The Greater Good The Doctor Blake Mysteries

I understand your concern

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

over the next 24 hours...

..given the correct course of antibiotics.

We will, of course, continue to monitor her condition.

Do shut up.

DOOR OPENS AND CLOSES

SHE CHUCKLES

-Are you sure?

-Yeah.

-Are you sure?

-Yeah, why not?

-What are you doing?

-I slipped.

-Help me up.

-Come on.

There's something on the floor.

SHE SCREAMS

A doctor and a nurse found him.

Right.

What were they doing down here?

HE CLEARS THROAT

No.

-Really, here?

-Mm-hm.

We've taken statements.

Well...wound to the back of the head.

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

Or it was slippery.

Yes, maybe.

Excuse me, who are you?

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

-Where's Ron?

-Ron doesn't work here any more.

-Why not?

-I do now.

I'll leave you to it.

Right, well, I'm Dr Lucien Blake.

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

Well, how do we do that?

You'll be taking his legs.

Right. We ready, Hugh?

I guess so.

Good.

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

You're going to cut him open?

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

You do know what a bone saw looks like, yes?

-I can't find it.

-It's a saw.

It's not here.

-Any other saws there?

-No.

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

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

-Nothing at all?

-Nothing.

No saws? No clamps?

No.

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

Hugh?

What's wrong?

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

That's all.

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

We know.

Hugh wasn't sure but I can't imagine

-Ron would have been too happy about that.

-He wasn't.

Parks has been asking questions.

People heard him threaten to come back and kill Bert.

Well, I'm guessing he came back and took the autopsy instruments too.

-Well, most of them.

-Most?

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

Dragging Ron Jackson into the station?

-Yes.

-Hobart's been to his place.

-There's no-one there.

-You've been busy.

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

Really? Do tell.

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

The Army's on my back.

Two soldiers have buggered off from the base

down in South Australia.

Official bloody Secrecy Act.

Happy times. I'll perform that autopsy tomorrow

-with my own instruments.

-Right.

Oh, Doc.

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

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

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

No, well, it is. He might have murdered someone.

Oh, Mr Bradley. Would you mind?

HE CLEARS THROAT

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

but I am perfectly comfortable right here.

Oh, I understand, sir.

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

just as accommodating.

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

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

Of course, sir.

Now, about that armchair.

I accept defeat. Where is this bloody chair?

This way, sir.

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

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

I needed to clear the reading room for Anzac Day.

There's some army people in town.

Of course. Anything else I have to give up?

-A few personal liberties, perhaps?

-Controversial, sir.

Not at all. We should give up our armchairs

whenever the powers that be ask us to.

Are you totally sure about Ron?

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

He insisted on telling me about boxing.

Boxing?

It was all he talked about.

But he seemed like a gentleman, unlike you.

So does your bloke in Melbourne

know that you're out dancing with a murder suspect?

Which proves my point.

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

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

-Told her you'd call her back.

-Right, very good.

Oh, Jean, just while I think of it,

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

-Oh, about...

-Do you mean this one?

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

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

DOOR BELL RINGS

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

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

Oops.

-Will you be here for lunch today?

-Um, not sure.

Performing an autopsy this morning - Bert Prentice.

-Oh.

-You knew him?

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

What kind of stories?

-The kind of stories about people who work in morgues.

-Oh.

I thought he was a nice man. Shy.

Um, I have an interview this afternoon

for that new position at the Royal Cross.

Unless you need something?

I don't think so, no. That should be fine.

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

'Some surface veins severed.

'Extensive blood loss.'

'The indentation matches the edge of an iron stool in there.'

'Skin and blood under the nails, as yet unidentified.'

'Supports the hypothesis that someone else was present.'

The cause of death?

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

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

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

One punch?

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

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

Ron Jackson.

Mattie said he's a keen boxer.

Keen?

Bloody regional champion.

No-one's laid a glove on him.

-Any sign of him?

-Not yet.

Parks is searching old Bert Prentice's place

for any other evidence linked to Jackson.

Well, I might warn your men.

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

"Laughs and Lovelies."

DOOR OPENS

FOOTSTEPS

CUTLERY RATTLES IN KITCHEN

Police! Hey...

Ah!

Hey! Stay where you are!

Hey!

Stop, you bloody idiot!

McRae? Gordon McRae?

-Yes?

-Sally Clements left another message for you.

And?

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

-'Course I don't.

-Yes, well, I told her that.

Now you get her to make an appointment.

-I told her that too.

-Or I can make a house call.

It's not rocket science.

-Anything else?

-I don't think so.

Right, well I'll call her back.

PHONE RINGS

Oh, honestly.

Tell her I examine patients first, then I prescribe,

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

-What now?

-Superintendent Lawson for you.

Yes?

-Gordon McRae.

-I didn't do anything.

Break and enter. Assault.

-Resist arrest.

-That copper came at me!

I was minding my own business.

At Bert Prentice's house?

Argh!

Ah, tender, eh?

But otherwise all right.

-He's given you quite a tap.

-Oh, come on.

-Don't you start.

-I didn't say anything.

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

-Yeah. Yeah, yeah.

-Who is this bloke?

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

the usual stolen stuff.

McRae's had it in for Bert for years.

Assault with intent. Assault with weapon.

Property damage. Property damage again.

All this against Bert Prentice.

You must really hate the bloke.

Don't have to answer that.

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

What were you doing at Bert's house?

Having a beer.

With your old mate Bert, is that right?

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

who saw you there last night?

What were you doing at the hospital?

I never said I was there.

You didn't have to.

Any sign of Ron Jackson yet?

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

Maybe.

McRae can stew in the interview room for a while.

We're still looking for Ron Jackson.

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

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

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

Bendigo, Geelong, Shepparton. Call them.

-Right.

-And you can go home.

-I've got enough on my plate.

-Boss.

Oh, never stops. Go home.

Major Alderton, Matthew Lawson.

-Sergeant Robert Hannam.

-Very nice to meet you.

Now, Canberra's briefed you?

Oh, we've received a description of the two deserters.

Just one now but the same conditions apply.

The station's resources are at your disposal.

-Thank you very much.

-Not quite.

Not me.

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

For Christ's sake, Blake...

You employ this man, Superintendent?

Uh...

Well, then my opinion of your station

has just taken a dramatic improvement.

I don't see you for years

and suddenly you appear out of nowhere.

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

Oh, official business and all that.

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

-Love it.

-Excellent.

Give your telephone number and address to the Sergeant here.

Come on through to the office.

I'll see you later, Lucien.

Certainly.

TYPEWRITER KEYS CLICK

Doctor.

Sally Clements. She called earlier.

Yes, of course.

Mrs Clements, come on through.

Nice to meet you.

-And these lesions?

-Sores.

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

And inside. And in my throat.

-And now they're gone?

-Yeah.

And the, uh, the bleeding from the gums?

Well, it came on at the same time.

And that's cleared up too?

For now.

I see.

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

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

No. I just...

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

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

Please, Doctor.

I'm not even sure you're sick.

I am.

Look, these symptoms you speak of,

it could be any number of complaints and right now,

you don't have any of them.

They're real.

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

Please, Mrs Clements.

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

not in the way you've described.

Mrs Clements?

-Parks.

-Yeah?

Just had a call from Bendigo Hospital.

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

-Oh, what, Jackson?

-Well, he fits the description.

Apparently, he's on his way here.

Boss wants us to intercept him out of town.

We don't know how dangerous this bloke is

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

-What, so are we armed, then, sir?

-Too bloody right.

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

But you know the drill - eyes open.

You cover each other.

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

Right.

Are you up for it?

Yeah, 'course I am.

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

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

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

Got pregnant. Lost the baby.

-Family?

-They never married so...

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

Hmm.

-Did she leave an address?

-Hmm.

Oh, very good.

I might take that, call in on her later.

Staying for lunch?

Um, well...

About that, I, um...

I don't think I will be.

But listen, good luck with that interview this afternoon.

DOOR CLOSES

-Sergeant Hannam.

-Doctor.

The Major's done quite well for himself.

Yes, sir.

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

I'm guessing this isn't?

That's right, sir.

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

-Come on.

-Bloody come on.

Ah!

-You all right?

-Yeah, yeah, yeah.

So you call yourself a boxer?

Come on! Give me your best shot!

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

back into the fold.

We need skilled intelligence more than ever.

Tell me, are we looking to America now?

Or is it still the old country?

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

We need big friends.

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

How does that keep the red hordes at bay?

Ah!

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

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

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

Come on, admit it. You miss the work.

Suits that labyrinthine brain of yours.

You know you only have to say the word.

Did they ever find them?

No.

Bad business.

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

I made enquiries.

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

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

And you never remarried?

No.

You always were too tragically heroic for this world.

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

-Hmm!

-Thank you.

-And you believe this?

-Not really, no.

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

Friends.

A lot of friends.

Here's to all of them.

To all of them.

Nothing like being legless by two o'clock.

Cec.

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

Something about a Ron Jackson.

Thank you.

We've recovered the autopsy tools.

He'd tried to sell them in Bendigo.

Apparently he resisted.

Are the cuffs really necessary?

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

Have you been drinking?

I'll need the usual incident report on Jackson.

Ah, yes, the report.

The one that mentions how

he savagely attacked your men with his face?

The bloke made threats against Bert Prentice

and stole tools from the morgue the night he was murdered.

-Your men beat him up, Lawson.

-I've got enough to deal with.

Report on my desk.

And no drinking while on call.

I don't know about this.

And I don't know about Ron Jackson.

Didn't stop you beating him up, though, did it?

-It's hard to explain.

-Hmm.

Have the photos I asked for?

Thank you.

Come lie down for me, Danny.

Like this.

Good.

Just that way a little.

Excellent.

So why are you doing this?

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

Ron Jackson didn't attack you, did he?

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

-What happened?

-He smacked he across the face.

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

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

All right?

Danny.

Well, that's interesting.

-What is?

-Blood flow.

You see here? The back of his head.

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

So?

So, why is there blood...

..over here on the grouting?

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

Well, maybe it's old.

Hmm.

Danny.

Well, it's Bert's blood type.

Mm-hm, so what does that mean?

It means that someone cleaned the floor,

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

What was Bert doing down here anyway?

Well, he would have been working on a body.

Which one?

Danny?

Inspector Lawson in a good mood today?

What are you talking about?

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

In fact, their incident report says,

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

"Cause of death unknown." Well?

Hello!

-Where's the body?

-Well, how the hell should I know?

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

-Blake...

-Look, someone killed Bert

and then cleaned a small area of floor

between the body and the front of the locker.

Now, why would you do that?

Well, to cover up the evidence of a murder.

Well, wouldn't you clean the entire floor?

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

Look, maybe they're not trying to hide Bert's murder.

Maybe they're trying to hide something else.

Like stealing a body.

HE SIGHS

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

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

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

Weren't there two?

And I have a police surgeon who's been drinking

since two o'clock in the afternoon.

Ron Jackson is out of bounds.

Go home and sober up.

Parks.

-What'd you tell the doc?

-Nothing.

-Mate...

-Constable.

Ron Jackson was apprehended on the Midland Highway

at approximately 12.50pm, correct?

Yeah.

While being escorted to the police cells,

-the prisoner attempted escape.

-Well, he panicked, sir.

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

Sergeant Hobart managed to subdue him.

The bloke hit you.

He managed to place the prisoner in the cell

and the police surgeon was notified.

Is this correct?

-Yes, sir.

-There's your report. Write it up.

You, go to the hospital.

No-one gets to see Ron Jackson unless they're a nurse or a copper.

Sir.

-MATTIE:

-Danny and his mates? They beat him up?

Yes. It's called resisting arrest.

Would you hold that for me, please, Mattie?

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

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

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

And then just pop it on the stool.

What is that?

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

It's called luminol.

Picks up traces of iron.

Invented last century.

Used to locate iron ore.

The Nazis worked out they could also use it

to detect the presence of blood...

..even when it had been cleaned away.

Whoever killed Bert, seems they stole a body

and I want to know why. Lights, please.

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

We need to get a match for this shoe size.

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

-Why not?

-Well, it's off limits.

It's nursing staff only.

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

I don't think so.

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

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

Well, did the boss also tell you

to beat the living daylights out of him?

So who else are you going to beat up?

Are you going to throw a punch at me?

-It's complicated.

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

Mattie.

Be quick.

Mattie?

-Mattie O'Brien?

-Ron.

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

-What did they do to your face?

-They think I killed someone.

I didn't do it.

I need to ask you something.

You don't believe me.

I need some answers. Is that OK?

Yeah.

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

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

Did you see anything there? Anything suspicious?

No.

-Was anyone else there?

-No.

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

-I really...

-One more thing.

-What size shoe are you?

-What?

What size shoe?

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

Excuse me.

What are you doing?

Mattie?

He's the same boot size.

You do realise that life was a lot simpler

when your father was here?

So people keep telling me.

I really thought this wouldn't fit Ron Jackson.

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

You still thinking Gordon McRae?

People saw him skulking around the hospital.

We searched his place.

Apparently, he's been knocking off hospital blankets.

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

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

Yes.

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

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

Probably.

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

Listen, are you still looking for that deserter?

Well, the Army's handling it.

We're just here to add local colour.

Yes.

Do you think there's anything in the fact

that originally they were looking for two deserters

and now it's just the one?

Bloody hell, Blake, don't go there.

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

So what are you going to do?

I'm going to leave Ron Jackson in the hospital

and Gordon McRae in a cell.

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

and not think about it till after the parade.

I suggest you do the same.

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

Well? Where's the body?

Lesions leave marks.

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

KNOCKS ON DOOR

Yes?

Mrs Clements, I know what's wrong.

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

All classic symptoms of radiation sickness.

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

Please, your husband is desperately ill.

The man he deserted with has died already

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

-No.

Mrs Clements...

I'm an ex-serviceman.

I give you my word, my word.

I'll look after him.

I've been so scared.

I thought the Army might come looking in the house.

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

-We're not.

-Well, that's what saved you.

Hey, Jimmy.

Doctor's here now.

Hello, Jimmy.

Jimmy, I'm Dr Lucien Blake...

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

All right?

Yeah.

Good man.

MUSIC PLAYS FROM RADIO IN OTHER ROOM

Yes?

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

Oh.

-May I...?

-Of course, yeah.

Thank you.

Um...

-How did the interview go?

-Fine.

Fine?

Yes, it's a lovely building

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

-And they'll treat you well?

-Apparently.

Good.

Good. Um...

-May I...?

-Oh, yes.

Thank you.

Uh, look, I've...

I've had some time to think,

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

..and the truth is...

probably not.

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

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

Right.

How do I...?

What I do need is help.

A blind eye every now and then,

a damned good talking to at other times.

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

-Confusing?

-Yes.

Yes.

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

With me, it will always be...

somewhat messier.

-So you're trying to say that...

-Yes, I...

-Yes.

-Yes.

You said you needed some help?

Yes.

What can you tell me about the Royal Cross Hotel?

-Rather grand, isn't it?

-Yes, it is.

Keys are at the porter's desk.

-Right. Well, good luck.

-You too.

Better make yourself scarce, eh?

-Derek!

-There you are.

Lucien. What the devil?

We were interrupted earlier.

Come and sit down.

Hannam's welcome to join us, of course.

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

Nonsense. I insist.

You always were a pushy beggar. Come on.

Derek, I've been thinking about your offer.

Coming back into the fold.

I might call it a night, sir.

-Of course.

-Sergeant, stay, please. I insist.

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

A toast, eh?

To soldiers.

All soldiers, past and present.

Hear, hear.

'About those bombs of yours in the desert, Derek.'

They're not MY bombs, Lucien.

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

Of course, sir.

You want to set off nuclear warheads in our country?

We're honoured.

Anything we can do to help, eh?

Strange coincidence, though.

I had a woman come into my surgery today,

claiming all manner of symptoms.

Hair loss, skin lesions, nausea.

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

Completely absurd, I know.

And, of course, she was making the whole thing up.

Wouldn't even let me take bloods.

-Who was she?

-Oh, just some patient of mine.

I suspect she's read about the tests

and now she thinks she's poisoned.

Some people, eh?

Was there a name?

Yes, now, um...

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

Well, part of our role is public education.

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

Are you?

Well, I'm sure I have her details,

-address, back at the surgery.

-Good.

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

Dawn service and all of that.

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

-to give you a lift home.

-Certainly. Thank you.

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

We'll see her first thing after the parade.

Put her mind at rest.

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

Whenever you're ready, sir.

-Derek.

-Lucien.

You sleep well.

Thank you, Sergeant.

-Interesting.

-What's that, sir?

Left-handed.

That's right. Why?

No particular reason.

Just surprised they didn't beat that out of you in school.

They tried, sir.

Sergeant.

Right. Now, that address.

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

Shall I help you look for it, sir?

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

Probably won't find it there, Sergeant.

Of course.

-Any luck?

-Not yet, no.

I'll keep looking.

You might want to take your gloves off, Sergeant.

I gather, from all accounts...

..radiation sickness is a terrible way to die.

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

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

I beg your pardon, sir?

It's interesting, isn't it?

One blow to the throat was all it took

to kill that morgue attendant.

Ah, is that it?

No.

Bugger, I'll keep looking.

The Major would like that address, sir.

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

The man you killed had his throat crushed by a single blow.

A blow delivered by a left-handed punch.

The blood and tissue under his fingernails was his own.

He clawed his own throat trying to breathe.

And, yes, you were very careful, Sergeant.

You even managed to mop the floor...

That address, SIR.

Oh, for God's sake, Sergeant.

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

it might be your body rotting from radiation

that has to be stolen from a morgue?

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

-No, I don't.

-Let him go.

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

Are you prepared for that?

My Christopher was a Sergeant too. This is his pistol.

But he died in the Solomons.

I wonder what he'd make of you.

HE PANTS

HE COUGHS

Thank you, Jean.

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

You understand, Sergeant, that these boots which we found

in your hotel still have traces

of Albert Prentice's blood on them?

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

They also match the boot print found in the morgue

next to the locker

from which you stole the body of persons unknown.

Do you have anything to say about that?

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

We also retrieved from your possessions this page,

which you tore from the mortuary log

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

Not all of this is your responsibility, Sergeant.

You were following orders.

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

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

you took from the morgue.

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

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

KNOCK ON DOOR DOOR OPENS

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

Are you quite sure?

I understand the forensic evidence for murder is conclusive.

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

Has Sergeant Hannam made any admissions?

No.

Is there anything else you'd like to add to the record?

Well, I'd like to express my complete disapproval

of the Sergeant's actions.

Of course, you understand, Superintendent,

this will now become a matter for a military tribunal.

I'll inform my superiors.

I'll take it from here.

Interesting times, Lucien.

Depressingly familiar.

Soldiers being used and then simply thrown away.

Where have we seen and heard that before?

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

For who? Servicemen dying of radiation poisoning?

Sergeant Hannam being thrown to the wolves?

It doesn't get any bigger for them.

Small-town life has made you soft, Lucien.

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

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

and what have we learned?

'Come in.'

G'day.

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

-Thanks.

-No worries.

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

Sorry, mate.

-Good morning.

-And to you.

You look a little tired.

-And you look very smart.

-Oh!

Um...

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

No. I like to be useful.

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

Did, uh...

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

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

Ah.

After last night?

I am sorry. I, um...

Actually...

Actually, I'm rather glad.

It's good to see Christopher's medals.

You could wear yours too, Lucien.

March well today.

MILITARY DRUM BAND PLAYS

G'day, Gary.

G'day, Bill! How are ya?

Cec.

Gentlemen.

-What's this for?

-I, um...

Thank you.

I thought you and your mates might enjoy a drink.

Thank you, Lucien.

My pleasure, Cec.

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd