Foyle's War

Rembrandt died on the 4th October 1669...

and in his last self portraits, I think you see a sense of calm

and of resignation.

He had known so much turmoil and personal unhappiness,

but at the end he found an acceptance.

It was, perhaps, a triumph of art over life.

Thank you, ladies and gentlemen.

We will be visiting Kenwood House on Tuesday.

There are still places left.

So please let me know if you wish to come.

Professor Van Haaren. My dissertation -

I was wondering if - The portrait of Jan Six?

Yes. I'm half way.

Some interesting insights.

We will talk next week.

Thank you.

No.

No. No. No. No. No.

You all right?

Come on. You all right?

How are you? I'm fine.

No bones broken. Are you sure, really?

Thank you. All right. Take it easy.

Thank you. Sorry.

Come in, Foyle.

I'm in a quandary. I don't much like it

and I doubt you will either, but I inherited it

and there's not much I can do about it.

It needs tact. Pieter Van Haaren.

Dutch, educated at the University of Leiden.

Expert on Dutch art, particularly Rubens and Rembrandt,

now a lecturer in London.

That's the cover.

And the reality?

Karl Strasser. Nazi.

SS Brigadefuhrer Karl Strasser

was a desk soldier in SS Foreign Intelligence.

Arrested in Denmark at the end of the war.

Since then, he has been an extremely valuable intelligence asset

with an almost unrivalled knowledge of Soviet spy networks.

It's in the file. Mm-hm.

He believes that he's in danger.

Says someone is planning to kill him.

Well, as a Nazi officer in Postwar Britain, is he surprised?

Up to now, his cover's held. He lives in a boarding house -

privately owned but controlled by us.

In fact, his entire life is carefully regulated.

But he keeps his head down. As far as we can tell,

no-one even suspects that he's German.

So? Read the file. Meet him.

Assess the situation, let me know what you think.

It would be annoying to have to move him and change his name,

but if there really is any danger, we can't afford to lose him.

I see.

And don't let your personal feelings get in the way.

He was, after all, a senior German officer -

you may not like him. You may be right.

Indeed. Unfortunately, we need him.

They're smoking fags. They're rude.

Half of them don't even go to school

and nobody's doing anything about it.

Well, that's not quite true, Mrs Jones.

We've looked into this and the report by Dame Myra Curtis

will be published very soon. It's all very well having reports.

But I don't feel safe going out of the house.

Well, I'll talk to the police

and we'll see if we can get some more officers on the beat.

The trouble is, nobody has any respect anymore.

I'll see what I can do.

This way, Mrs Jones. Thank you, dear.

Can we talk to the superintendent? I'll make a note,

but she was complaining about the police last week, so er...

Anyone else? One more.

He's not a constituent, so you don't have to see him.

Geoffrey Helliwell. He's come up from Devizes.

Wiltshire? I know. Bit of a hike.

Well, show him in.

Mr Helliwell, has somebody offered you some tea?

I don't want tea, thank you all the same.

Then how can I help you? I want back what is mine.

There was a compulsory purchase order in 1938.

The farm house, the land, the whole works.

The RAF needed it - 1,000 acres for bombing practice.

Well, it was the war. I didn't argue.

I was glad to do my bit. But I made it very clear.

It was only for the duration, then I'd buy it back.

That's what we agreed. I wrote to you, Mr Helliwell.

As I understand it, the land had risen in value.

Doubled in value. In eight years? That's not possible.

There must have been an independent valuation.

How independent was it? That's what I want to know.

Your a minister, Mr Roper, won't tell me.

Why is he hiding behind you? You need to understand,

this is a local surgery for issues relating to West Peckham.

That's what they all say. Not my business!

Mr Helliwell. Where are you staying?

Kensington. Maythorpe Hotel.

I'll talk to Mr Roper. I'm sure it's more straightforward than you think.

You lot think you can get away with this, but let me tell you,

I know there's something dirty going on. I can smell it.

Well, thank you very much, Mrs Wainwright,

and I'll see you next Wednesday.

We'll have the results of your tests by then.

And in the meantime, you look after yourself.

Thank you, Doctor. Miss Browne? Hello, Doctor.

Hello. How was it?

I'm sorry? The dentist.

Yes. Absolutely fine, sir.

All in order.

Good. How's Adam? Busy.

Enjoying it? Well, he is.

Truth is, I hardly see him now that he's become a private secretary.

I always used to tell him about my work.

These days, I feel if I open my mouth I'll get arrested.

Well, he'd understand that, wouldn't he?

He doesn't even notice.

He's got the minister, his party manager, constituents.

He hardly has any time left for me.

So what is this place? A nest of spies?

Yep. But they're our spies.

Well, that's all right, then.

Yes?

Good morning. I'm looking for a Professor Van Haaren.

He's not here. If you want to see the professor,

you should come back when the library's closed. I see.

Yes. He likes his books, the professor.

Old paintings and painters. Can't see the fascination myself.

Who shall I say called? My name's Foyle.

He can reach me any time on this number.

And what's this about?

He doesn't get that many visitors, Herr Van Haaren.

Likes to keep himself to himself. Know what I mean?

You'll find he's expecting me.

Right. How many people live here?

Three tenants. Three rooms. If you're looking for somewhere,

I'm afraid you're out of luck. No, no. Just wondering.

Just nosey. I don't mean to be rude but we're not very sociable here.

It's just the way we are.

Do tell him I called.

If I see him, I'll let him know.

Professor Van Haaren? I bet that's not his real name.

Why do you say that? I don't know.

I suppose I don't trust anyone anymore.

Does that include me?

You and Adam are about the only people I do trust.

Did you notice there was someone watching you?

What was all that?

He said his name was Foyle.

I know. I heard.

What does he want?

This phone number's Leconfield House.

I wonder if they know.

Know what? About you and the professor.

How would they know about that? Unless you told them.

I'm on your side, Brenda. We both want the same thing.

And what's that? We want him dead.

Mutinies? They're not mutinies, they're strikes!

You can't go shooting members of the Royal Air Force.

The grievance is real! Thank you, Adam.

Anything else? I've got a briefing. Actually, there is one thing.

I had a visit at my surgery from a Geoffrey Helliwell.

Helliwell?

Helliwell. From Devizes. Man with the land.

Without the land - he wants it back. What's this?

To sign.

I had a look at the original contract.

The agreement to buy back was at the current market value.

And it was assessed by the local district valuer.

George Gibson. You've been into the files?

I thought I should take a look. You don't mind? No, not at all.

You can go round to his hotel and buy him a drink if you like.

You'll be wasting your time.

The land isn't with this department anymore.

It was transferred to Ag and Fish. Could we do that?

Absolutely. And right now, maximising food production

is this country's number one priority.

Practically an emergency. I don't need to tell you that.

Yes, sir. Sorry.

Do you want me to write to him?

No, minister. I'm sorry. There's really no need.

Right, in that case, concentrate on these strikes.

The fact is, I'm inclined to sympathise.

We really should be bringing back

these pilots and aircrew from Karachi and Delhi now

before this whole thing blows up in our faces.

I'm a loan voice, of course.

Adam. Problems?

All right, mate?

So, you pulled Strasser. Bad luck.

Do you know him?

Not really. You should talk to Miss Pierce. He was one of hers.

Well, doesn't surprise me. He helped break up Red Five.

And what's that? Oh, it's a Soviet network

operating mainly out of Sweden, but it had its supporters here.

I can pull out some files for you if you like.

Thank you. Did you ever meet him?

I was in the same room but we didn't speak.

He was a big noise

in the counterintelligence service of the Sicherheitsdienst.

Formidable knowledge of Soviet spy technique.