Foyle's War

Good morning.

Excuse me. Miss Pierce?

Yes?

I don't suppose you remember me.

No.

I didn't think you would.

This is for Elise.

Let me introduce you to Damian White,

a thoroughly nasty piece of work.

Started life as a spiv...

eggs, cigarettes, petrol, all the rest of it.

Since then he's branched out and now runs a criminal network

that extends the length and breadth of this country.

Can't the police arrest him?

Apparently they can't touch him.

He hides behind a legitimate business selling luxury goods.

I still wouldn't have thought the black market

was our business.

Well, then you'd be wrong.

If people like White are allowed to carry on,

they're going to end up bankrupting the country.

And this moment,

there are a million forged petrol coupons in circulation.

£13 million worth of goods are stolen from delivery trucks

in one year alone.

We are not talking about a few pairs of silk stockings.

This is organized crime and on a massive scale.

Are the interests in him in particular?

Earlier this month, Mr. White bought himself

a golf club out in Surrey,

which will give you some idea as to his wealth.

Here's one of the members.

Kuznetsov. That's Kuznetsov.

Exactly.

Well, can it be a coincidence?

I don't think so.

Special Branch passed this on to us,

and I believe we should make it a priority.

The black market is one thing,

but cozying up to Soviet agents is quite another.

I mean, they're playing golf together, for heaven's sake.

- Sir. - Mrs. Wainwright?

What on earth do you think you're doing?

I'm sorry, sir. It's Miss Pierce.

He was young. I'd say about 26.

Dark hair. Clean shaven.

He asked her if she remembered him.

And then he said, "This is for Elise," and he shot her.

- Why weren't you with her? - I was holding the door.

What about the driver? Where was he while all this was going on?

He dropped her off around the corner.

She often did that.

She liked to get a bit of fresh air.

I want a written report.

Yes, sir.

Who's Elise?

No one at Security Service. Well, no one that I know of.

Code name, perhaps.

There's a thought.

Hospital, please.

We've removed the bullets,

but I'm afraid to say she still hasn't recovered consciousness.

Will she?

I can't tell.

The truth is, I'm amazed she's hung on this far...

that kind of an impact, close range.

Excuse me.

Better put somebody on the door just in case he tries again.

I want you to find him, the bastard that did this.

God knows I've had my differences with her,

but that woman is extraordinary.

Throughout the war, SOE now.

She's given her life to the Service.

Nothing could stop her.

Not even two bullets.

- Exactly. - Are you in charge?

- Sorry. You are? - Woodhead.

How is Miss Pierce?

They've operated, but they can't tell yet.

What do you know about this?

I was just about to ask you the same question.

Don't be impertinent with me. You're in the Service?

Yes, sir.

I understand she was shot in the street.

How could you have allowed that to happen?

And why isn't there a guard on her door?

You know who that was?

Sir Ian Woodhead. MI6, director of operations.

Not someone to get on the wrong side of.

Well, a bit late for me, I think.

SOE?

Very much so.

If you'd like to follow me,

Miss Pierce's flat is on the second floor.

Is this it? Somehow I was expecting more.

Well, single, married to the job.

Not much of a private life, I wouldn't have thought.

What are we looking for?

No idea.

We've only got one name... Elise... and a man in his 20s.

Not much to be getting on with.

That's why we're here.

Didn't she ever eat anything?

This might be a reasonable place to start.

Special Forces Club?

Yes. A club for SOE and, uh, intelligence.

Will they be able to help, do you think?

If they'll let us in.

I'm very sorry, sir. I can't help you.

Hilda Pierce is a member here.

I'm afraid I can't tell you that.

You don't need to. I'm telling you.

She's a member here.

What is your business with Miss Pierce?

I'm trying to find out who shot her.

Miss Pierce? She's been shot?

That's right. This morning.

For God's sake, Kenton. Let them in.

I'll sign for them.

As you wish, Mr. Stafford.

Miss Pierce. Hilda.

Of course I knew her.

Everyone did.

She used to pop in now and then. My section... MIR.

Weapons, time-delay fuses, limpet mines, sticky bombs.

That's what we did.

We made devices that kill people,

and we did it rather well.

I can talk to you, can't I?

I think we're on the same side.

SOE... Special Operations Executive.

Who even remembers it?

End of the war, they threw us to the wolves.

Gubbins, Jefferies, the whole lot of us.

One minute it's top secret, cloak and dagger.

The next you're a bank clerk or you've opened a shop.

Or you're lounging about in here.

Elise... Is that a name that means anything to you?

Not offhand.

Was she one of Hilda's girls?

Could be.

Trouble is, all the girls had different names then,

in training and in the field.

I can ask around for you if you like.

I'd be grateful.

Do you know what the life expectancy

of an operator was back then?

Six bloody weeks.

Here's to them, eh?

Don't you worry about it, Archie.

I'll see you at the Blue Lantern.

You look after yourself. Ta-ra.

Mr. White?

Derek! Come in. Take a pew.

Nice to see you.

It's been a while.

You been avoiding me?

No. No. Not at all.

It's all right, Neville. You can leave us now.

Go and get yourself something down at the bar.

You play golf, Derek?

No.

You should come and try a round.

Bring your lovely wife.

Doris, isn't it?

No, it's Doreen.

And those kids of yours.

- 6 and 9? - That's it.

The thing is, Derek, you and I have a business arrangement.

You give me the information,

and every month I give you remuneration.

It couldn't be simpler, really.

Except you seem to be letting the side down.

Well, I haven't had any big runs recently,

so I haven't been getting in touch with you.

That's not what I've heard.

I've heard you're going out tomorrow from Redhill.

Half a million fags. That's what I've heard.

I only found out last night.

I didn't have enough time to get in touch with you.

Don't you worry.

That's why I invited you over.

A nice cup of char together.

A chat about old times.

And you can tell me.

What's the route?

- Hello. - Hello.

What's that?

Whale.

It's a new craving?

They say it tastes like beef.

It doesn't... smell like beef.

Yeah. That's what I thought.

You okay?

Just a twinge.

Sam, I think that you're going to have to talk to the...

Yes, I know.

Once they see that you're pregnant,

- you're not gonna be able... - I know.

Something happened at work today, Adam.