Stan Lee's Lucky Man

Is that really a magic bracelet?

It is. So you heard about Steve?

- He's requested a transfer. - She's gorgeous.

- What have you possibly got to complain about? - I'm not sure.

- That's the problem. - Do I kill people?

- Do you? - What does my police record say?

It's clean. Spotless. Almost artificially so.

My colleagues were telling me about this mad woman,

she jumped out in front of a car.

It's a miracle they didn't kill her, so they say.

Harry!

Is he dead?

- Do you trust me now? - I might be getting there.

The man who killed her children, what did she do to him?

She nailed him to a tree and slit his throat.

Woe betide anyone who crosses Isabella Augustine.

What do you call this?

A way to get your attention.

Torturing people?

That's the wrong way, Eve.

You needed to know.

Not from you,

not like this.

I can handle Isabella.

She's my problem.

That's because she's made herself your problem. That's what she does.

She's a wildcat, Harry. Play with her, you'll get bitten.

Well, then.

I'll have to bite back.

Intercept the localiser runway two eight right.

Cleared ILS two eight right.

Right, ladies and gentlemen,

the seatbelt sign's now has been switched off.

So, if you'd like to start gathering your things

we'll have you disembarked in a jiffy.

- OK, final honeymoon video. - Yay! We made it home.

Hi, guys. We're just back from honeymoon. Had an amazing time...

Oh, here we go.

Good evening... argh!

- What the... - Oh, fuck!

Well, well, well, if it isn't MIS's very own welterweight champion.

Please go on joking about my anger issues.

- I'm gonna get suspended. - What?

Winter gave me an official warning.

If Cartmell's solicitor presses assault charges,

DPS will have no choice.

I shouldn't have let this happen.

I lost control. And I don't do that! I don't.

Hey, I still have to have my debrief.

I'll talk to the DPS, smooth things over.

Ah, there'll be no talking and smoothing of things.

I'm going to keep my head down and stay far away from trouble.

I pray for a world where that's possible, DS Chohan.

Unfortunately, you're needed.

Flight E307 from Oslo landed just under four hours ago.

Jesus Christ!

We're still assessing the scene.

Apparently, bullet wipes around the wounds

indicate the shooter used a silenced pistol.

Is this a terrorist attack?

Doesn't seem likely.

Not messy or loud enough, and so far no one's claimed it.

Wait a minute. "He"? This was the work of one person?

Yep. Got him right here.

- He was dressed as ground crew. - What's in the bag, I wonder?

Well, the passengers' hand luggage has all been gone through.

He acted alone and killed without hesitation.

So who was he?

What'd he take?

A Norwegian import agent was on board

carrying wonds worth 30,000 euros.

And the backpack?

It doesn't feel right.

Would you break into an airport,

kill nine people for 30,000 euros in change?

Well, no.

So you think he was after something we don't know about.

_

_

- What about their phones? - All gone.

- Why would he take them? - Camera phones.

Didn't want to be seen.

Are we sure they're all...

You hear that? It was a phone, right?

Yeah.

Got you.

_

Come on, Dai! Chop chop. We wanna get a move on

if we're going to be on time for this...

I see.

- No, Mum, no, Mum... - Ah-ah-ah, what did I tell you?

Anything you watch in this house I get to watch.

Right, what is this?

It's real. Dad has superpowers.

Nobody's that lucky.

Look, watch it.

Dais, this is just...

- digitally manipulated nonsense. - No, it's Dad.

Thrown together by some basement-dwelling computer geek

- desperate for hits. - He can do things. He's told me he can.

Because Dad's going through a mid-life crisis.

- And imagining he's somehow special helps. - He knew you'd be like this.

- Daisy... - OK, fine.

You don't have to believe it,

but he puts himself in danger every day

and this is what helps him, Mum.

He used to have us, and now he's got this.

Aargh! Ugh!

Let me see, let me see.

They don't tell you that when you hit someone

it hurts you as much as the person you hit.

Hmmm. Oh, Jesus.

I wouldn't count on that.

OK.

Let me ask you something.

Why are you here?

Hm?

Why are you

in the police force?

I suppose I wanted to make a difference.

If you want to make a difference, join the Girl Guides.

We just saw nine dead bodies laid out.

Why are you really here?

- Because the world is a shitty place. - Right,

and how does that make you feel?

- Angry. - Exactly.

We're all angry. Me, you, Winter. Especially Winter.

That's why we're police.

You have to let it out. You do.

The secret is to know when.

Draw a line. Anyone steps over it,

you give 'em a good kick in the bollocks.

And that'll stop me getting suspended?

No.

But it'll make you feel a lot better.

Fine. When do I give you yours?

- What, you owe me one, do you? - Five, I'd say.

At least five.

Oh, listen, um, I need to take this.

- Isabella, hi. - Hello, stranger.

You've been hard to reach.

Work. Busy. You know how it is.

I haven't heard from you in days.

Besides, I seem to remember saving your life,

which in my book means you owe me dinner at Nobu.

Harry?

Uh, I'm sorry, I've gotta go.

Jurgen Bloch, 47.

South African national.

Started out in private military companies in the Congo and Angola,

then progressed to personal contracts.

Interpol has a file on him

that reads like a Tom Clancy's Big Book of Ideas.

Hong Kong.

Prague.

Mexico City.

All high-profile, high-casualty hits.

Eight years ago he was linked to a car bombing on the Amalfi coast.

Then the trail went cold.

Bloch's been a ghost up until three days ago,

When Dutch police photographed him at Schiphol Airport.

So Flight E307 was a hit.

But why kill everybody on board if you've got a specific target?

Well...

nothing like a bit of chaos to keep us busy.

We've got our hands full with nine bodies.

We don't see that Bloch had a particular target,

but why does he go to all that effort

to keep that target hidden?

Because he has a second target connected to the first.

Exactly. He's planning another hit.

Soon.

Get on to Pathology.

Tell them to look for any aberrations in the victims' wound patterns.

Anything that suggests a target.

What was that mark on his neck?

- Tattoo? - No.

That's not a tattoo.

That's a scar.

Tell me more about how Isabella's children died.

- Can't it wait? I'm going to dinner. - I brought dinner.

You're staying and you're talking.

- They're somewhere in Italy. - Yeah, Salerno on the Amalfi coast.

Eight years ago, local Mafia took a contract out

on a judge who picked a fight.

- Are you telling me or am I telling you? - I'm sorry, but detail is important.

The hit man obviously had a taste for the dramatic

'cause he put too much plastique under Mr. Judge's motor,

took out two cars either side of him

and Isabella Augustine's perfect life is over.

But she didn't let it lie.

She went after him with everything she had,

caught up with him in Morocco.

Ran him off the road just outside Rabat.

OK, and what did she do, Eve?

She nailed him to a tree by the palms of his hands,

cut his throat and left him there to die.

And the killer's name?

What was the killer's name Eve?

It's Bloch.