[theme music] [train clacking] [train roaring] Bye.

[telephone rings] Busy?

Absolutely.

Boning up on the law.

Ah.

I have a job for you.

Operation Grab It Back.

Nabbing back stolen cars, yes.

Wasn't that your idea?

Originally.

The chief constable thinks it's a bit too operational for me, so Detective Superintendent Chalmers is running it.

Mm.

Aren't those two-- In the orienteering team together.

Yes.

That's right, orienteering.

They share a map.

They're taking on the Army next week on Salisbury Plain.

The chief wants me to have an oversight sort of role.

So, if Operation Grab It Back is a success, the chief's chum Chalmers gets the praise.

And if it's a failure, you get the blame.

Oversight.

Yeah.

Come on, now.

Come on.

Come on, now.

Now, now, now, come here.

Come here!

Oh, are you worth it!

I could roast you and have you for my dinner, you know?

Get in here!

Ugh!

[Woman] Mrs. Crabbe?

[Margaret] Yes.

Ms. Forelle, EHO.

Sorry?

EHO?

Environmental Health Officer.

I'm a food inspector.

I've come to inspect the restaurant.

Oh.

Good to meet you.

You've just been handling livestock.

Oh, yes!

Sorry.

Silly me.

Coffee?

Eh, no, thank you.

Your job today is simple.

Recovering ringers.

Analysis of vehicle registrations has in this area which are stolen and re-registered under another number.

Sergeant Rowlatt is handing out lists.

You will go to the addresses on the lists.

You will take possession of the vehicles and issue an official receipt.

I don't envisage any arrests at this stage, unless, of course, someone resists you in the execution of your duty.

Any questions?

Do we know who stole them?

The purpose of this exercise is to recover property.

Later we will establish who stole them and how.

Any others?

Okay.

What do they say on such occasions?

Let's be careful out there.

She is human after all.

I'll ride with you.

Right.

Do you wear headgear when you're working?

Um.

Oh, I don't cook.

And Mrs. Crabbe?

Sorry.

May I see your hands?

Oh!

[chuckles] I don't touch food either.

I'm strictly front-of-house.

But you do come into the kitchen.

You offered to make me coffee.

Inky fingers.

[chuckles] Thank you.

Now, stock control.

Show me how you rotate your stock.

Well, Mr. Crabbe deals with all that.

But he's not here.

You show me.

[engine idles] This is a stolen car?

It's on the list.

Dear God.

Mr. Edwards?

Yes?

Morning, my name is Detective Inspector Crabbe of Barstock C.I.D.

Thank you.

I'd like to talk to you about your car.

Apparently, it's been nicked.

Nonsense.

Our car?

Well, it was stolen, you see, before you bought it.

And we have to take possession.

Now?

Does that mean we can't go on holiday in it?

I'm afraid so, yes.

What about the caravan?

We have no instructions about the caravan.

Mm.

It wasn't a pair, I presume?

I told you we should've left before 9:00!

We were going to Seaton.

It looks like rain.

My husband spares no expense in the kitchen.

Everything's new since we came.

-New flooring.

-When was it last washed?

About an hour ago.

New splash backs, stainless-steel worktops.

What do you use to wash it?

It's bleach, diluted three to one with water.

Standing instructions on the wall.

And these are your cutting boards?

Yeah.

They're all color-coded.

Red for meat.

Green for salad.

They don't look used.

Well, Mr. Crabbe replaces them regularly.

What do you think?

No problem.

We'll pass with flying colors.

What's this?

Sorry?

It's a mistake.

It's a trap for dirty food.

Clean it.

Toilets.

[engine revving] Oh, cheer up, sir.

It can only get better.

Well, just one more.

[Henry] I'm sure you did pay good money for it, Mr. Melchett, but it's not yours.

I've got the logbook!

Yeah, it proves nothing, apparently.

What are you, judge and jury now?

I'm just doing my job, Mr. Melchett.

Same as I'm sure you do yours.

Which is?

-I'm a builder.

-Right.

It's a nice car.

For a builder, you mean.

You people.

I work hard for everything I have.

Are you laughing at me?

No.

You like doing this.

Just get him a receipt, would you, Cambridge?

Fascist.

Now, listen.

[Melchett screams] [Melchett] Animal!

-Oh, look-- -Don't hit me again.

Don't hit me!

Oh, get up, you fool!

I've seen coppers like you on the TV.

Nazi.

My only crime was to buy a car.

What's going on?

Not content with nicking my legal car, which I personally own, he assaulted me!

-You saw.

-I didn't see a thing, sir.

Typical.

Coppers stick together.

Did you hit him, Crabbe?

Would you just leave this to me, please, Superintendent?

You ever been in trouble before, Melchett?

I'm not in trouble now.

No.

Well, let's keep it that way, shall we?

[Henry sighs] Now, who would want to steal that and that?

Two different thieves, maybe.

Precisely.

[men speaking Russian] Snipe!

You berk!

I've had the coppers 'round after that car you sold me.

Oh?

What did they want?

A ride in it!

What do you think they wanted?

Took it away.

-Oh.

-Yes.

Oh.

I was lucky not to be nicked.

There's our man, you see.

"David Arthur Melchett.

14th of July, 1950."

"Receiving stolen goods, six months.

Pecuniary advantage by deception, a year."

And then nothing for seven years.

This is different, you know, Cambridge.

I mean, this isn't a frazzled dad with some ancient Citroen.

A pensioner in a Metro.

No.

No, this is an old lag who's just swapped a clapped-out Ford Sierra for a mint condition, top-of-the-range Mercedes.

He's gonna have to tell us where he got that car.

Hm.

Now?

No.

Tomorrow.

Hello.

Running late?

Boss, don't get settled.

Eh?

Don't stand there.

Visitor.

Do you work here?

Sort of.

This is Mr. Crabbe.

No earrings, body piercings?

Nothing like that?

Well, funnily enough-- Miss Forelle is a food inspector.

-Ms. -Oh.

Show me your hands.

Ms. Forelle is very concerned about personal hygiene.

The department is.

How do you do?

Fluffy jumpers won't do in a kitchen.

It's a waistcoat, actually.

I'm sorry.

I've just come in from a very hard day's work.

This is a food preparation zone.

Is it?

Show me your drains.

Here they are.

This way.

How long has she been here?

Hours.

Oh, no.

I've had enough of bossy women for one day, actually.

No, you haven't.

You go upstairs, and Gary and I will deal with Ms. Forelle.

Goodbye.

[engine halts] Boris.

How nice to see you.

[grunts] -You are a lying scum.

-What?

We have an exclusive contract.

And you've been doing a bit of a private enterprise.

-Sorry?

-Well, you will be.

It wasn't me.

It was Kemp.

Kemp?

Who is Kemp?

The boy who nicks the cars.

Where does he live?

3, The Railway Cuttings.

Please don't hit me again.

Please.

[car revving] [men speaking Russian] [doorbell rings] [dog barks] Brought my car back?

Not quite.

Let's go inside, shall we?

[men speaking Russian] [man vomiting] [bell buzzes] We want to talk to you.

Go.

Yeah.

Talk.

You've got a record.

That was years ago.

What is this?

I was the one who bought the car.

It's me that's lost money.

Who sold you the car?

You know.

Crabbe took the receipt.

That's a work of fiction, Melchett.

The car bearing that registration went into the crusher six months ago.

Maybe the scrap dealer salvaged it.

No, he didn't.

D.I.

Crabbe found you in possession of a stolen vehicle.

Now I discover you have a record for offenses involving dishonesty.

You're in a very vulnerable position.

D.I.

Crabbe will undoubtedly pay you a visit tomorrow.

Mm, he'll have you sent to prison, again.

Give me the man who sold you the car.

You'll keep me out of it?

You could give yourself an edge.

How?

You were complaining earlier that Crabbe assaulted you.

You could consider making that a formal complaint.

That would get me off the hook?

Tell me where the car came from.

[doorbell buzzes] [Kemp] All right, all right.

Aah!

Aah!

Oh, dear.

Did we do that?

No.

You did that.

Grab that.

You realize it's already been searched, sir.

Not by me, it hasn't.

Well, what are you looking for?

Oh, you know.

Business cards, receipts.

A credit-card voucher for petrol would be lovely.

Get rid of that matting, will you?

Thanks.

Nothing.

Ah.

Bingo.

"Ace Car Care, Electrical Supplier, and Technicians."

Pity there's no customer's address on it.

Yeah.

So, what were you going to say when you came over?

Oh, I thought you'd want to know.

Melchett's made a formal complaint.

He says you assaulted him when we took possession of his car.

Well, that's tosh.

I mean, you know that.

Well, I didn't actually see the incident, sir.

-Oh.

-Sorry.

Well, Superintendent Chalmers was there.

She must have seen everything.

Yes.

Oh.

Wonderful.

It says here you beat him up, Crabbe.

Contusions on his chest.

Bruising on his buttocks.

I suppose that must have happened when you knocked him down, eh?

Superintendent Chalmers suggested I suspend you.

What did you say?

No.

She's made an arrest, you know.

[Henry] Yes, another poor sap.

Anthony Kemp, 22, unemployed, known to us.

Plenty of form for car thefts.

She thinks she's nipped it in the bud.

Hm.

Not impressed?

Well, Chalmers' mind works in two dimensions, you see.

Car crime, car criminal.

"Bingo.

Let's call it a result."

What do you call it?

Bit underwhelming.

I mean, this Operation Grab It Back has been very interesting, sir.

We've had a couple of really high-quality cars in the middle of all of these bangers.

So?

Well, stealing, ringing, and then selling a Jaguar or a Mercedes is a very different proposition from knocking out a 3-year-old Metro.

Have you got a lead, Crabbe?

Well, Chalmers doesn't know about it.

What are you suggesting?

I think I can put you on the inside track, sir.

That is, if there is such a thing as an inside track in orienteering.

I'll ask the chief once we've made an arrest.

[door knocking] Hang on.

Hang on!

Oh, Miss Forelle.

We're not open yet.

The Environmental Health Department can call at any time, Mrs. Crabbe.

Do I get the impression that you're taking a special interest in us?

Do you mean, am I picking on you?

I mean, maybe we got off on the wrong foot.

And if there's anything I could do to correct that.

Mrs. Crabbe, strictly speaking, I could simply send you a summons for any contraventions of the Food Act.

Instead, I've come to see if you've made the improvements I suggested on my last visit.

Thanks.

What I want to see is a clean, well-run kitchen.

Oh, bloody hell!

Margaret.

Morning, Mister, uh?

-Snipe.

-Snipe.

Hello.

Henry Crabbe, Detective Inspector, Barstock C.I.D.

I wanted to talk to you about this.

Now, is this your receipt for cash paid against work done?

-That's right.

-Very good.

See, we found this in a stolen car, a Mercedes, and I wanted to have it returned to its rightful owner.

And I wonder if you could you help me.

I can look in my files.

-Thank you.

-Should be straightforward enough.

Bit of a headache?

Huh?

No, no, no, no.

I walked into a door.

Oh, dear.

Some door, eh?

Mm.

Oh.

Here we are.

It's Mr. Russell, Pound Lane.

Great.

Can I borrow a pen?

-Yeah.

-Thanks.

-Have a sandwich, Mr. Kemp.

-No, thanks.

It'll be the last decent food you'll eat for a while.

I wouldn't give a dog what they feed you in the chokey.

I'm not going in the chokey.

Well, Superintendent Chalmers seems to think so.

If only criminals believed they were definitely going to prison, there would be no crimes.

-Is that right?

-Ah.

If only logic ruled, eh?

I'll get community service.

No, you won't.

Now, let me get this straight.

You've admitted that you pinched a Mercedes-Benz, registration number PR246, and sold it to Mr. Melchett?

It's in my statement.

Yeah.

And you've never done it before or since, you said?

I was just wondering, you know, what those boys who blacked your eyes are going to feel about you when I nick them.

I don't know what you're talking about.

Imagine, eating all that prison food through a straw.

I won't be eating prison food.

Yes, you will.

You and Snipe, both of you.

I don't know any Snipe.

You see, now, that was the wrong answer because Snipe said he got his black eye from walking into a door.

I said, I don't know any Snipe.

Have a sandwich while you can.

Ah, Mr. Fisher.

I've been looking at our numbers.

I don't think we need a replacement for Crabbe.

Don't you?

Well, the worst of Operation Grab It Back is over, and I don't want to draw other officers' attention to Crabbe's departure.

Crabbe isn't departing.

-Isn't?

-No.

What about the complaint?

Melchett's bruises?

Love bites, according to the police surgeon.

The complaint was spurious.

Crabbe stays.

Crabbe.

That's my prisoner.

Oh, I'm sorry.

I didn't know they had owners.

Don't be insubordinate.

What were you doing in there?

Offering him a sandwich.

Good God, man.

You've fed him.

I can't help it.

I get these urges.

But it's not your job.

It all has to be written down in the custody record.

I hope that handkerchief is hygienic.

It should be.

Don't go back in there.

I've a special duty for you.

[train racing] You been on the job long?

Six months, sir.

Do you like it?

Oh, yeah.

I love it, sir.

You arrested anyone yet?

No, not yet, sir.

But you're always looking out, eh?

-Yeah.

-Good for you.

Listen, I want you to take these leaflets, stand at the foot of those steps over there, and give them out to the people.

And I want you to ask them if they're sure their car is locked and all their valuables are safely hidden away, all right?

All right.

And you'll be stood here?

No, no, no.

I'll be over there making phone calls.

If anyone comes over to the unit, sir?

Yeah, right, well, if they come over, you stop giving out the leaflets, you come over here, and you deal with the inquiry yourself.

Got that?

-Yeah.

-Good.

Good morning.

Could I speak to Mr. Russell, please?

Oh, is that Mrs. Russell?

Hello, I'm a police officer.

My name is Detective Inspector Crabbe.

I wanted to talk to your husband about his motorcar.

Yes, I understand his Mercedes-Benz was stolen.

Oi!

[men crashing] Can I call you back?

You, son, are nicked.

Thank you.

What are those for?

I valet the cars.

You what?

People leave me a spare set of keys, and while they're at work, I valet their cars.

"Hobson's, clean while you work.

We at Hobson's strain it while you train it."

Well, you're not much of a copywriter, are you?

Well, I was in engineering before the economic upturn.

Then I got laid off.

Sorry.

How long you been valeting 'round here?

Six months.

Yeah.

All right, Constable.

Anyone else do it?

No.

There's a guy who does the servicing.

Ever come across these people?

Ace Car Care, Electricals?

Yeah.

I've seen them here before.

Yeah.

And?

It's just that someone else was asking about them recently.

Who?

I don't know.

Foreigners.

[sighs] What flavor foreigners?

I'm no expert, but I'd say they sounded like Russians.

[men singing in Russian] [whistles] [speaking Russian] [Chalmers] Oh, hello.

Anybody asks, I'm having a lunch break, all right?

[Chalmers] Oh, right.

Who's that?

That's Mr. Russell.

I'm hoping he's the owner of that car.

-Ah.

-You find any other owners?

Yeah, one or two.

BMW.

Range Rover.

Good.

Would you ask them if any of them had any work done by Ace Car Care, Electricals?

I say, this is mine.

Look, I did this in the supermarket car park.

Well, I'm glad to be able to reunite you.

Thank you.

There you are, you see?

One car stolen and recovered.

The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.

[men speaking Russian] [engine revving] Hello, Gary.

Has my Welsh lamb arrived yet?

Yes, Chef.

Good.

Where is it?

In that fridge.

Well, get it out.

You can't cook it if it's chilled rigid.

Ms. Forelle said we must keep all meat in the fridge except when we're actually cooking it.

Oh, did she?

So, how's it supposed to get prepared?

Chef, I'm not arguing with you.

I'm just passing on what she said.

Where's the spuds?

Ms. Forelle said we've got to keep them in the cold cupboard till we need them.

She says they introduce soil into the kitchen.

Oh, for crying out loud.

What are you doing now?

I'm rearranging the fridge the way Ms. Forelle told us to.

Whose restaurant is this, anyway?

Henry, Ms. Forelle has come back to see how we're getting on.

You're wearing another fluffy jumper, Mr. Crabbe.

Waistcoat.

I've just come in.

And I thought we agreed the meat was going in the fridge.

These surfaces are solely for food preparation.

Sorry.

This fridge is at nine.

Nine what?

Degrees.

It should be eight or lower.

It usually is.

I have to keep opening it and closing it.

Get it serviced, Mr. Crabbe.

I'm sorry.

It's not your fault.

Come on.

Henry, for heaven's sake, be nice to her.

Charm her.

I thought charm was your job.

Well, she's not responding to me.

-Be manly.

-Man, meaning what?

Well, flirt with her.

You can manage it if you want to.

Flirt?

I'd rather charm a traffic cop.

Just get her out of the door with a smile on her face, please.

I'm sorry.

What temperature do you keep eggs at?

We don't.

They couldn't be fresher.

We have hens out the back.

Your fridge must be eight degrees or lower by tomorrow night.

I shall return to check.

Right.

We're on the same side, you know.

I think you're in favor of good, wholesome food, too, aren't you?

-Of course.

-Well, let me prove to you, let me show you just how good these eggs are.

Let me cook some for you.

No, thank you.

Look, I'll do you la spécialité de la maison, coddled eggs.

I'll even do some soldiers just for you.

Half-cooked eggs?

Are you mad?

Mr. Crabbe, you have flowers on your worktops, meat left out of the fridge, eggs coming straight from hens' bottoms into your dishes.

This restaurant has more possible sources of infection than anywhere I've visited in an age.

The regulations are clear.

You have until tomorrow evening to conform.

If this kitchen isn't perfect when I come back, I'm going to close you down.

I'd never thought of it like that before.

How did it go?

Worked a treat.

I knew it.

You all right, sir?

Do us a favor.

Stand on the bumper, would you?

[Henry] All right.

Oh, leave it, leave it, leave it, leave it, leave it.

Leave it.

You want to go back to your restaurant, sir.

Do I?

I hear you do a wicked steak and kidney pie.

Oh, yeah.

Where did you hear that, then?

Canteen wireless, sir.

Gossip, sir.

Same as I heard Detective Inspector Chalmers and the chief constable-- Are in the orienteering team together.

Yes, I know.

Morning, sir.

Carry on, Constable.

Yes, sir.

Message from Cambridge.

All the stolen quality cars she could trace had work done at Ace Car Care, Electricals.

[Henry] Oh, good.

Sir.

Not now, Constable.

I thought you and I might deal with this together.

And Chalmers?

I left a note on her desk.

Underneath all the paperwork?

Sir.

Is that?

[engine revving] That's my car!

[tires screeching] Why didn't you say something?

I tried, sir.

You could have grabbed him.

Well, I thought he might be valeting the car.

You thought what?

Or fitting an alarm.

Give me your cuffs, Cobbett.

Thank you.

Now get onto the radio and tell them Mr. Fisher's car has been stolen.

Now what?

Now we need transport, sir.

[car honking] [tires screeching] Ma'am, that was quick.

What?

The stolen car.

Which stolen car, Cobbett?

Mr. Fisher's.

Someone stole Fisher's car?

[laughs] Where?

Here.

I've just reported it.

Fisher was here?

Where's Crabbe?

Where's your display unit?

Oh, oh, they took it.

Where?

Some car electrical place, ma'am.

Which way?

That way.

Cobbett!

-Ma'am?

-Open the gate.

I haven't got a coin.

I'll see what I can do to fix it, Ma'am.

Get in the car, Cobbett.

Yes, ma'am.

Now find me that display unit.

This should get me on the orienteering team.

Here.

Get a cover on that.

Open this gate!

It's the police!

Open this gate!

-Coming.

-Move it!

Come on!

Who do I have the pleasure of addressing?

Assistant Chief Constable Fisher.

Well, what can I sell you?

Nice stereo?

You worm.

That's my car.

Don't hit me.

I didn't know it was your car.

You just keep him there.

Oh, dear.

What?

What?

I shall have to call an ambulance.

What blood group are you?

[containers kicking] See, your big mistake was selling that Mercedes to Melchett.

I imagine your employers thought likewise, eh?

Right, Mr. Snipe.

Where shall we start?

Do we have to?

Oh, yes.

What do you reckon?

Moscow?

They export cars by the container load.

Porsches, Mercs, Beemers.

Range Rovers?

I just fix alarms for them.

And then arrange to have them nicked.

I think we've lost them.

No.

Give me that.

Oh, no, we haven't.

Look!

It's just down here, and it's just on the right.

[Henry] How many?

[Snipe] Just two.

But they're well hard.

[Fisher] Call for backup, Crabbe.

[Henry] How?

[Fisher] I don't know.

Find a phone box.

Even if we do phone in, who's gonna make sure she's the first one out here?

-Chalmers.

-Yeah.

There's no alternative.

We'll just have to go in ourselves.

Ah.

Well, you better cuff him.

I think we'll need those, sir, for the Russians.

Snipe, get in that car and stay there.

[men shouting in Russian] You, son, are nicked.

Well, you're too late.

I'm already in custody.

Where's Crabbe?

Down there.

Come on, you.

[Henry grunts] [thud] You, son, are nicked.

There's your collar, sir.

Thank you, Crabbe.

Can I go now?

That'll do, Cobbett.

Thank you.

Thank you!

I'll take this one into custody.

No, you won't, Chalmers.

Chalmers!

So, what if I am?

Oh, you're the one who came 'round and told Melchett to make a complaint against Mr. Crabbe.

-What?

-That's enough from you.

And that's enough from you.

-Cobbett, take him back to the car.

-But-- I'm running Operation Grab It Back from now on.

But what about me?

They're short of an administrator on the Cones Hotline.

I think it's right up your alley.

May I go now, sir, please?

Would you stop opening that fridge door?

Oh, sorry.

What's the temperature now?

Four degrees and falling.

Good.

[door knocking] Forelle.

-Mr. Crabbe?

-Yeah.

Mrs. Rowan, Food Inspector.

Ah.

Um.

I was expecting a Ms. Forelle.

Yes.

She's off sick.

-Oh, dear.

-Yeah, apparently she had two portions of those chicken gobbets they sell in the High Street.

Poor woman.

Oh!

Oh.

Lovely eggs.

We keep our own hens, you know.

Yes.

The only way to ensure quality of supply.

Yeah.

Margaret, this is Mrs. Rowan.

She's a food inspector.

Oh.

Oh, hello.

Where would you like to start?

Oh, no rush if you're busy.

Oh.

It's a lovely restaurant you've got here, Mrs. Crabbe.

Thank you.

Oh.

Coddled eggs.

That's my favorite.

And perhaps a small glass of the house red?

Perfect.

[theme music]