we keep a, a low profile, Mr Milner. Nobody really knows we're here, so that's all the security we need. 

Milner: And there was no sign of any disturbance this morning when you arrived? 

Townsend: No, absolutely not. Everything was as normal. Look, I, I know nothing about this g*n but I, I can assure you it didn't happen here. 

Hans: Maybe somewhere nearby. 

Milner: Thank you. Er, we'll have a look. 

Townsend: Oh, I- can I just ask, Mr Milner, who is your superior officer? 

Milner: Of course. It's Detective Chief Superintendent Foyle. 

Townsend: Ah. Yes, I thought it might be. I know him well. Please give him my regards. 

Milner nods to the two of them and leaves the building. He speaks to a group of uniformed officers outside.

Milner: Right, let's take a look around. Search the woods and the side of the road. Two of you have a look round the back of the building. 

Policeman: Yes, sir.

Policeman 2: Sir.

Woods. The police are searching. One of them points.

Policeman: What's that? Over there! Get Sergeant Milner. 

They hurry over to a body partly concealed under the leaves. It's Michael Richards.

Foyle house. Sam and James sit on the sofa, Sam reading aloud to him from his comic, putting on voices.

Sam: I'll drop this expl*sive egg on h*tler's palace. That night over Germany... Look, Goering. I'm sick of this. Half a sausage between us? My patience is exhausted. Bring me an egg! Now where shall I put it? Ha, I'll take that fine big egg for Adolf's breakfast. Ach, what a fine big egg, at last I will have the good breakfast. 

She looks at James.

Sam: Oh. You're not really enjoying this, are you? How about a puzzle? I've an old blackout book here. We could try that. 

James turns away from her.

Woods. Foyle and Milner walk through the trees.

Foyle: Do we know who he is? 

Milner: Well, he had no wallet on him, no identity card, no ration book, but as a matter of fact I do, sir. 

A pair of stretcher-bearers arrive to pick up the body.

Milner: I spoke to him yesterday at his house. His name is Michael Richards. He was at the dice game. He lost a fair amount of money. He may well be in debt because two of Hendry's men paid him a visit while I was there. They saw me and walked off. Looks like I might have to go after Hendry after all. There's a Professor Townsend here at the Research Centre. Says he knows you. 

Foyle: Townsend. Mmm, that's right. 

Milner: He also said that he has a secretarial assistant called Richards. 

Foyle: Did he? Well, if he was sh*t because he owed money, why here, do you think? 

He nods to the stretcher-bearers and they bend down take the body away.

Foyle: Okay. Dressed up for something. 

Milner: He's a lot smarter than the last time I saw him. 

Research centre. Foyle and Milner are there with Townshend and Hans.

Townshend: Foyle, I, I can't believe we're meeting under such circumstances. 

Foyle: That's right. 

Townshend: Michael Richards. This man with the dog, he, he must have been mistaken. I mean, Mr Richards may have been k*lled nearby but it certainly wasn't in here. 

Foyle: Right. And, er, who would have been first here this morning? 

Han: I was. I came at seven o'clock. 

Foyle: Oh, right. Come far? 

Han: Mmm. Bexhill. I have a room there. 

Foyle: Uh-huh. 

Hans: Everything was just the way you see it now. 

Foyle: Right. 

Townshend: Somebody should talk to Evelyn. She, she needs to be told. 

Foyle: And, er, how long has she been here? 

Townshend: Two years. An invaluable member of staff. Very efficient, I mean. Accurate. Discreet. 

Street, Hastings. Foyle and Milner are walking along together.

Milner: How do you know Professor Townsend, sir? 

Foyle: He's a neighbour. 

Milner: He said he was attached to the Admiralty. Involved in something hush-hush. 

Foyle: Wouldn't surprise me. He, er, taught physics at Cambridge. Highly regarded, published several books. 

Milner: Wonder why he was lying to us. 

Foyle: Same reason everybody else does. 

Richards house. Foyle and Milner are there with Evelyn.

Evelyn: I don't know where to begin. There's not much to tell. I, I went to bed early. I was so tired. I've been working very hard recently. Michael wasn't in the house when I got in. I thought I heard him come in later, but obviously I was wrong. Er, we sleep in separate rooms. I might as well be straight with you. Things haven't been very easy between us for some time. Michael resented my going to work. He lost his own job when they closed St Edmund's. 

Milner: He gave lessons here, didn't he? 

Evelyn: Yes, home-school. 

Foyle notices a physics book with Townsend's name on the cover on the desk.

Foyle: Townsend. Is this yours? 

Evelyn: No, it's my husband's. I, I just type and keep files. Michael understood more about Professor Townsend's work than I ever did. It was the main reason for the tension between us. I was there, and he was here. 

Foyle: So would this be...? 

Evelyn: This is his desk. I, I, I can't see why you're asking all these questions, Mr Foyle. I know perfectly well who k*lled my husband. He was a compulsive gambler. He had fallen in with a bad lot and he owed them money. He used to steal from the housekeeping and from my purse. I, I know he was afraid of them. 

Foyle: And, erm, why would he have gone to the research centre last night? 

Evelyn: I've no idea. 

Foyle: But you didn't, erm, you didn't part on very good terms? 

Evelyn: No. I suppose I'll have to live with that. But he wasn't the man I married. 

She picks up a photo from the desk of Michael in a graduation gown.

Evelyn: This was the man I married. He was young. An idealist. He loved his work and he had a career. But the w*r changed all that. And the man who was k*lled, the man you're telling me about, in the end I hardly knew him. 

Foyle house. Sam lays out square of playing cards on the carpet.

Sam: All right, then. Here's another one. It's called A New Deal for n*zi.

James is sitting on an armchair nearby, but he's not watching.

Sam: And what you have to do is put four cards to form a swastika inside the frame. Now, I don't think that's possible, do you? 

There's the sound of the door closing. Sam looks up as Foyle walks in.

Sam: Oh, hello, sir. 

Foyle: How's everything? 

Sam: All present and correct. Mmm. We haven't made much progress, I'm afraid. I don't suppose there's any news of... 

Foyle: No. Erm, you'd better get home. 

Sam stands up.

Sam: Right. I thought I'd take James out for a picnic in Taybury Woods tomorrow. I baked a cake. Powdered eggs. 

Foyle: That's very kind. 

Sam: All right, then, James. I'll see you tomorrow. TTFN. 

Foyle: Thank you. 

She nods and leaves.

Beach hut. Frank takes an identity card out of a wallet.

Frank: Michael Richards? I remember who he is now. I knew I'd seen him before. 

Terry comes over and takes the card from him to look at.

Terry: Who is he? 

Frank snatches it back.

Frank: He was that geezer from the game. Kept on losing. 

Terry: You were the one who kept on losing. 

Frank: Yeah, but he couldn't afford it. That's who he is. 

Terry: That's who he was.

Frank: Well, yeah. Look, I'd, I'd say there's money to be made out of this, Terry. Er, if we're smart. 

Terry: What you talking about? 

Frank: Well, we saw what we saw, didn't we in the woods? 

Terry: Yeah. 

Frank: Yeah, well, I reckon they'd pay us plenty to keep our mouths shut. 

Terry: So what about the dago? 

Frank: He's never here. He's in London. We'll make the money and vamoose. He'll never find us. 

Terry: Yeah, and what about this? 

He opens the suitcase with the b*mb.

Frank: We'll get rid of it. 

Terry: How? Dump it in the sea? 

Frank: I'm not going in no boat with it. Rough seas and all the rest. No. We'll blow it up. 

Terry: Where? 

Frank: Taybury Wood. Tomorrow. And then we'll go and see the boffin and see what he has to say. 

An isolated stretch of stony beach.

Lydia (voiceover): God, I've tried so hard. It's all gone wrong, hasn't it? But I'm gonna make it better for you. 

Lydia is lying unmoving among the stones.

Lydia (voiceover): That's all that matters. And one day you'll understand. 

Police station front desk. Sam is dealing out the cards to show Brooke the card puzzle.

Brooke (offscreen): Four cards? 

Sam: That's right. Inside the frame to form a swastika. 

Brooke: Can they overlap? 

Sam: I don't know, Brookie. It doesn't say. 

Brooke: That doesn't seem doable to me. Where did this come from? 

Sam: The Brighter Blackout Book. 

Brooke: Let's have a look. Okay...

He makes an attempt at arranging the cards.

Brooke: No. Don't see it. 

Foyle walks in through the doors opposite.

Sam: Neither do I. I was up all night thinking about it. Hardly got a wink of sleep. 

Brooke: Aren't the answers in the back? 

Sam: Well, they should be, but it's missing a page. 

Foyle walks through into the back with James.

Foyle: Morning. 

Sam: Morning, sir. 

Foyle: What's going on? 

Sam: It's a puzzle. 

Brooke: Miss Stewart was just showing it to me, sir. 

Foyle: Solved it? 

Brooke: We're working on it. 

Foyle: Mm-hmm. 

Sam: Can I go, sir? 

Foyle: Yep, here he is. 

Sam: Ready? 

She puts an arm round James's shoulders and leads him out.

Sam: Now, young man. I hope you like very slightly burnt walnut cake.

Foyle: Have a good time. 

He turns to Brooke.

Foyle: Any news? 

Brooke: Oh, er, nothing so far, sir. I had her description circulated at the coach and the train station. I've been onto the Home Guard. Er, we did manage to find an address for her in Clapton but there's no one there. 

Foyle: Keep trying. 

Brooke: Sir. 

Foyle's office. Milner opens the door and walks in.

Milner: Morning, sir. Good news. 

Foyle: What's that? 

Milner: Just had a tip-off about a dice game being played at over Hythe. Don't know if it's Hendry but it's the same game. 

Foyle: When? 

Milner: Er, lunchtime. 

Foyle: You gonna take anybody with you this time? 

Milner: Er, yes, sir. 

Foyle: What a good idea. 

Milner leaves. Foyle starts reading a handwritten letter.

Lydia (voiceover): Dear Uncle Christopher, everything has been so difficult for me for so long and I've often wondered how I can carry on. Please forgive me writing to you like this but I can't take James with me so I have decided to leave him with the one person I can trust, someone who has always been kind to me and who will understand what it is that I have to do. 

Foyle closes his eyes.

Underpass. A group of kids are kicking a ball around a bridge.

Boy: Goal! 

Boy: Oh, come on.

Nicholas: Are you really a 'tec? 

He's walking along a pipe that runs under the bridge, talking to Milner.

Milner: Yes, I am. 

Nicholas: Can I see your warrant card? 

Milner hands it to him. He peers at him.

Nicholas: Hmm.  

He hands it back.

Nicholas: How did you find me here? 

Milner: Your mother told me where you were. 

Nicholas: Oh. I thought it would be something more clever than that. 

Milner: Oh, sorry to disappoint you. 

Nicholas: Are you investigating Mr Richards? 

Milner: Yes, that's right. 

Nicholas: He was sh*t by gangsters. Everyone knows that. 

Milner: You were having a lesson with him, weren't you, when I came to see him? 

Nicholas: Yes. Geometry. 

Milner: So, how was he? 

Nicholas: Mr Richards? 

Milner: Mmm. Was he nervous? 

Nicholas: No. He was usually grumpy but he was all right. He had a phone call. 

Milner: During the lesson? 

Nicholas: Yes. It cheered him up. He was tickety-boo after that. 

Milner: Right. 

Nicholas: Maybe it was the K*llers. They tricked him into going to a meeting and then they done him in. 

Milner: You've been reading too much Sexton Blake. 

Nicholas: I prefer Just William. 

Milner: Do you play here a lot? 

Nicholas: Most days. We found a piece of shrapnel once. I hope the w*r never ends! 

Boy: Come on! Come on!

Nicholas: Yep! 

Boy: Yippee!

Nicholas goes to join the ball game as Milner leaves.

Police station. Foyle walks through to speak to Brooke behind the front desk.

Foyle: Listen, this search. You'd better start checking the local hospitals, call the coastguard. See if they found anybody over the, um- 

Brooke: You don't think she... 

Foyle: It's worth checking. 

Brooke: Sir. 

Foyle: Thank you. 

Brooke picks up the phone.

Back street. Townshend is walking along with Foyle.

Townshend: I feel rather awkward coming to you, but I felt I should. 

Foyle: Why's that? 

Townshend: It's Michael Richards. 

Foyle: Yeah?

Townshend: It's just that what's happened couldn't have come at a worse time as far as we're concerned. 

Foyle: Well, probably not a very good one for him either, I wouldn't have thought. 

Townshend: No, of course not. It's just that there are things happening that I can't explain to you. I'm not allowed to. But, erm, as you and I have met on several occasions, I... I thought you might understand.

Foyle: Understand what? 

Townshend: Well, that my team and I are on the brink of something momentous. I'm not exaggerating when I say that it could change the course of the w*r. 

Foyle: The team being? 

Townshend: Myself and Hans Lindemann, I mean. 

Foyle: Mrs Richards? 

Townshend: Well, she's part of it, yes. 

Foyle: So, er, you're saying what? 

Townshend: Well, a lot of awkward questions are the last thing that we need just now. Michael Richards was an alcoholic. He was a violent, unattractive man. 

Foyle: Unintelligent? 

Townshend: Yes. 

Foyle: Great reader of your books, evidently, according to her. 

Townshend: Look, I've come to tell you that his death, in the proximity of where I am working, well, it cannot be allowed to get in the way of what's happening.

Foyle: Well, looks as if it already has, you know. 

He walks on.

Shopping parade. Sam leads James to the window of Mr Woodridge's toy shop.

Sam: Now, do you see anything you like, James? Shall we go inside? 

They walk in.

Later.

Woodridge: How about a model plane? I could sell you a kit for four shillings or a made-up one for eight shillings and ninepence. 

Sam: Actually, we were looking for something less about the w*r. 

James is looking at some toy soldiers in a glass case while they talk.

Woodridge: That's not easy these days. Erm, how about a jigsaw? 

Sam: Oh, that might be fun. 

He goes to fetch the box.

Woodridge: Erm, I have a jigsaw here and it has 200 pieces. RAF Reconnaissance Planes b*at off German Fighters. 

Sam: Well, that's still a bit w*r-like. 

Woodridge: Well, er, what have you in mind? 

Sam: Have you anything soft and cuddly, like a teddy bear? 

Woodridge: Oh, you won't find any teddy bears here. I heard that there were some in Harrods in London at ten shillings a time, but they'll have gone long ago. 

Sam: Well, if you don't mind my saying so, for a toy shop you don't have many toys. 

Woodridge: Well, that's not my fault. All the toy factories have closed down, or switched over to w*r production. You, as a mother, should know that. 

Sam: Oh, I'm not his mother. I just don't want anything to do with the w*r. Have you any board games? 

Woodridge: Yes, we have board games. 

He brings picks up some boxes.

Woodridge: Let's see. Submarine Hunt, Sky Battle and Ocean w*r. All at two bob. 

Sam: James? 

He looks up at her voice, then goes back to the toy soldiers.

Research centre. Townsend's driver brings him to the building. He gets out and hurries in. Inside, Frank and Terry Morgan are waiting for him. Hans and Evelyn are both nearby.

Townshend: What's the matter? What's going on here? 

Frank: You're Mr Townsend. 

Townshend: I'm Professor Townsend, yes. Who are you? 

Frank: I'm Frank. This is my brother Terry. 

Townshend: What are you doing here? 

Frank: Well, it just so happens we were passing the other night, professor. And we saw things, didn't we, Terry? 

Terry: Yeah, that's right. 

Frank: Seems to me we could have a pretty story to tell if we went to the police. You wouldn't like that, would you? 

Townshend: What do you want? 

Frank: 50 quid. We need to leave Hastings. We're gonna need living expenses. 

Townshend: 50 pounds? I don't have that sort of money! 

Terry: Each. 

Townshend: This is madness. 

Hans: Professor, this is more important. 

Townshend: Say nothing, Hans. Young man, you are wasting your time. We're not going to pay you anything. 

Frank: I think you are. I'll tell you what, I'll give you 24 hours to think about it. Talk it over with your friends. 

He and Terry leave.

Abandoned factory, Hythe. A group of men are around Hendry's gambling table.

Man: Give it a good throw.

Man: This one's going my way.

Man: Go, on, give it a good throw.

Man: It's gonna go my way.

Hendry rolls the dice. There are some groans.

Man: Yes!

Hendry: Now there's a lucky throw for you. I'm paying out on three crowns. Wish you'd bet more now, don't you? Who says the odds are with the house? I'm paying out more than you lot earn in a week. 

There's a crash as uniformed police burst in. The crowd scatters. Milner walks in behind the rest of the police.

Policeman: Shut the doors! 

Man: Go for it! Scarper! 

Man: Go on, get outta here! 

Policeman: No, you don't. No, you don't. 

As the police wrestle with the gamblers, Hendry hurries to pick up all the money.

Policeman: I've got him! 

Policeman: Hold him over there! Come on.

Milner walks up to Hendry.

Milner: Nice to see you again, Mr Hendry. 

Police interview room. Milner stands over Hendry. Foyle watches from the background.

Hendry: You're talking nonsense, Mr Milner. I mean, what do you take me for? 

Milner: I know what you are, Mr Hendry. 

Hendry: Listen to me. He owed us 35 bob. Now do I look like someone that's gonna put a b*llet in someone's head for 35 bob? 

Milner: I saw your men outside his house. 

Hendry: They saw you too. They were there to put the wind up him, that's all. 

Milner: For 35 bob? 

Hendry: I can't have people welching on me. It's bad for business. Word gets around. Five bob, 35 bob. If you don't pay up, you're gonna get slapped around a bit. I mean, I got a reputation. 

Milner: So, you're admitting to conspiracy to cause actual bodily harm? 

Hendry: I'm admitting to thinking about it but thinking ain't a crime, is it? 

Foyle: No, but illegal gaming is. 

Hendry: So? 

Foyle: And you att*cked an officer in the course of his duty, so if I offered you evens on a £500 fine and a year in jail... 

Hendry: A year? 

Foyle: What do you think? 

Milner: I think that's a safe bet, sir. 

Foyle: Yeah, I'd say so. 

They leave.

Stony beach. Lydia still lies on the rocks. A member of the Home Guard approaches and gestures to another behind him.

Home Guard: Quick! Over here! 

They run over to Lydia.

Police station front desk. Brooke has other people trying to solve the card puzzle.

Policeman 1: I know. I know. 

Policeman 2: No. It's not right. 

Brooke: No! You have to use four cards inside the square. A swastika. 

Policeman 2: What? Only four? 

Brooke: Yes. 

Policeman 1: Can't be done. 

Brooke: I know. It b*at the hell out of me. 

The phone rings and Brooke goes to pick it up.

Brooke: Hastings Constabulary, Sergeant Brooke. Yes, sir. Thank you. Yeah, I will. 

He hangs up.

Brooke: Put those away. I've got to speak to Mr Foyle.

The men collect up the cards.

The Royal Hospital, Hastings. A police driver brings Foyle to the building. He gets out of the car and heads up the steps, passing a nun on her way out.

Hospital ward. Lydia lies in one of the beds. Foyle stands a short distance away with the Mother Superior of the hospital.

Mother Superior: When they brought her here, they thought she was going to die. The doctor says she's come through the worst of it. They said she walked into the sea with her pockets full of stones. A mortal sin. I can't imagine what drove her to it. And attempted su1c1de, I believe, is a crime. Is that why you're here? 

Foyle: No, I'm her godfather and she has a son. 

Mother Superior: That makes her sin even harder to forgive. Where is her child? 

Foyle: He's being looked after. 

Mother Superior: Come back tomorrow. She'll be able to speak to you then. 

Foyle: I will, thank you. 

He leaves.

Taybury Woods. Sam walks through the trees with a picnic basket, followed by James.

Sam: You know, James, a picnic in the wood might be more fun if you would actually talk to me. Let's see if we can find somewhere nice to sit. 

Elsewhere in the woods. Frank, carrying the suitcase b*mb, walks along with Terry.

Frank: Why are you so down in the dumps? 

Terry: We're out of our depth, Frank. We should just chuck it. 

Frank: What and risk someone getting hurt? Don't tell me you're scared of loud noises? 

Terry: I'm scared of getting into more trouble. 

Frank: No, we're getting out of trouble. That's what all this is about. 

Elsewhere. James is walking through the trees.

Sam (offscreen): When I was your age, my father made me learn the name of every tree in the wood. 

She points at one.

Sam: That's a beech. Or is it a chestnut? This over here, this one is an ash. 

She and James walk on down a slope.

Nearby. Frank and Terry are on the same hill.

Frank: Over here. 

He sets the suitcase down in a clear space and opens it. Sam and James walk by in the background. Frank arms the b*mb and it starts ticking.

Frank: Let's get out of here. 

They run off to take shelter behind a couple of tree stumps. Behind them, Sam and James are approaching the suitcase.

Terry: There's someone coming. 

Frank: What? 

Clearing.

Sam: These definitely are beeches. You can tell by the nuts, look. 

Tree stumps.

Terry: You've got to warn them. 

Frank: No, it's, it's too late. 

Terry (shouting): Watch out, there-

The suitcase explodes a short distance from Sam and James. They both tumble to the ground.

Terry (offscreen): Frank!

Frank: Run, Terry. 

The two of them run away from the scene.

Behind them, James lies face-down on the ground. There's the phantom sound of b*mb dropping/

Flashback to James in class photo.

Woods. James rolls onto his back. The phantom b*mb noises go on. The treetop spin.

Flashback to other children and the teacher in the class photo, to accompaniment of phantom screams and the bell of a f*re engine.

James (distorted): Mrs Dukes!

Foyle house. Sam sits on the sofa, her hair dishevelled. Foyle brings her over a drink.

Sam: I have to say, it was the last thing I was expecting. Do you realise it's the third time I've been blown up? 

Frank: Can't say I was counting. 

Sam: Well, first of all, there was the pub and then Jerry dropped a b*mb on my house. And now this! I was only going for a walk in the woods. Seems nowhere's safe these days. 

Foyle sits down in the armchair.

Foyle: And you saw what? 

Sam: Two youths. They were both about eighteen, I'd say. One was tall, had dark hair and his name was Terry. I heard the other one call out to him. 

Foyle: The other wasn't called Frank by any chance? 

Sam: Do you know, I think that might have been his name. How did you know? 

Foyle: They're the same men who helped Milner when he got into trouble the other night. 

Sam: Well, that's nice of them. Rescue Milner and then try to k*ll me. I wish they'd get their priorities sorted out. 

Foyle: Gonna be all right? 

Sam: Absolutely. I feel tip-top. And thank you for the whiskey. 

Foyle: Pleasure. Where is he? 

Sam: He's upstairs. 

They both stand up.

Sam: I think you'll find he's completely changed. In a way, it's a sort of a miracle. When the b*mb went off, he started calling for a Mrs Dukes. 

Foyle: Mary Dukes was, erm, a teacher who was k*lled. 

Sam: In a way, it sort of unlocked everything. Did you find his mother? 

Foyle: I did. 

Sam: Where? 

Foyle: She's somewhere safe. 

Sam: Good. All right then, sir. I'll see you tomorrow and good luck with James. 

Foyle: Thank you. 

Sam: I mean... Jimmy. 

Foyle: Ah. 

Later. Foyle walks back through into the front room. James comes running along the hall and into the room.

James: I don't like it here! Where's my mum? I wanna go home.

Foyle: Well, at least we're finally talking. 

James: What have you done with my mum? 

Foyle: I haven't done anything with your mum, James. 

James: Jimmy! Everyone calls me Jimmy except her. 

Foyle: Jimmy. She's not very well, I'm afraid and we're still trying to get in touch with your father. 

James: I haven't got a father. He's d*ad! 

Foyle: Not according to your mother. 

James: She's lying. She always lies. 

Foyle: Right... It looks as if we're going to, er, have to spend a couple more days together at least. 

James: Why? I don't like you. You're a copper. 

Foyle: Yeah, that's right. Have you ever been to prison? 

Police interview room. Milner stands over Hendry.

Milner: The names. 

Hendry: I don't know any names. They're punters. 

Milner: Mr Hendry, this is now a m*rder investigation and I saw your men, acting under your orders, at the victim's house just hours before he was k*lled. 

Hendry: That had nothing to do with me. You can't pin that on me. 

They exchange looks for a moment. Then Hendry looks away.

Hendry: Frank and Terry Morgan. They're fishermen. They've got one of them huts down the beach. Brothers. Look... I'm cooperating with you. Maybe you can do something for me. 

Milner: No dice. 

He leaves.

Beach hut. Uniformed police are escorting Frank and Terry into a car.

Fisherman 1 (offscreen): I see the two lads are in trouble again. Four coppers.

Fisherman 2: Four coppers.

Fisherman 1: Tell you what, they're gonna miss home.

The car engine starts.

Police station front desk. Brooke is doing paperwork and looks over his shoulder. When he sees that he's alone, he lifts the book in front of him the reveal the playing cards still set up. He goes back to trying to solve the puzzle.

Police interview room.

Foyle: How old are you? 

The Morgan brothers are both being questioned together.

Frank: I'm eighteen. 

Terry: I'm sixteen. 

Milner is there observing as well.

Foyle: Where are your parents? You on your own? 

Frank: Yeah. 

Terry: Dad's away. Convoy duty. 

Foyle: Mother? 

Terry: She died. 

Foyle: Well, it seems as if you've got yourselves in an awful lot of trouble. 

Frank: No, we haven't done nothing. 

Foyle: Haven't you? How do you account for the money you've been chucking about at dice games? How d'you get your hands on expl*sives device which nearly k*lled a woman and child, incidentally? What about the m*rder you're involved with? 

Frank: What? 

Milner takes a wallet out of an evidence envelope.

Milner: We found this in your hut on the beach. It belonged to Michael Richards. You knew him from the card game. 

He opens the wallet.

Milner: This is his identity card. His ration book. 

Foyle: He was sh*t two nights ago. What d'you know about that? 

Frank points at Milner.

Frank: Look, we looked out for him, for your oppo, didn't we? What, and this is what we get in return? 

Foyle: No, I'm very grateful, which is why we will do what we can for you, but you've got to tell us the truth. 

Frank: We can't tell you. 

Terry: Frank! 

Frank: Terry, just shut up! 

Terry: No. I've had enough of it. Frank, please. 

Frank is silent for a moment.

Frank: I don't even know where to start. 

De Perez house.

De Perez (voiceover): I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, Mr Foyle. 

Foyle and Milner stand in the lounge with him.

De Perez: Can I offer you, er, some refreshment? A small sherry, perhaps? 

Foyle: We won't, thank you. 

De Perez: Then how can I help you? 

Foyle: You are... 

De Perez: Jose Oliviera De Perez. Is your sergeant going to write it down? I will be very happy to spell it for you. 

Milner: No, thank you. 

De Perez: I am a Special Observer for the Spanish Institute of Political Studies. I am attached to the Spanish embassy, but I find it expedient to keep a house down here by the coast also. 

Foyle: Expedient in that it allows you to sabotage coastal installations? 

De Perez: That is a very grave accusation, Mr Foyle. I wonder what evidence you might have to support it. 

Milner: We've arrested two delinquents. Frank and Terry Morgan. According to their testimony, they broke into this house five weeks ago on the of 17th March. 

De Perez: Interesting. I was unaware of any break-ins. 

Milner: They claim you discovered them and that you effectively coerced them into undertaking several acts of sabotage on your behalf. Er, these include a f*re at Hythe docks, a munitions work just outside Bexhill, the cutting of telephone wires in various locations, and most recently, a plan to blow up a research centre here in Hastings. 

De Perez: And this is your evidence? The word of, how did you put it, two delinquents? 

Milner: They can describe you and this house. 

De Perez: So can my cleaner. So can many other people, I am sure. 

Milner: So, you're denying the charges, sir? 

De Perez: I am neither denying them nor confirming them, Sergeant Milner. I think you perhaps failed to hear when we first spoke. I am attached to the Spanish embassy and, as such, I come under their protection. I am not required to answer any of your questions and, more to the point, this house is also theirs. I am sorry to tell you this, gentlemen, but in effect, you are on Spanish soil. Your law does not extend here. In which instance, therefore, I will wish you both a very good day, gentlemen.

Foyle: Thank you for your time. 

De Perez: I only wish I had more of it to share with you. 

Foyle: I'm sure you will next time. 

De Perez: We will see. 

He holds the door for them as they leave.

Research centre.

Townshend: I was going to come back and see you again, Foyle. 

Foyle and Milner are both there, as are Evelyn and Hans.

Foyle: Before or after the Morgans tried to blackmail you? 

Townshend: I was never very happy about our attempts to lie about what happened here but I persuaded myself that it was in the national interest. But there was no crime. 

Foyle: A man was k*lled. 

Townshend: It was self-defence. More than that. He was thr*at to destroy our work. 

Foyle: Please just tell me what happened. 

Foyle looks at Evelyn expectantly.

Evelyn: I, I was working late. There had been a test the previous evening. I can't give you any of the details but I had to type up the results. Michael wasn't happy about it. 

Flashback to Michael walking through the woods. He's dressed up and carrying a bunch of flowers.

Evelyn (voiceover): I already told you he resented my being here, and that night he decided, now I don't know why-

Michael reaches the door of the research centre.

Cut back to the present.

Evelyn: He'd been drinking. He came round. I was astonished to see him, but there was nothing I could do. 

Flashback to Michael entering the dark centre and looking around.

Michael: Evelyn? 

Present day.

Evelyn: I told him to leave and we argued. We'd argued before, often, but this was different. He became angry, then violent... 

Hans: He was always like that. He was a brute. 

Evelyn: He, he didn't try to hurt me this time. It was the machine. It was our work. 

Townshend: I, er, I can't tell you what it does. But, er, it's taken us months to get it right. 

Evelyn: He tried to destroy it. I think he was mad. I'd never seen him like it before. He picked up a spanner and that's when I did it. I knew I had no choice. 

Flashback to Evelyn sh**ting Michael.

Flashback to Mr Woodridge outside with his dog.

Woodridge: Come on. 

Present day.

Evelyn: I sh*t him to protect our work. I didn't mean to k*ll him. I just wanted to stop him. 

Hans: You did the right thing. 

Evelyn: No. I never hated him. Despite everything, I, I never meant to hurt him. 

Foyle: I see. Where did you get the g*n? 

Townshend: It's mine. I kept it here because... Well, all these instances of sabotage. Bexhill. Hythe. I thought it might be sensible to have it on hand, to protect ourselves if needs be. 

Foyle: And what happened afterwards? 

Evelyn: Er, I, I didn't know what to do. I telephoned Professor Townsend. 

Flashback to Townsend hurrying back to the building.

Evelyn (voiceover): I thought he'd know what to do and he had to know what had happened. He said he'd come straight round. 

Present day.

Evelyn: I, I didn't even know if he was d*ad. I tried to find a pulse. It was horrible and I was so scared. 

Foyle: And then what? 

Evelyn: Er, well, then I telephoned Lindemann. I couldn't stand being on my own. 

Townshend: Mrs Richards was very upset when I arrived. Lindemann was comforting her but she was beside herself. 

Foyle: And, er, so, what? Then, you decided to, erm, carry the body out into the woods and pretend somebody else had done it? 

Flashback to Hans and Townshend carrying the body out.

Hans (voiceover): What difference did it make? 

Cut back to the present.

Hans: He had no rights to come here and, Evelyn, Mrs Richards, she did the right thing to stop him. 

Townshend: It's all right, Hans. I, erm, I take full responsibility for the decision, Foyle. But I, I have to say that what was foremost in our minds was our work here. If you knew what, what, what we're doing, if I could only tell you, I'm, I'm sure you'd understand. 

Foyle: Are we still pretending that, erm, Mrs Richards here is just a secretary? 

The three researchers exchange looks.

Foyle: Er, the books in your house, er, are yours, not your husband's. 

Flashback to the book on the desk and Evelyn picking up the photo.

Foyle (voiceover): Your desk. Not his. Am I right? 

Present day.

Evelyn: How did you know? 

Foyle: Well, it's just odd, erm, for him to keep a photograph of himself on his desk. Erm, more likely to be one of you, I'd have thought. 

Townshend: Mrs Richards is, erm... is much more than a secretary. She, erm, she has an astonishing mind. I mean this is her work. 

He gestures to the machine.

Townshend: The Admiralty are completely blinkered. I mean, they wouldn't think of having a woman involved at this level. And so we've, we've always had to keep up with the pretence. 

Foyle: Well, I'm sorry to have to tell you that, erm, astonishing or not, er, still one or two questions for, erm, Mrs Richards here so, erm... 

Milner: I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to come with us, Mrs Richards.

Hans stands up.

Hans: Er, you can't do that! 

Townshend: Please. I thought I'd explained to you. This work that we're part of... 

Foyle: Will have to wait, I'm afraid. 

Townshend: It can't. 

Foyle walks out. Milner and Evelyn follow.

Hans: Er, Professor... 

He points after them in disbelief.

Townshend: It's all right, Hans. 

As Hans sighs, Townshend goes over to pick up the telephone.

Police station. Brooke is just headed back to the front desk with two cups of tea, one of which he gives to Sam.

Brooke: Here's your- oh.

He spots Parkins about to come through the doors and they both move out of the way. Foyle is just coming out from the direction of his office as Parkins walks in, followed by Captain Boothroyd.

Parkins: Foyle. 

Foyle: Well, that didn't take long. Afternoon, sir. 

Parkins: This is Captain Boothroyd from the Admiralty. 

Foyle: I see. Afternoon. 

Parkins: You're holding a Mrs Evelyn Richards here at this station. Is that right? 

Foyle: It is. 

Parkins: I want you to release her immediately. 

Foyle: Shall we, er, talk about this in my office? 

Sam and Brooke watch the three of them go.

Foyle's office. Foyle closes the door behind them.

Foyle: Released on whose authority? 

Boothroyd: It's all right, Assistant Commissioner. I can assure you this comes right from the top. 

Parkins: I've been acquainted with all the facts at the highest level. The Admiralty has also given me access to further, restricted information. 

Foyle: Well, that's kind of them. 

Parkins: It means that I do have the full picture here. 

Boothroyd: Mrs Richards was defending the work of her colleagues against a man who was drunk and demented. She has no case to answer. 

Parkins: I'm not asking you to close the book on this one, Foyle. No need for that. At the same time, I see no reason why Mrs Richards shouldn't remain at liberty, and at work, while you tie up the loose ends. 

Foyle: Well, just, erm, two problems with that, as far as I can see. 

Parkins: What are they? 

Foyle: Oh, well, firstly, we'd have to accept she's in fact telling the truth. 

Boothroyd: She's confessed to the sh**ting. I don't see what possible explanation there could be. 

Foyle: Well, I can think of one or two. And we'd also have to accept that, er, police procedure, British law, British justice are irrelevant if any old uniform can turn up here and decide who can or can't be detained. 

Parkins: Look, I'm the one making the decisions here, Mr Foyle. You can continue your investigation, if you must, but I see no reason to keep Mrs Richards behind bars. 

He and Boothroyd leave.

Street outside the Richards house. Evelyn is walking back home. Hans steps out from around a corner.

Hans: Did they let you go? 

Evelyn: Yes. 

Hans: Then we did it. We got away with it. 

The two of them kiss, then head back into the house. From further up the street, Milner watches them go in.

The Royal Hospital. The Mother Superior meets Foyle and James in the hallway. James is carrying a suitcase.

Mother Superior: So, this is young James, is it? 

James: Jimmy. 

Mother Superior: We can look after him for a few days. 

Foyle: That's a relief. You will find him a little, erm, lively? 

Mother Superior: Affliction is good for the soul. Lydia wants to see you now. 

Foyle: Thank you. 

He exchanges a look with James.

Foyle: See you soon. 

Mother Superior: This way, Jimmy. 

She leads him off in the opposite direction to Foyle.

James: Why are you dressed like that? 

Mother Superior: It's my habit. 

James: You look stupid. 

Mother Superior: Not as stupid as you'll look when you're feeling the back of my hand. 

Hospital ward. Lydia is sitting up in bed as Foyle walks in. He comes over and takes a seat at her bedside.

Lydia: I've been so unhappy. I didn't know what to do. And after what happened with James... well, I felt so useless, I just couldn't cope any more. 

Foyle: Should have said something. 

Lydia: It was too late. 

Foyle: You should have said something ten years ago. 

Lydia: I did get that letter you sent me. You were very kind. But after what happened with Robert, I couldn't go back home. My parents didn't want to see me. 

Foyle: They did. They'd have taken you back in an instant. They didn't want to see you go in the first place. 

Lydia: Are you saying it was my fault? 

Foyle: You never gave them a chance to accept what had happened. 

Lydia: Go on. 

Foyle: Well, erm, none of my business, all too long ago, but it did seem to me that... you wanted to be hurt. I mean, they tried to get in touch with you several times. You never replied. You never replied to me. 

Lydia: I was in love. 

Foyle: Is that an excuse? 

Lydia: No, but it explains it and now it's too late. You might as well know, I'm... I'm not an OWL operator. I'm not doing anything for the w*r effort. I have a couple of rooms in Clapton and I... earn a living charring and taking in laundry. What d'you think my parents would say to that? The truth is that... Robert left a few months after James was born. I don't- he's not in Africa. I don't know where he is. He just shoved off and disappeared. I have a little money. What am I to do? 

Foyle stands up.

Foyle: You should, er, stay a little longer. 

Lydia: The sisters have been very kind, but I'm not sure they'd let me. 

Foyle: No, I mean with me, both of you. For the time being. 

Lydia: Are you sure? 

Foyle: No. But somebody's got to look after you. 

Lydia: What about your work? 

Foyle: Well, I've got a feeling there's gonna be, erm, less of it from now on. I'll be back. 

He leaves.

Hospital corridor. Townshend is standing waiting. Foyle walks over to join him.

Townshend: Your desk sergeant told me I would find you here. I wondered if we could talk. 

Later. The two of them sit on a bench in a quiet part of the hospital.

Townshend: I feel terrible about all this business. I've known you, er, I don't know how many years. And lying to the police! It's not something I would normally contemplate. But you, erm, you must understand what I've been trying to tell you. My work is classified. Now, I've spoken with Captain Boothroyd and he has sought clearance at the highest level to enable me to tell you what we've been working on. I, I feel I owe it to you. 

Foyle: Too kind. 

Townshend: Very soon, the RAF are going to b*mb a series of dams in Germany's industrial heartland, the Ruhr Valley. Now, if we can knock those dams out, we will do vast damage to their w*r machine. Factories, power stations, roads, bridges, farmland. We'll put them all under hundreds of millions of gallons of water. But it's going to need a...

He falls silent as a nurse walks past.

Townshend: It's going to take a very special b*mb.

Flashback to the filming of the test down on the beach.

Townshend (voiceover): A b*mb that bounces along the surface of the water.

Film footage of the bouncing b*mb.

Townshend (voiceover): Now, nothing like this has ever been attempted before. The b*mb has to be sent spinning before it's released and my team have helped to develop a machine that does precisely that.

Hospital corridor.

Townshend: And that was the machine that Michael Richards would have destroyed if Evelyn hadn't stopped him. 

Foyle: And that's why you, er, you protected her? 

Townshend: Well, she was protecting us. 

Foyle: And that's worth... perverting the course of justice? 

Townshend: I thought so. 

Foyle: Poor decision, Professor, because, apart from betraying our friendship, you've also made yourself an accessory to premeditated m*rder. 

Townshend: Evelyn Richards said that she acted in self-defence. 

Foyle: She lied. She lied to you and to us. 

Townshend: Lied? Lied about what? 

Foyle: Well, amongst other things, erm, about what happened. 

Flashback to Evelyn's confession.

Evelyn: Er, I, I didn't know what to do. I telephoned Professor Townsend. I thought he'd know what to do and he had to know what had happened. He said he'd come straight round. Then I telephoned Lindemann. I couldn't stand being on my own. 

Hospital corridor.

Foyle: You live, er, less than a mile away from the research centre. 

Townshend: Yes. 

Foyle: Lindemann's rooms are eight miles away in Bexhill. 

Townshend: Yes, they are. 

Foyle: If she called you first, erm, how come he was already there when you arrived? 

Townshend is silent for a moment.

Townshend: Well, she... she must have made a mistake. 

Foyle: If you say so. 

He gets up and walks away. Townshend sits back against the bench and sighs.

Police station front desk. Milner is attempting the card puzzle while Brooke and Sam watch.

Milner: Well, I don't get it. 

Brooke: Join the club. I even got that chap Hendry to have a go at it. Well, him being a gambler an' all. 

Milner: Are you sure you got it right? 

Sam: Absolutely. It's in the book. 

Foyle walks in.

Foyle: Ready? 

Sam: Yes, sir. 

Milner: Yes, sir.

Foyle: Still at it?

Brooke: Beaten everyone, sir. Why don't you have a go? 

Foyle: No. It's, er, not quite my sort of thing. 

Sam: Oh, go on, sir. Help us out. It's very simple. 

Foyle: Is it? 

Sam: Well, at least it should be. What you have to do is make a swastika inside the frame using-

Brooke: Using four cards. 

Sam: Four cards.

Foyle comes over to look.

Foyle: Mmm. Anybody got close? 

Brooke: Nowhere near. 

Milner: It's called A New Deal For the n*zi. 

Foyle: Well, you know, sometimes it helps to erm... look behind the cards, maybe. 

Sam: What d'you mean, sir? 

Foyle: Well, I was just thinking about... shapes, you know, but, no, frankly I don't see it. 

Sam: Well, if it's foxed you, what hope is there for the rest of us? 

Foyle: Well, that's enough from you. Come on, this is getting us nowhere. We're gonna to be late. Milner. 

Milner: Yes, sir. 

He looks at Brooke.

Milner: Good luck. 

Brooke: (Yeah.)

Milner leaves.

Brooke: Behind the cards. 

He picks up one of the cards and looks at the other side.

Later. Brooke is still struggling with the puzzle. He sighs and puts a card down. Then something clicks.

Brooke: Oh! 

He laughs.

Brooke: There it is! 

He arranges the four cards so that the blank space inside the square forms the swastika shape.

Brooke: I've got it. I've got it. I've done it! 

Regency Hotel. Sam and Foyle pull up in front of the building in the car.

Foyle: Right, this won't take long. Back soon. 

He gets out of the car and walks into the building.

Foyle's office. Brooke walks in with an envelope and sets it on his desk. Then he spots something.

Brooke: Crafty old fox. 

He turns to leave. On the desk, Foyle has the solution to the card trick set out.

Regency Hotel lobby. Foyle waits at the foot of the staircase as Parkins makes his way down.

Parkins: Morning. I've finished my investigation of the south coast. I have to get back to London. 

Foyle: Well, absolutely no intention of keeping you. 

Hotel dining room. Parkins and Foyle sit alone at a table, the others in the room covered and not in use.

Foyle: Well, I'm primarily here to find out about the De Perez situation. 

Parkins: I'm afraid I can't help you. He's attached to the embassy, as he told you, and, as such, he's beyond our reach. Spain declared their neutrality back in September '39. However, many of their diplomats, the consular service, the police and the coastguard work for the Germans. I got this from a friend in Whitehall. He suggested we pass on what we know about De Perez to the security services. 

Foyle: And what will they do? 

Parkins: I doubt they'll do anything. They know who he is and what he is. Doubtless they have their own reasons for keeping him at large. 

Foyle: And so he goes free. Well, that's marvellous. They all go free. 

Parkins: Who do you mean? 

Foyle: Well, him, Evelyn Richards. Lindemann. 

Parkins: Lindemann? 

Foyle: Lindemann. 

Parkins: You're not saying he was involved, are you? 

Foyle: I am. 

Parkins: What on earth are you suggesting? 

Foyle: On the day he dies, how does Michael Richards, sir, in such an extremely good mood as a result of taking a phone call, come to be so very angry and violent so very shortly afterwards? If he goes to the research centre with the intention of doing as much damage as possible, why does he need his best suit and a bunch of flowers to do it? How does a woman with no experience of firearms manage to sh**t her drunk, violent husband so very precisely between the eyes in such a very premeditated fashion? I'm suggesting that she made the call to her husband, inviting him to the centre with the prospect of a- an improvement in their relationship where he was sh*t by Lindemann. 

Parkins: And why would they do this? 

Foyle: Because they're having an affair. For which we do have proof. 

Parkins: It's not enough. 

Foyle: Right. Well, it certainly is for me. 

He stands up.

Parkins: Foyle.

Foyle: No, with this sort of thing, erm, virtually condoned for the sake of the w*r effort, a man guilty of, er, coercion and sabotage can't be touched, while two boys, guilty of nothing more than slipping off the rails because of a lack of parental control will get several years with hard labour. Assistant Commissioners doing their very best to undermine me in front of my staff, yep, I'd say I'd had enough. 

Parkins: Look. I, I, I know you and I got off to a bad start, Foyle. It was my fault and I apologise for it. But it's not too late. We can have another look at Mrs Richards and I'll tell you what.

He looks at some paperwork in front of him.

Parkins: You know a young woman. Lydia Nicholson. 

Foyle: Mmm. 

Parkins: I have here a report concerning an attempted su1c1de. A recommendation to prosecute. 

He tears it in half.

Parkins: You see? Justice can sometimes be manipulated to help the individual. 

Foyle: Well. Your justice, perhaps. Not mine. 

He takes an envelope out of his pocket and tosses it on the table in front of Parkins, then goes to leave.

Parkins: Look, you can't do this.

Foyle leaves the room.

Parkins: Damn it. 

He picks up the envelope and opens it.

Foyle (voiceover): Assistant Commissioner Parkins. I've suggested to you that maintaining the law in a time of w*r is all but impossible.

Seafront. Foyle walks out to join Sam and Milner.

Foyle (voiceover): I have now reached the conclusion that I am no longer up to the task and it would seem, therefore, that there can be no useful purpose in me remaining in my position.

Foyle reaches the other two. He speaks with them, the words unheard.

Later. The three of them walk back together.

Foyle (voiceover): I am, therefore, offering you my resignation, effective as of now. I remain, sir, your obedient servant, Christopher Foyle.
{"type": "series", "show": "Foyle's War", "episode": "05x02 - Casualties Of w*r"}