"A little girl goes missing." "The pack salivates." "If it bleeds, it leads, right?" "Eddie Dunford, Crime Correspondent, back home to take the North." "Business first." "Dad won't mind waiting." "Edward." "Sorry to hear about your father." "Thank you, Mr Hadley." "He had a good innings, eh?" "This is Detective Superintendent Jobson." "Oh, right." "Pleasure, sir." "Pleasure to meet you." "Mr Dunford's hoping to be the Post's new Crime Correspondent." "I always got along well with Jack Whitehead..." "Good old Jack, eh?" "He'll be standing in for a trial period." "All right." "Pleasure to meet you and...er..." "To work." "Is he a local lad?" "Cut his teeth on our Yorkshire Post." "But he's been down South." "Young Turk, then, eh?" "Made a pig's ear of it from what I understand." "Given him a month to prove himself." "So, where's Whitehead?" "Jack?" "On the piss probably." "Don't worry, son, you got your legs well under the table." "Just do the job." "I know." "Fuck him." "He's not getting in on this one." "Yeah, funeral's in two hours." "It's going to be tight." "We'll make it." "Aye up, Owl's on." "Gentlemen, we'll keep this brief." "At 4.00pm yesterday evening, 3rd September, Clare Kemplay disappeared on her way home from Morley Grange Junior and Infants." "Clare is ten years old." "She was wearing a red anorak, grey school uniform, and red Wellington boots." "Mrs Kemplay would now like to read a short statement." "Thank you." "Poor cow." "I know, do you reckon Dad did it?" "I'd like to appeal to anyone who knows where my Clare is or who saw her after yesterday teatime to please contact the police." "Clare is a very happy girl... ..and I know she would just... never just run off without telling me." "Please, if you know where she is..." "Please, she's..." "Sorry..." "All right, lads, that's your lot." "Oh, oh, darling." "Mum." "I'm sorry." "I'm really sorry I'm late." ""Business before pleasure," he always said." "She means Dad." "Remember dad?" "He were Yorkshire's finest tailor, William was." "He was a good lad, your dad." "You knew where you were with him." "Reliable." "Well, now! "Edward Dunford, North of England Crime Correspondent." ""Mrs Sandra Kemplay made an emotional plea this morning..."" ""Did you write that, love?" "Our new Byline Boy, is Eddie." "You'll be wanting his autograph next." "He'll always be Little Eddie to me." "It's a step up, lad." "Pity your dad's not here to see it." "Hey, is that one of his?" "This, er, no." "This is Lord John, Carnaby Street." "Oh, aye." "It doesn't look good, does it?" "This Kemplay lass." "24 hours and not a thing." "There's been a couple now, haven't there?" "Yeah." "Wasn't there a lass, from Rochdale?" "There was one not long ago, in Castleford." "Yeah, Jeanette Garland." "Never found her, neither." "Didn't they?" "Hear them wheels..." "They never caught no-one." "Never do, though, do they?" "Eh up, Jock, how are you?" "You all right?" "You all right?" "Good to see you." "Yeah, I'm good." "The prodigal returns!" "Eddie!" "Here to shee the old man, Mish Moneypenny." "Didn't cut it down south, then?" "Funny(!" ")" "So, sir, if I could get your attention." "We have three missing girls." "They're all aged between eight and ten." "1969, 1972..." "and then the day before yesterday and they all go missing within miles of one another, sir." "This could be the A34 Murders all over again." "Oh, do let's hope so, eh, Mr Dunford?" "Fingers crossed, eh." "I were being sarcastic, Edward." "Sorry." "Have you spoken to Jack Whitehead about this?" "No." "No, this is my story, isn't it, Mr Hadley?" "Spot The Ball." "It's the reason 39% of working-class males buy this paper." "That's interesting..." "You honestly think so?" "What?" "About working class males?" "Do you think it could be the same man?" "Yes, sir." "Yes, I do." "Right." "I'll fix you up with a one to one first thing in the morning with DCS Molloy." "Bill Molloy suspects itinerants." "Gypsies..." "Oh!" "Oh, well, of course he does." "Now, don't push him, lad." "This paper enjoys a good relationship with our newly amalgamated Police Force and I for one would like to keep it that way." "Of course, sir, of course." "Good." "You really want to have a go at these, Edward." "They'd be right up your street." "Thank you, sir, I will." "Edward." "Yep?" "Don't cock it up, eh?" "Unbelievable!" "They'd hacked fucking swan's wings off." "Clean off!" "Left poor bastard lying there..." "You're joking!" "Still alive apparently." "Eddie, how'd it go with Hadley?" "He's not convinced." "Usual bollocks." "Don't cause a fuss." "Right." "One thing's for sure." "They're linked all right." "I know it." "Yeah, but linked how?" "Everything's linked, Eddie." "Show me two things that aren't." "Stoke City and the fucking championship." "Come here." "Eddie, it's a conspiracy." "We've got MI5 keeping an eye on our Harold." "Mountbatten waiting in the wings with a military junta..." "Bollocks." "There are Death Squads out there." "They give them a taste in Northern Ireland, bring 'em back home hungry." "Fuck off." "Death Squads!" "Every city has its Death Squads." "Sentence first, evidence after." "I'll steer well clear of Wakey County Council Death Squad then..." "You can laugh." "I will!" "Why not work Watergate in too, while you're about it?" "Death Squads, Barry?" "Come on, you're losing it, mate." "Oh, shit..." "What?" "Oh, you're a lucky man, Dunford." "Mr Gannon?" "BJ..." "In there." "You all right, fella?" "Fuckin' hell!" "Business." "Oh, I didn't think it were pleasure, did I?" "Oi?" "Having a nice time back up north?" "You know, Barry." "Gets a bit obtuse." "Obtuse?" "There's a big word for you." "How about you?" "How about me, what?" "You having a good time?" "Oh, I love being on my own in bars." "You weren't alone." "You could have come over." "I weren't invited." "Oh, poor baby." "Oh, I love you." "I love you, Eddie." "I've missed you, Eddie, love..." "Eddie..." "It's him." "Yeah?" "'Dunford?" "Thought you were a fucking journalist." "Start asking questions.'" "Who's is this?" "'You don't need to know." "'You interested in the Romany Way?" "'White vans and gypos.'" "Where?" "'Hunslet Beeston exit off the M1.'" "When?" "'Mischief Night came early." "'And you're late.'" "Someone had torched the whole fucking place." "It was like Vietnam or summat." "Bill Molloy's got it in for gypsies, hasn't he?" "You reckon it was the police?" "Their style." "That land's ear-marked - new John Dawson Development." "Here, don't be late, mate." "The Badger doesn't like newspaper men." "Into the lion's den you go." "Come on then, son, surprise me." "Well, Mr Molloy, sir." "I was wondering if there was any news on Clare Kemplay." "Nothing." "Sweet fuck all." "That poor lass is dead, son." "And Jeanette Garland, Susan Ridyard?" "There are some similarities there, eh?" "I was thinking about the A34 Murders, Cannock Chase..." "What the fuck do you know about Cannock Chase?" "Just that...it turned out it was the work of one man, wasn't it?" "And Jeanette Garland, Susan Ridyard and Clare Kemplay all go missing..." "You're not the first one to put that together, son." "You vain little twat." "My senile bloody aunty could." "You haven't got a story, son." "Best we find a body and quick." "Check the bins, see who's got themselves an early away-day." "Right." "Pull in the local gypos and Paddies." "Have we met before, son?" "No." "No, I don't think so." "Good." "You do your digging, and I'll do mine." "Now fuck off." "Hello, sir." "(Fuckin' plods!" ")" "Reporter, are you?" "That obvious, is it?" "Seen a few around here." "Ridyards' aren't in, love." "Oh, right." "Do you know when they'll be back?" "Gone away for a few days." "Can't blame them." "Brings it all back." "What with them finding that new one over in Fitzwilliam." "Sorry, what?" "Clare Kemplay." "They found her." "Just on news." "Dumped on a building site." "Eddie..." "Thanks for letting me know, love." "Fuck you, Eddie." "Jack Whitehead!" "Crime Reporter of the Year." "Fancy you being here." "Glad you could join us, Scoop." "Boss wants to see you ASAP." "Early bird and all that?" "!" "Is it true you like it up trap two from Jack?" "You're the one who's fucked, Scoop." "You couldn't be reached, so I sent for Jack." "So I'm off the story?" "Not at all, not at all." "Just sit down a minute, Edward." "Edward, park your arse, I want a word." "Look, I have a couple of other things I want you to follow up for me." "A favour." "What?" "What favour?" "I want you to go to Shangri-La." "What?" "Shangri-La." "It was a silver wedding present apparently - her favourite film." "What you on about?" "The Dawson place." "John Dawson?" "The construction magnate?" "Right." "Barry's got a theory..." "Local corruption." "Barry reckons that Marjorie Dawson will corroborate all the stuff he's dug up on her husband." "Look, Marjorie Dawson is not a well woman." "It is ethically dubious to bother her." "I want you to go with Barry and make sure he doesn't go off the deep end." "And what about Clare Kemplay?" "Let Jack handle it for the most part, eh?" "You can do the background." "Who found her?" "A builder's mate." "A lad from Fitzwilliam." "Edward, I'm asking you to drop it." "All right." "Good." "So, you'll stay away from Fitzwilliam, then?" "Hi, Mrs Cole?" "Edward Dunford." "I'm from the Yorkshire Post." "To see our Leonard, isn't it?" "That's right." "Just a quick chat." "He's had enough with the police." "He doesn't need to keep going over it." "Mary, Mary." "It's OK." "It's all right." "Hi, Sorry, I'm Martin Laws." "A pleasure." "Edward Dunford." "Sorry about my hands." "I've been working the allotments." "Not a problem." "I'm just here for a quick chat with" "Leonard if that's all right?" "Don't want to bother you." "Put the comic away, Leonard." "All right, Leonard?" "I'm Edward Dunford." "I'm a journalist with the Yorkshire Post." "I just want to ask you a couple of questions." "Nowt to worry about!" "They thought he'd done it, you know." "Shut up, mum!" "Hey, you." "The police realised it was a mistake." "Why did they think you'd done it, Leonard?" "Ask them." "He's a good boy, Mr Dunford." "He didn't do nothing." "No, I know, I can see that." "You might as well get some brass out of it, Leonard, tell us what happened." "It's not about the money, Mr Dunford." "It's the truth that matters." "Leonard will show you the place." "She were a lovely little thing." "We were waiting for Gaffer, but he never come, and it were raining so... we were just arsing about, you know." "I went over to have a waz, like." "And that's when I saw her." "Down there." "She were lying there." "She had um..." "She had...wings." "What?" "Oh, fuck!" "I couldn't believe it were her." "On the day she went missing, Clare was wearing a red kagoule and red Wellington boots." "When Clare left Morley Grange Junior and Infants School she was seen by witnesses..." "You hard at it, Jackie?" "Hello, Scoop." "Just had a chat with Leonard Cole." "You naughty boy." "Didn't Aunty Hadley say you had to go home for an early bath?" "Heard you were over at Clare Kemplay's post-mortem." "The police are withholding exact details." "Haven't you got a family to go home to?" "You keep following me like this and your friend Barry's gonna get very jealous." "Did you get a look at it?" "Your friend or the post-mortem?" "Yeah, I saw it..." "And?" "And?" "And, a little girl was tortured, raped and strangled." "In that order." "Right." "I want to know the details." "No you don't, Scoop." "Jack." "Jack, don't fuck around." "Whatever happened to all those novels you wanted to write but you were too scared shitless to even try?" "All right, mate, all right." "You fucking tell me!" "Eddie, I am pissing on my trouser leg and yours too." "You're fucking pathetic." "Just a hack!" "Such insight." "A man left this for you, love." "Nice man." "Said he was a friend of yours." "Jack somebody or other." "Mum, I'm working." "'A swan's wing was stitched into her back.'" "'4 Luv.'" "'Carved into her skin...'" "'Carved into her skin.'" "Here we are, Shangri-La." "All great buildings resemble crimes, they say." "Oh?" "Right." "Oh, fuck Hadley, I'm gonna go and talk to Jeanette Garland's family." "You still think there's a connection to Clare Kemplay and t'other girls?" "Absolutely, yeah." "Good lad." "And, er, don't go off the deep end, Barry." "Ha-ha(!" ")" "'.." "Labour government is being seen 'as a resounding victory for miners." "'Around 260,000 miners are expecting weekly pay rises ranging from...'" "Hey." "Are you Mrs Paula Garland?" "Yeah." "Hi..." "I'm Edward Dunford, I'm from the Yorkshire Post." "I just wanted a quick chat about Jeanette." "Sure?" "Thank you." "Mr Garland about, or...?" "What is it that you want, Mr..." "Mr Dunford?" "Erm..." "Well, I'm doing this article and it's about the..." "About parents of children who have gone missing." "It's about how people like yourself, like your husband, have coped after all the fuss has died down." "It must be a very difficult time for you, bringing it all back." "I understand that." "I know how you must've felt." "No, you have no idea how I feel." "One of the things, for example..." "Do you feel that the police could have done anything more to have helped you?" "Yeah, there was one thing." "Right, what was that?" "They could have found my daughter." "Yeah." "You come into my house like you're discussing the weather, or some... war in another fucking country." "You know this thing happened to me." "Get out, please." "Just get out!" "He killed himself." "What?" "Her husband's dead?" "Never got over Jeanette." "Sucked on a shotgun a year back." "Oh..." "Shit." "You're supposed to know these things, Dunford." "It didn't exactly make the front page down south, did it?" "Well, it did here." "You should've fucking known!" "Do your job." "Time, gentlemen, please!" "How about you, how was Shangri-La?" "Mrs Dawson told me my life's in danger." "Bollocks." "Barry, if you believe it, you've gotta tell someone." "Who?" "The law?" "Fuck that." "These people are the law." "Eddie?" "Yeah?" "That Gypsy camp at Hunslet Carr." "Yeah?" "Take a closer look." "Dawson set up a £100 million property trust." "One hundred million." "Be interesting to know who else is on that board..." "There are death squads out there, right?" "You're ignorant, Dunford." "Try carrying a history book along with that notepad of yours." "Want a lift, or what?" "Going t'other way." "Hey!" "Pisshead!" "You never had the urge to deliver us from evil, then?" "No, never!" "The devil triumphs when good men do nowt." "What you doin' here, lad?" "Just been for a pint, what about you?" "Fuck off!" "It's all right, I'm over 18, Dad." "Honest." "Shut up, you little poof!" "Oh!" "I didn't do owt!" "What do you want?" "I'll tell you what we don't want." "We don't want tits like you bothering people we don't want bothering." "Yeah." "It's not very nice, is it?" "Is it?" "!" "Eh?" "!" "All right, Mrs Garland?" "Seems like a nice local..." "Yeah, yeah, it used to be." "Mind if I have a sit for a sec?" "One of them for me?" "Come here often?" "Sounds like you're trying to pick me up, Mr Dunford." "Hope your friends in the force don't see us here together..." "What?" "I dunno what you're talking about." "It's all right." "I got the message." "You didn't have to do that." "You didn't need to go to the police." "I never said anything to the police." "No?" "No." "Who'd you tell then?" "No-one." "Look, Mrs Garland..." "Paula, it's Paula." "Paula, I'm very, very sorry... ..about earlier." "S'all right." "You were doing your job." "It might help find my little girl." "Even so, I was right out of order." "Yeah." "Yeah." "I didn't know about your husband." "Right." "The ring always felt a bit loose, to be honest." "There, that was a stupid thing to say." "Want another drink?" "Just another drink, that's all..." "It's a bad idea." "Eddie?" "It's for you." "About Barry." "His brakes went." "Straight into the back of the van." "Pane of glass scalped him." "Took the top of his fucking head clean off." "They're sure it's him?" "Barry's dead, mate." "In fucking Morley too." "Dead drunk's what I heard." "You'd know, Jack!" "Mea culpa... but it wasn't me getting the dear departed pissed up, was it?" "Come on, lads!" "Press conference." "Sure you've got the stomach for it?" "Like you, Jack?" "Oh, no." "You're the man." "Jack Whitehead's away from his desk just now." "Sergeant Bob Fraser." "Thanks for coming, Mr Dunford." "I know you were friends." "Yeah." "So the van was carrying plates of glass?" "Yes." "And one went through his windscreen?" "Yes." "So, you reckon it were instantaneous?" "I'd say so, sir, yes." "Fuck." "I understand you last saw Mr Gannon in the Shakespeare Public House." "Would you say he was drinking heavily?" "No, no." "And you've no idea where he went from there?" "No." "No idea why he might have come to Morley." "No, none." "I see." "We almost have all the details, sir." "There'll be an inquest tomorrow." "Bit quick, isn't it?" "I think the family are keen to, you know, get it all sorted." "If anything occurs to you, I can be reached through the Morley police station." "You're one of the good ones, aren't you, sergeant?" "I do my best, sir." "Not good copy, is it?" "No." ""We live in an age of great investigative journalism." ""Barry Gannon was one of the men who gave us that age." ""Where he saw injustice, he asked for justice." ""Where he saw lies, he asked for the truth." ""Barry Gannon once said that the truth can only make us richer." ""For those of us who seek the truth," ""Barry Gannon's passing can only make us poorer."" "Not overly panegyric, is it?" "Panegyric?" "No, I don't think so." "Do we really need this?" "There's been a spate of animal mutilations." "Hacked swans found over on Breton Park." "I'm not stupid." "Jack showed me the post mortem." "It's background, in't it?" "Get some police quotes." "Maybe we'll run it on Thursday." "Thank you, sir." "No mention of Clare Kemplay, mind." "Straightforward animal abuse." "Like those pit ponies." "Yeah, no problem." "And pull back on some of the more visceral details." "Don't want that with your cornflakes, do you?" "Absolutely, Mr Hadley." "Edward, you're trying too hard." "You're like Barry." "We could be sued because of Barry." "Mrs Dawson's been recovering in Hartley's after his visit." "Hartley's loony bin?" "Nursing home." "I'm sorry to hear that, sir." "Take care, won't you, lad?" "Yeah." "I'm here to see Aunty Marjorie." "Marjorie Dawson, sorry." "We've had to give her something for her nerves." "She was in a right state when they brought her back." "Mrs Dawson?" "You have a visitor." "It's Eric, Mrs Dawson." "Your nephew." "It sometimes takes her a while to come round." "I understand." "Thank you." "It's locked." "Who are you?" "Edward Dunford." "I'm a journalist." "So, you've been telling lies." "Privilege of the profession." "I just want to ask you a couple of questions, Mrs Dawson." "I can't help you, Mr Dunford." "I think maybe you can." "You see... you told my friend Barry Gannon that his life was in danger." "He was killed last night." "How terrible." "You didn't know that, did you?" "Who knows what I'm supposed to know these days." "I can't figure out why you would tell my friend he was in danger?" "He always used to be so careful." "Who?" "Your husband?" "You smell so strongly." "Sorry." "You smell of death." "Mrs Dawson..." "Don't touch me!" "Look..." "look!" "Shh." "It's all right." "It's all right!" "Tell them about the others." "The others." "Please tell them where they are." "Tell me what you're talking about!" "You must be going..." "Ah!" "Lying bastard!" "Get up!" "Oh!" "Ow!" "# A certain smile..." "# A certain face..." "# Can lead an unsuspecting heart" "# On a merry chase... #" "Ahh!" "They found you by the car." "You were covered in blood." "Mmm." "What time is it?" "Just gone six, love." "What are you doing?" "Mum..." "Don't be daft." "You're not fit!" "This is my work, right?" "Don't do this to him." "No, no, no, no..." "He really loved you, your dad." "He had a funny way of showing it." "'You never did one good thing, you.'" "Mum..." "Mum..." "I've gotta go, Mum." "OK?" "Yeah..." "It's not safe." "In there." "Dad?" "Sit down, then." "Here, look." "Thank you." "So what happened to your hand?" "It was the same two coppers that warned me off last time I was here." "Look, I told you before" " I never said anything to the police." "Paula, please." "Come on, I need to know." "Paula, please tell me." "All right." "I was upset after you went." "So, er..." "So John came over." "Who's John?" "John Dawson." "So what'd you tell him?" "Some fucking journalist had been round asking questions." "You pissed me off." "There you go, then." "Why don't you tell me about Dawson?" "He was very kind to us when Jeanette went missing." "Substandard housing, dodgy property trusts, backhanders to the local council..." "He's been very good to me." "Oh, yeah?" "I bet he has." "What is that supposed to mean?" "D'you think he'd do something like this?" "No." "No?" "No." "Why would he?" "Maybe because of what I know." "And what do you know, Eddie?" "I know that Clare Kemplay was found on a Dawson construction site." "You're talking nonsense." "I know all the Dawsons in this world care about are their lies and their money." "Look, you don't know anything!" "You're just a...a boy." "And I know there's some bastard out there who's taking, raping, murdering little girls, and nobody is gonna stop him because nobody really fucking cares!" "And you do?" "Yeah, maybe I do." "Thank you." "Fly away, Peter, fly away, Paul!" "Hmm..." "You know when she was just a baby?" "I..." "I used to lie awake at night and wonder what I'd do if anything... happened to her." "I'd run to her room and I'd wake her up... ..and I'd hug her and hug her and hug her." "And... ..and when she never came home..." "..those terrible things had come true." "(Come here.)" "Good piece by Hadley, wasn't it?" "Bit on the panegyric side, I thought." "Oh, aye, I suppose." "Barry would have appreciated it." "Doubt it." "Going for a spin, Mr Dumford?" "Why would I want to do that?" "I was a great admirer of your late colleague." "Such a waste." "John Dawson," "Fuck the press-code, boy, eh?" "Champion, jump in." "This nation's in fucking chaos with its hung parliaments." "A year ago, they were to bring back rationing." "Now we've got inflation at fucking 25%." "The country's at war, Mr Dunford." "The government and the unions, the left and the right, the rich and the poor." "Then you've got your enemies within." "Your Paddies, your wogs, your niggers, your fucking gypos, the poofs, the perverts, even the bloody women." "They're all out for what they can get." "I tell you, soon there'll be nowt left for us lot." "Time to turn the tide." "So you're not a Labour man then?" "Course I bloody am!" "Tory cunts have outpriced theirselves." "A Labour men will always do a deal." "Trouble with your generation is you know nowt." "Your lot never fought a bloody war." "Fucking cowboys and Indians then, son - like now." "You going to continue our late friend's crusade against local corruption, Mr Dunford?" "Why do you ask me that?" "Me and Barry had a very special relationship." "Most of the time." "Mutually beneficial, it was." "In what way?" "I'm in a fortunate position to be able to... occasionally pass on information that comes my way." "Certain officials sticking their fingers where they shouldn't, that kind of thing." "Like the cut?" "Top man, your dad." "Knew how to cut his cloth." "Solid." "Dependable." "That's not you, is it, Mr Dunford?" "You're more like me." "We like to fuck and make a buck and we're not right choosy, are we?" "Ain't that right?" "Eh?" "Drop by Saturday lunchtime." "Something might interest you." "And, Mr Dunford..." "Aye?" "My wife is a very unwell woman." "Speak to her again... it won't be your hand that gets smashed." "Come on." "Ziggy was in, love, looking for you." "You what?" "Poof with the orange hair." "He's outside." "Saw you at Barry's funeral, didn't I?" "We've seen things, you know." "I'll bet you have." "Listen, I know people." "Powerful...people." "Because I have sucked the cocks of some of the greatest men this country has." "A boy should have a hobby." "Listen, don't let me keep you." "Hey, relax, just relax." "I'm sorry." "It's all right." "OK." "I'm not going to bite you." "You liked Barry, didn't you?" "Yeah, I did." "Cos he was kind." "Yeah, he was." "And he liked you." "He said he wanted to help you." "This is his life's work." "He said to give it to you in case anything happened to him." "Do you think Barry was murdered?" "Listen to me." "BJ loved Barry." "Really loved him." "But he was too fucking scared to go to his funeral." "I don't know who did Barry." "I don't want to know." ""Michael John Myshkin, of 69 Newstead View, Fitzwilliam," ""was today taken into police custody for the murder of Clare Kemplay..."" "It's fucking mental out there." "Where is he?" "Works for a photo lab, dad's a Polack, hardly speaks a word of English." "That's lucky." "Are you Michael John Myshkin of 69 Newstead View, Fitzwilliam?" "Yes." "You are accused that on or between August 31 and 1 September you did murder Clare Kemplay against the peace of our Sovereign Lady, the Queen." "Mr Myshkin, the West Yorkshire Metropolitan Police have requested that you be held in custody for a further eight days." "The court understands that you have no objection." "No." "Michael John Myshkin, due to the seriousness of the accusation, your case will be referred to the Crown Court." "In the interim you will be remanded in custody." "And that concludes the business for today, your worships, thank you." "Please, it wasn't me." "It were the wolf." "Under the beautiful carpets." "What was that, what did he just say?" "The wolf, what was that?" "Something about carpets." "Bollocks." "We got the bastard then, Stu." "You can't go in there!" "Bloody farce, isn't it?" "Myshkin didn't do it, did he?" "He's confessed." "Yeah, but it's absolute bollocks." ""Nefarious deed carried out in what he called his underground kingdom."" "Jack, did you see him?" "He's retarded." "No, his dad's just a Polack, that's all." "What's happened to your hand?" "I hope we don't cramp your style." "Fuck off." "Now watch your language!" "They found all kinds of things in Myshkin's room, Scoop." "Photos of little girls, boxes of them." "Well, he does work in a photo lab." "He's coughing for the lot." "Clare Kemplay, Jeanette Garland and the Ridyard girl, right back to 1969." "Right, so, he's 22." "Right?" "So therefore he would have been 16 when Susan Ridyard went missing, right?" "So?" "So, fuck you, Jack!" "Hey, now watch your language in my office!" "It feels wrong, doesn't it?" "Eh?" "All that slog... all those hunches." "You just don't want it to be him, Scoop." "I was the same once." "You're in their pockets." "What are you talking about?" "The police going about their business, supported by the good old Yorkshire Post." "The truth is the truth, Scoop." "And it's a bitter pill." "But you'll get used to it one day." "I'll handle the press conference, boss." "Thanks, Jack." "Edward?" "I won't have you coming in here like this." "Like what?" "Like this!" "Now take the rest of the month off and get that hand sorted out." "Are you listening to me, lad?" "Edward?" "How well do you know John Dawson?" "Do you mind?" "Edward, I haven't got time for your adolescent conspiracy theories." "Go on, get home and get yourself sorted out." "She's dead, isn't she?" "# Love a while" "# And when love calls" "# You try to hide the tears inside... #" "Branch is closed ten." "It's all right, Clare." "He's with me." "Same again, love." "You look like shit." "Up all night." "What's your excuse?" "I've got my weaknesses, lad." "Paula Garland one of them?" "Me and Paula go back a long way." "Old friends." "I like this place." "It's private." "Just the wogs and us." "That's how I like things, private." "Cheers." "Cheers." "Another round, Sammy." "And bring the pud trolley over." "I want to show Mr Dunford some delights." "I think you know we've got an important investment over at Hunslet Carr." "Feast your eyes." "How about that then?" "Eh?" "Look, it's got little trees and everything." "What yer Yanks call a shopping mall." "You got your high street chains, cinema, bowling alleys, caffs, restaurants, all under one roof." "Put an 'otel in there and there's no need to fuck off home." "Not bad, eh?" "And your pals in the West Yorkshire Police already cleared the site for you, so..." "Gypos." "Squatters." "That's my land." "So, what's the problem?" "I've got investors to look after, haven't I?" "Is Bill Molloy one of them?" "Don't be a cunt." "Course Bill Molloy's one of them." "Not the only copper neither." "Gi' it him, Paul." "Open it." "Take a fucking look, lad." "I apologise for the vile content of these snaps, Mr Dunford." "I hear you're a bit of a cunt man." "Sticks in the craw, doesn't it?" "I mean, how can they do it?" "Who is this?" "Who is it?" "!" "Bloody hell." "That's Councillor William Shaw, of the Labour Party, that is." "That's your Man Most Likely To Succeed." "He's your nigger in the whatsit is Councillor Shaw." "Traitor to the cause." "It's a scoop, is what it is." "Ambitious lad like yourself?" "Make your name with this one." "No, wrong boy, Dawson." "You gonna to be a failure all your life, son?" "Come on, Eddie, I need a little support." "A little cooperation." "You play your part, son, and we'll all get what we want." "No." "I'm a journalist." "Like Barry." "I respected Barry." "He was a good man." "Problem is, he had his own agenda." "Is that why you had him killed?" "What the fucking hell are you going to do about it?" "!" "Eh, son?" "You're a fucking student with a notebook!" "I do not want to be part of this!" "Tough shit." "You already are." "All right." "Yes, I went to see John last night." "I told you he's been very kind..." "You fucked him." "You fucked John Dawson." "Me?" "I'll fuck anything in trousers." "You shouldn't have said that." "Go on then." "What are you going to do?" "You chose to get involved." "You don't care." "You don't really fucking care at all, do you?" "You just want to rescue me." "You're not the first." "Think you'll be the last?" "Sorry, sorry." "I'm sorry." "Please listen to me." "Dawson fucks who he wants to fuck." "(He takes what he wants.)" "How long have you known him for?" "All my life." "Please, I'm sorry." "Don't go." "We've got to get out of this place." "What?" "We've got to get out of Yorkshire." "I can't." "Yeah, yeah you can." "They've got sunshine down south." "They've got sea view flats." "Warm summer breezes." "Just go there right now and never come back." "Pack a bag." "OK." "I'll be back in a couple of hours, all right?" "All right." "So, you're one of the good ones, aren't you, Sergeant Fraser?" "You are." "Not many of them left." "This is Barry Gannon's life's work." "This is high level corruption, business, local government, West Yorkshire Police..." "Who in particular?" "Have a look." "Is this too hot for you?" "Thought I could do it but I can't." "Look after that." "# Hang in there, baby Make love tonight" "# Don't be afraid." "# Gonna make it all right" "# Ooh, I know just how you feel Wanna hold you tight" "# We've almost got it made" "# Now that we've caressed... #" "Paula!" "Paula!" "# Sad, sweet dreamer!" "# It's just one of those things you put down to experience... #" "Looking after that special relationship, are we, Mr Hadden?" "# .." "Been another blue day without you, girl" "# Been another sad summer song" "# Been thinking about you, girl all night long" "# Been another sad tear on my pillow" "# Been another memory to tell me you're the one, girl" "# Been thinking about you, girl all night long!" "#" "Eddie, lad." "Some people I'd like you to meet, son." "I want to see Paula." "That's all I want to do." "I'm not interested in your filthy little world." "I just want to see Paula." "Paula's gone, son." "Long gone." "Come on." "You know that, don't you?" "Where is she?" "Let it go, lad." "Let me introduce you to..." "Paula!" "Eddie, lad." "Paula!" "Paula!" "Paula!" "I said..." "Tell them about the others." "You need the beautiful new carpets." "It's way past your bedtime." "Where is she?" "Paula!" "Paula!" "Is he bleeding yet?" "He is now." "Come on, sunshine." "Argh!" "Go away!" "Woohoo!" "What is it?" "What is it?" "Take a seat." "Take a seat?" "OK." "Put your hands... ..flat down on this." "Like me." "Go on." "Put them down flat." "Come on!" "Look at her!" "Look at her!" "Forensics, lad." "You're all over her clothes, in her flat, under her finger nails, up her cunt." "You're all over her." "You did it, didn't you, eh?" "Go on, say it." "Say you did it." "Bill." "Stay with him." "I didn't do it." "I didn't do it." "I loved her." "Of course you didn't do it." "We know who did though, don't we?" "Eh?" "Don't we lad, eh?" "Keep fucking still!" "Behave!" "That's it." "Oh, shit!" "Oh, fuck." "Fuck!" "What?" "Say, "Do it."" "No!" "Yeah, now, now!" "Now!" "No!" "No, please!" "We were joking." "No!" "Are you all right, lad?" "Are you all right, lad?" "Just joking, just joking." "Come on." "Now these, these are a different ball game altogether, son." "These are real." "Relax, it's all over now, mate." "This is the easy bit here." "Give me that." "Put it in his pocket." "Right, now you are going to do us a little favour." "OK?" "Come here." "Come with me." "You see this?" "This is the North." "We do what we want." "Hello!" "The others?" "Beneath the beautiful carpets." "He always used to be so careful." "Where is he?" "Eh?" "Well...?" "'Eddie, is that you?" "'" "I didn't do one good thing, did I?" "'Please come home, love.'" "No." "I'm sorry." "I can't." "Bye, Mum." "Look who's here." "Well, all this over a fucking shopping centre!" "Fucking hell." "All of it your fault, son." "That prick of yours, leads you where you shouldn't go." "What about the children?" "Wolf does for John." "Private weakness." "Fucking hell, I'm no angel." "Wolf does for John." "'They got sunshine down south." "'And warm summer breezes." "'Just go there right now and never come back.'" "As of today Detective Chief Superintendent Maurice Johnson will have sole responsibility for the hunt for his man." "We want you to head up a covert Home Office inquiry into the Ripper investigation." "Why covert?" "I've been instructed to give you whatever you need." "Detective Helen Marsh." "Either Strachan was killed by the Ripper or not." "Six years ago, the Karachi Club." "I don't like Mr Craven." "How deep does the rot go, Maurice?" "It's getting dead murky." "No-one takes the bone off me." "It's not just that, Mr Hunter, not for you." "It's about how many others you take down with him." "Why didn't you come to me?" "Talk to someone else." "There's nobody left, they're all fucking dead."