Special Correspondents

[people chattering indistinctly over radio]

We've got a homicide, possibly gang-related.

York Hotel.

Yeah, copy that, Control. 10-4.

York Hotel, as quick as you can.

Thanks, sweetie.

Hey, Frank, how about a freebie?

Thanks.

- -

- Detective Crankovich. - Sorry, Detective...?

Mankovich. Frank. Frank Mankovich. Detective.

Don't let anybody through, especially the press.

- Detective Hankovich. - Detective.

Hey, we're part of the investigation. Detective Frank Wankovich.

Detective Claire Lady. What happened here?

I already told all your colleagues everything.

Well, you can tell me again, then.

Well, I was by reception and a man came in, and he was wearing a helmet

and he had a gun with a silencer.

Mm-hm. And then?

Well, he pointed the gun at Mr. Ivanov

and shouted something in Russian, I think.

Then he shot him.

- What did he look like? - Bonneville.

Superintendent.

I'm not disturbing you, I hope, Bonneville?

Oh. Not at all.

Oh. Claire Maddox, Perry, head of homicide.

- Hi. - Get out of here. Both of you.

Right now. Or I'll slap you in custody.

- Wait, you're not a detective? - No.

My name is Frank, though. This wasn't all a lie.

We had some good times, right?

- Detective, a comment, please? - Okay, let them through.

- Hey. What? What are you doing? - He said let them through.

- You don't let anybody through. - Oh.

Oh, I've gotta go, darling.

- Get me the control room. - They're on.

- Hey. - So, you got a story, Frank?

"Russian Mafia Wars." How's that sound?

Okay. Let's do it now.

Standing by. And you're on.

At 8:45, Sergei Ivanov, a.k.a. Three Fingers,

a figure in the Russian Mafia, left his room at the York Hotel.

He'd just breakfasted on eggs, toast, and a black coffee. His last breakfast.

The sumptuous lifestyle and escapades of Sergei Ivanov,

mover and shaker in the nightclubs of Manhattan and New Jersey...

Two minutes in the hotel and he comes out with a story.

- A true artist. He's the best. - He's certainly the best at what he does.

...a war that has only just begun. This is Frank Bonneville, 365 News.

That was great.

- You need any help? - No, I'm fine. Won't be a minute.

"Darling."

- Who was that, then, your girlfriend? - I'm married.

Ah.

So, it's his wife.

- Yeah. - Eh! He's a player.

- Aren't you, Finch? Huh? -

- Chick in every port? - Nah.

Oh.

- You okay? - Yeah, fine.

You want a coffee?

Yeah, can I get a skim-milk latte?

- You on a diet? - A bit, yeah.

I had a medical, and apparently I'm 25 percent fat.

- Is that bad? - Yeah. It's more than some snacks.

Ooh!

- Okay. - See you later.

There he is.

Huh?

Look at you.

First reporter with the story, again.

All other journalists banned from the site.

Ha!

Oh, no, wait. What are these?

"Impersonating an officer." "Tampering with a crime scene."

- I got results. - You're not Dirty Harry!

At best, you're an underachiever at a local radio station.

Often, a drunk underachiever.

- Would you rather I didn't get the story? - Than break the law? Yeah.

Why break the law? Plenty of news without having to break the law.

If you run out, make up a story about a lost dog.

I made up a story about being a detective.

One more slip-up and you're fired. This is coming from upstairs, not from me.

They've had it. They don't need this anymore.

You're an arrogant, selfish hack who survives

because everyone thinks you're a local celebrity.

I can't fire you because I don't like you.

But I can fire you if you break the law

or for the next thing you do that breaks the rules.

I so much as find out you used a disabled toilet, goodbye.

- That's ridiculous. - Yeah, it's ridiculous.

Go ahead, punk, make my day.

- Will there be any celebrities? - The girl who reads the weather

- knows Al Roker. - Will he be here?

No. She might, though.

Hey, Sacha. This is my wife, Eleanor.

- Oh, finally. Hi. - Hi.

- Many in? - Uh, no. No, you're the first.

- Someone has to be. - Exactly.

And it's nice to be here in time to see the staff prepare

for such a prestigious event.

See you later. Okay, let's get in.

- Hi. - Hi.

Hi.

- Balloons. - It's still sunny out.

Well, it's nearly July, isn't it?

- Doesn't get dark till 9:00. - Imagine going out in the darkness.

- You're the first here. - Yeah, he doesn't like to be late.

- Champagne? - Don't mind if I do.

There you go. Ah.

Mm.

So, what do you think of my little radio station event?

Well, I mean, if it was really your radio station, it would be something.

- Well, I'm chief sound engineer. -

And if you consider that radio is just sound,

I'm sort of chief engineer, really.

In one of the biggest local radio stations around. Locally.

It's just not what I thought you'd still be doing at 50.

- What do you mean? - Radio.

- Radio is like... - It's what I love.

Yeah, but it's just not very exciting.

- You're joking. - No, I'm not joking. But go on, tell me.

What is the most exciting thing that's happened this week?

- Okay. Um... - Okay.

- Well, you decide. - Okay.

Is it that our omnibus podcast just made top 50 on iTunes?

Ooh.

Or, is it that Jamie Oliver popped in yesterday

- to talk to Stig Arnold about fat kids? - Is he gonna be here?

- Stig's never missed a party yet. Heh. - I meant Jamie Oliver.

Who knows?

- So, no, then? - No. Definitely not.

- - You meet Stig.

You won't want to see Jamie Oliver after you've met Stig.

Sorry.

Haven't you ever wanted to do something extraordinary?

- Finch. - Hi.

Um, this is Geoffrey Mallard, the radio boss.

- This is my wife, Eleanor. - Pleasure to meet you.

I've been looking for you. Some lunatic took his family hostage.

He's armed. I need you and Claire to go and cover it.

- Now? - Yeah, I don't have a choice.

You're the only guy around.

- Where is Claire? - She's on her way here. Nice to meet you.

Okay, I'm so sorry, darling.

No, no, no, you're not leaving me here. I don't know anyone.

I don't have a choice. He said I'm the only guy that can do this.

- He said you're the only guy around. - He didn't literally mean

I'm the only guy around. He meant I'm the only guy around that can do this.

- He's around, he couldn't do it. - You don't know that.

- Oh, come on. Look at him. - You can't do this to me. Come on.

- Shh. - "Shh!"

No. You know what? Forget it. I'm going home.

Please don't. Don't, please. Just wait here and enjoy yourself

and I'll whiz back, and then we'll have a...

- You're gonna be gone for hours. - No.

In these situations the police usually get the gunman to the window really quickly

and shoot him through the top lip, and that takes out the brain stem,

so there's no reflex... action.

- Hi. - Did you see Mallard?

Yeah. Oh, uh, this is Claire Maddox. This is my wife, Eleanor.

- Nice to meet you. - Yeah.

- We should go. - Yeah.

- See you in the lobby. - Yeah, okay.

Who's this? Is this Tony? Look at this guy.

- Anyway... - How are you?

- I've gotta go. - Okay, fine, go.

- Yeah? - Whatever.

You'll be all right?

- I'll see you soon. Okay. - Okay, go if you're gonna go.

- Hey, Frank. - Hey.

- Hi. - Hey.

Did you see Frank arrive, acting like he thinks he's James Bond?

Yeah. I think he's really cool. He doesn't care about anything.

- - Oh.

- How is that cool? - Hi.

- Hi. - Oh...

I don't know, I just...

- I just mean... -

I think it would be cool to be like that sometimes, you know?

I care about everything, and I try my best,

but nothing much seems to happen. It's because I'm boring.

- Why do you say that? - Because it's true.

I... I've never done anything extraordinary.

I think that's why I play video games.

Because they're more interesting than my real life.

- Rebel Coup? - Yeah. Do you play?

- I'm trying to cut down. - Yeah, me, too.

- Take that, sucker. - Nice move.

Mr. Bonneville. I love your work.

- Champagne? - Thank you. Cheers.

You're the Frank Bonneville?

- Apparently. - I listen to you every day.

- Really? - I wouldn't miss it.

- Thank you. - You're welcome.

Mm.

Alone?

- Yeah. - Me, too.

It's a lonely life, radio.