The Murdoch Mysteries (2004) s18e18 Episode Script

(DISTANT DOG BARKING)
(TRAIN BELL RINGING)
Good gracious! Henry,
a prisoner in the Don
Jail crafted a bomb
and used it to destroy one of the walls.
My, oh, my. How many escaped?
Dozens, it says.
God knows what sort of havoc
they'll wreak on the city.
Or if we'll even be able
to catch them all again!
George, we're the Toronto Constabulary.
We won't rest until we've
caught every last one.
You're absolutely right,
Higgins. In fact
(BABY CRYING)
Good God, Henry! There's a
baby hanging out of the window!
Out of the way! Out of the way!
(CROWD SHOUTING)
(BABY CRYING)
(CROWD CHEERING)
The baby was hanging
right out of the window!
You should have seen it! I-if
we'd been there a moment later
- (SMACKS HAND)
- (ALL): Oh
Would've crashed to the ground.
- Thank goodness for George Crabtree.
- (APPLAUSE)
- No.
- Yes.
No, no. Any one of you
would have done the same.
- If you could.
- Marvellous work, George.
You saved a life today.
Yes. Yes, I suppose I
did. Thank you, Detective.
But what is life?
Is the life of a child
really more valuable
than that of the noble fern?
Some believe God
created us in His image,
but there are more plants
than men on this Earth.
Who's to say God didn't
create plant in His image
and man as a mere lark?
I believe the Detective is calling me.
(STATIC HISSING)
Oh! Fiddlesticks!
- Sir?
- Huh?
What's that?
It's my latest invention,
but it isn't working.
What does it do?
It's a device capable of listening in
and amplifying criminal conversations
over great distances.
Only criminal conversations, sir?
Well, any conversations, I suppose.
Although, I don't see
the point of listening in
to conversations that aren't pertinent
to the commission of a crime.
You know, sir, I once had an
idea for similar invention,
a device that could monitor space
and listen for communications
from beyond the stratosphere.
No one lives beyond the stratosphere.
Perhaps, sir.
Or perhaps we're just not listening.
(GASPS)
George! It works!
You're welcome.
Sir. (KNOCKING)
There's been a problem
at the National Bank.
Good Lord!
Someone's used a bomb
to breach this vault!
I'm not sure about that,
sir. No blast residue.
You're right, George.
No sign of a fire or incendiary device.
Perhaps the thieves
used a wrecking ball?
I'm not sure about that, either, sir.
(GRUNTS)
Someone's robbed this
bank using a cannon.
(THEME MUSIC)
That's right, a cannon!
He set it off and an onyx orb flew like,
like a speeding train,
bringing the wall crashing down.
- And you saw this?
- Yes, sir.
I was sitting right here,
imbibing in a refreshing bottle of ale.
What time was this?
Ah, couldn't have been before
three AM. In the morning.
And how many thieves were there?
Only one, sir.
One man? Wheeling a cannon
through the streets of Toronto?
How was he able to make
off with all the money
while managing such a cumbersome weapon?
I know, sir. He wasn't
wheeling the cannon.
It was of his person.
How was the thief carrying this cannon?
It was attached to his arm.
An entire cannon?
How was he able to lift it?
This was not just any man, sir.
He was a Mechanical Man,
his arms composed not of
flesh, but of wrought iron!
Right.
If we have any more
questions, we'll let you know.
Eh.
I take it you're not
convinced by his story?
No.
Sir, you're not the only person on
the planet who can invent things.
Perhaps this Mechanical Man
is your villainous counterpart.
An ordinary man committed
this robbery, George.
Just like every other robbery
in the history of the world.
We just need to find out who.
Sir, what about the
bombing at the Don Jail?
Perhaps the man who made that bomb
has also made some sort of
mechanical suit of
armour that allows him to
break through walls
and rob banks at will.
A fanciful idea, George,
supported not by fact,
but by a town drunk.
I intend to stick with the evidence.
Well, I hardly think a
Mechanical Man made of metal
is going to leave behind fingermarks.
(MARGARET): Prices have
never been lower, Thomas.
Verna Jones bought one
at Eaton's just last week.
What do we need a refrigerator for?
- Well, to keep things cold.
- Like what?
(SIGHS) Meats, cheeses.
Why do we need to keep them cold?
They're going to end
up in the oven, anyway.
You only want one because
Verna Jones has got one!
Thomas, you are impossible.
I'll leave the Eaton's
catalogue out for you tonight.
Oh, bloody hell.
Sir, we've just returned
from the National Bank.
But we've yet to identify a suspect.
However, we believe it
could be a mad metallurgist,
and that the whole
thing could be connected
to the breakout at the Don Jail.
Where am I going to find the
money to buy a refrigerator?
(MURDOCH): Sir.
We were discussing the bank.
What's to discuss?
Solve the case!
(CURIOUS MUSIC)
(CRICKETS CHIRPING)
George Crabtree, you
are one in a million.
You're not so bad yourself.
I've known a few men in my day,
but none have come close
to satisfying me like you.
(EXHALES)
Let's make love all night.
Effie, I have to go through
these files you brought
from the Crown Attorney's office.
What did you want with those anyway?
These are all the escapees
from the breakout at the Don Jail.
I have a feeling one
of them's responsible
for the bank heist last night.
I admire you, George.
You're the best man I've ever known.
(SIGHS)
- What is it?
- Nothing.
It's just that I know
your heart will never truly be mine.
Effie, what are you on about?
You know it's already yours.
No, don't you see?
Your heart belongs to justice.
Oh, Effie.
Sir, I've got it.
Dr. Virgil von Zrill.
He was a brilliant inventor
until he was arrested
for stealing from the
doctors in his employ.
What about him?
Sir, he's one of the escapees
from the Don Jail! And look!
He was horrifically injured
when one of his inventions
went awry. He was
crippled, he lost an arm,
horrendous facial
scarring, barely survived.
Huh. George, this doesn't
seem like the type of person
that would become a criminal mastermind.
Sir, think about it! This is why!
This is why he encased himself in metal.
To make up for his broken body
and to give himself superhuman strength.
George, that's an outlandish idea.
Sir.
There's been another robbery.
I've never seen anything like it.
A Mechanical Man,
seven feet tall,
wielding a mighty cannon.
Do you mean to say he
was carrying a cannon?
It was a part of him.
Where an ordinary man would have an arm,
he had a cannon.
Thank you very much, Miss.
Dear Lord, George, you were right.
Why didn't I listen?
Your mind is so often one step ahead.
- Damn my intransigence!
- Sir, don't be hard on yourself.
We all miss things from time to time.
Sir, there's something
I haven't told you
about Dr. Virgil von Zrill.
At his trial, when he was convicted,
he vowed vengeance,
not just on the city of Toronto,
but, indeed, on all of Canada.
Sir, I fear these bank
heists are just the beginning.
Revenge on all of Canada.
George, that would mean
(DRAMATIC MUSIC)
We have to warn the Prime Minister.
- It could be dangerous.
- Dangerous, sir?
I don't know the meaning of the word.
(CROWD SHOUTING)
(CLAMOURING)
(GLASS SHATTERING)
My God, George!
He's laying waste to the entire city.
Sir, look.
It can't be.
- Mr. Prime Minister!
- Sir! He's gone.
But, George, without the prime minister,
Canada will surely fall.
(CANON BLASTING)
You devil!
You may have taken the prime minister,
but you'll never take Station House
Four of the Toronto Constabulary!
And you spent months
writing that travesty.
Sir, the publishers quite like it.
I've had several offers already.
It's an amusing yarn, I suppose.
But what are you trying to say
about the Inspector's character?
- He's a henpecked drunk.
- Uh, well, I
Crabtree, let me tell you:
It's all right making
Murdoch into a bit of a ninny,
and Watts a, a bookish bore,
but I wear the trousers in my household.
A drop of whisky never stopped
me from running a tight ship.
Sir, when one creates
a work of fiction
His name is Breckenride.
And he's from Lancashire!
Sir, what did you think of the ending?
I'm having misgivings about it.
It's a bit much.
Sir. George. Where is the Inspector?
He's on holiday. He's back tomorrow.
He's enjoying the
company of a lady friend.
Oh, right! Miss Mandelbaum.
Um, well, then perhaps
you'll want to join me, sir.
There's been an incident
down on River Street.
A carriage carrying prisoners
has been held up, and the
convicts are on the run.
Come on, bugalugs.
Let us remind you how a
real station house is run,
the ninny and the drunk.
He had a rifle. There
was nothing we could do.
Took my keys, opened the back door,
and started letting them out one by one.
- How many prisoners?
- Eleven, sir.
What did he look like?
Uh, he was short.
But other than that, I can't say.
He had a, a bandana covering his face.
Did he communicate with any of
the prisoners that he released?
By that I mean did any
of them seem to know him?
No. No, he just let
them go and they ran.
- All right. Thank you. Get back to it.
- Of course.
Right, then. We've got the
whole area cordoned off.
We've got men down on
Queen Street, up on Gerrard.
And, also, we've got officers
from Station House Six
patrolling the whole
of the river in case
any of them try to swim across.
Good thinking, sir. They won't get far.
Not while I'm in charge. Eh, Crabtree?
One by one,
they ran off, mostly in
the direction of the river.
Did any of them flee in groups?
Not that I saw.
Did any of them speak to the gunman?
Not a one. He was on his own.
Other witnesses say he
was wearing a bandana.
That's right.
A red one?
Yes, sir. What about it?
Good work, lads. Seven
of the men caught,
four still on the loose.
We have posters of the missing men
ready to be plastered all over town.
We will not rest until these
men are back behind bars.
- Carry on, gentlemen.
- Ah, sir!
Sirs.
I feel I have to mention the
perpetrator's red bandana.
What about it?
Well, don't you think it's odd
that the villain in my novel
wears a red bandana to cover up his scar
before he turns himself
into a Mechanical Man?
This is real life, Crabtree,
not a silly little novel.
Sir, you've read George's latest novel?
I have. You haven't?
Oh! He's done a right
number on you, Murdoch.
Oh.
Figure out why the man in the bandana
wants to free the prisoners
in the first place.
I have a hunch, Henry.
Why would somebody
stop a police transport
and let a bunch of prisoners go?
Uh by mistake?
Perhaps he thought it
was a different carriage
- that had money in it.
- No!
Well, actually, I suppose, maybe.
But what if he knew
one of the prisoners,
wanted to help him escape,
but decided to let the
whole lot of them go
in order to hide his
connection to that one prisoner.
It's a bit complicated.
Oh, indeed. And to pull it off
would take meticulous planning.
I think we're looking
at a master criminal.
So, why would a master criminal
want to spring a small-potato convict?
That I don't know yet.
But I think we should start by speaking
to the greatest criminal
mastermind we know.
Henry! Look at that man!
He's wearing a red bandana!
Oi! You, there. Stop!
(DRAMATIC MUSIC)
(GRUNTING)
(GRUNTING)
Well, well, well. Look who it is.
Ralph Fellows.
Enough of this daydreaming.
This is ridiculous!
Who's to say that Ralph
Fellows is even in Toronto?
No, sir, perhaps you're right.
Figure it out.
"As they all beheld George's
strapping six-foot-three frame."
Well, you did make a good
point, though, George.
- I did?
- Yes.
Whoever the man behind the
red bandana actually is,
perhaps he did want to
free one of the prisoners,
but he freed all of the prisoners
in order to obscure his connection.
Sir, my thinking precisely.
Get the court records
on all the prisoners
and see who testified
on each of their behalfs.
Perhaps we're looking for a friend,
- or a relative.
- Sir.
(CURIOUS MUSIC)
(CRICKETS CHIRPING)
(GEORGE SIGHS)
Effie Crabtree, you
are one in a million.
You're not so bad yourself.
I pulled those files you asked about.
Looking for friends and
family of the escapees?
Beauty and brains to match.
How did I ever get so lucky?
Well, I suppose I'm a
sucker for a good writer.
Have you got any ideas for
the new ending of your book?
I'm not sure. I can't
really put my finger
on what's wrong with
the current version.
Too unbelievable?
Maybe. But for me,
the villain has such good history.
That keeps it just real enough.
If I change him, then the
whole thing goes sideways.
I was talking about the hero.
He's so perfect. It's
not very believable.
Oh, so you don't think I'm perfect?
I think that the real George
Crabtree is so wonderful,
that if he were written in a book,
- nobody would believe it.
- Stop it.
Do you think I should dial back the bits
where I'm an extraordinary lover?
No, absolutely not.
The readers love the racy bits.
You're right.
And the racy bits are
the most believable.
(PLAYFUL MUSIC)
George Crabtree? Charles Chalk.
We spoke on the telephone.
Wowee! Are we ever pleased as punch
to be publishing your novel.
Can't wait to get it on the shelves.
Well, that's wonderful, sir.
Sir? Please, no need to be so formal.
- Of course, Mr. Chalk.
- Chick.
- I beg your pardon?
- It's Chick.
- Mr. Chick.
- Mr. Chalk.
- You just said it was Chick.
- You can call me Chick.
- I did call you Chick.
- You called me Mr. Chick.
- That's right.
- It's Mr. Chalk.
- Well, wha-what?
- George his name is Chick,
short for Charles, Chalk.
You can call him Mr. Chalk,
or, as he prefers, Chick.
- Mr. Chalk
- Uh
Chick. I wanted to chalk
I mean, check with you
if it's not too late
to make a couple of
changes to my manuscript.
Huh.
Changes? The type's already set.
Well, you can un-set it, can't you?
Unless you've already started printing?
I suppose.
It's a lot of work. How
big are these changes?
Yes, what kind of changes are
you thinking about, George?
Well, it's the ending.
It never quite sat right with
me. But if it's too much work
George, it's not too much work.
It's a lot of work.
Well, it's not so much
work that it can't be done.
You can change the ending, George!
I didn't know you felt that
strongly about me changing it.
You know, life is hard enough
without people like you.
- I beg your pardon?
- How long do you need, George?
A week.
Then a week you should have.
Philip, stand down.
(SIGHS)
We will publish the best book we can,
or my name's not Chick Chalk!
My lord, what a sad, bitter man.
Did you notice his handkerchief?
Whose?
Chi, Cha Mr. Chalk.
- No. What about it?
- It was red.
I just wondered if
Oh, I'm sure it's nothing.
Thank you for buying me some more time.
You know, I have half an idea
What's going Oi,
Mac! What's going on?
Uh, there's been a bank robbery!
A bank ?
I'd better attend to this.
Sir.
That's one way to make a withdrawal.
Oh. Ha-ha. Very good, sir.
Can I point out this is exactly
what happened in my novel?
- George.
- Well, it's an awful coincidence,
don't you think?
There are stark
differences between reality
and your novel, George. For example,
this was likely the result of an
incendiary device, uh, gunpowder.
And not the result of a cannonball
fired from a Mechanical Man's arm.
I suppose you're right, sir.
Aha! I believe this is the casing
of the explosive device.
Thin metal, welded shut
and likely had a
short-term-release fuse.
I've never seen anything like it.
It's crude, homemade. Then,
again, unlike your novel.
Sir, does this mean that
you've read my book already?
It was a quick read, George. Yes.
What did you think?
Well, it was, uh, brisk,
compelling, expertly written.
The ending, however
I know, sir, I know. I'm working on it.
I, I found I especially
related to the detective character.
Well, you know, sir, you provided
some inspiration for that character.
I, too, often find I
strain against the
bounds of my intellect.
- It's quite frustrating.
- Well, now, sir
Luckily, I have a constable on hand
whose genius, insight and
physical prowess know no bounds.
Sir, when one creates
a work of fiction
- Chief Constable.
- Bloody hell. Two in one night.
What?
Savings and Loan on Wilton.
Wall blown out, exactly
like that. Everything stolen.
Station House Three are investigating.
Oh, and look, this
was found at the scene.
What is this?
Sir!
Metal armour!
As if to construct a Mechanical Man?
Welcome back, Inspector.
There's a lot been happening.
So I've gathered.
So, no witnesses, no leads.
What in God's name is going on, Murdoch?
Well, sir, the similarities
to George's book
are far too much of a
coincidence to be ignored.
- You finished your novel?
- I did.
- You're a man of many talents.
- Please, don't encourage him.
And you're saying there's a connection
between these crimes and
the constable's manuscript?
Absolutely, sir. And last night,
I was reading through the case files.
One of the escapees has
connections to a criminal gang
who have robbed banks
all across Ontario.
His name is James David Anderson.
- Was he ever caught?
- Sir, still on the run.
Prime suspect, then.
Well, sir, it is compelling,
but how on Earth did this Mr. Anderson
obtain a copy of George's book?
(MACHINE CLACKING)
(CHUCKLING)
Chalk, you're wanted for
questioning down at the
What on Earth is all this?
What are you doing here?
Buh, this is nothing!
It's an advance.
These bills are from the National Bank.
It was you. You stole my book
and used it as inspiration
to go on a rampage of crime!
It was an ingenious idea.
All I had to do was follow your story,
and soon I'd have my
hands on a cool million.
- You're a villain.
- Me?
It was your sick, brilliant
mind that lit the path!
(LAUGHING MANIACALLY)
(MOCKING MANIACAL LAUGHTER)
A laugh, so maniacal.
You're a bloody lunatic, Crabtree.
And so is anyone who
would copy your book.
You're not wrong, sir.
But it appears someone has,
and George does make a good point.
Somehow, his novel got
into the hands of the thief.
And, sirs, the only person, besides us,
who's read the thing is the publisher,
who, I also noted, uses a red kerchief.
A red bandana was seen by a witness
at the site of the escape.
Right, then. Inspector,
I suggest you get hold of the
file on Mr. Anderson to Watts.
Crabtree, you go with Murdoch,
round up this publisher
and anyone else who's
read your bloody book.
Sir.
Oh, uh, George,
if you are planning
on changing the ending
of your book, anyway
What's this?
Just some mathematical
and scientific corrections
to help make the book more realistic.
Oh.
May I?
(PLAYFUL MUSIC)
James David Anderson,
known associate of Allan
Henry and the Milhouse gang.
The fugitives with the
connection to bank robbers.
Hm.
Mm.
Something the matter, Detective?
No.
You seem rather taciturn today.
Don't mind me, I wouldn't
want to go on and on
like some sort of What was it?
A, a
"A blathering philosopher"?
Watts, when one creates
a work of fiction
It's quite all right.
Don't worry, George. I liked your book.
I thought I came across just as I am.
- You've read it already?
- Absolutely.
Well, I skimmed it for my parts.
(SIGHS)
Some madman's been copying
the crimes in the novel?
I'm shocked. Shocked!
It's so fantastical as to be absurd.
And yet, somehow, it's true.
Given the book hasn't
actually been published yet,
very few people have had
the opportunity to read it.
Oh, you can't suspect me.
You carry a red
handkerchief, do you not?
Well, yes. What does that matter?
That remains to be seen.
Who else have you
shown the manuscript to?
Well, the only people
who've read it are myself
- and those in my employ.
- How many is that?
Well, there's June, of course.
Mr. Abernathy, of course.
Of course, there's Philip
and Frank and Jeffers.
That's it.
All right. We'll need all of them
to come down to the station
house for questioning.
Of course.
Sir, you don't think
this will affect my book
getting published, do you?
Not so long as we catch
whoever's behind this,
I do-don't think. Maybe.
You shared a cell with
James David Anderson?
What of it?
And you were both in the
prison transport vehicle
that was held up on River Street.
I had nothing to do with that.
I don't doubt as much.
But I wonder if your cellmate did.
How should I know?
Did he confide anything in you?
No.
Was he acting unusually
the day of the escape?
He didn't know anything.
Anyway, he's probably in
another province by now.
I saw him heading for the rail yard.
What about the man in the red bandana?
Was he headed in the same direction?
No. Didn't see where he went.
But there was one lad
who seemed to know him.
- How so?
- When he got out,
he put his hand on his shoulder,
right before he ran off.
I want men stationed at
every bank in the city.
Every post office,
every savings and loan,
- every credit union.
- We are on the job
24 hours a day until we bring him in.
Sirs! Sir lads! Lads, wait!
The Mechanical Man has been seen nearby.
What, by some bloody drunk?
No, sir. People as sane as you or I.
We're-we're getting calls.
The telephone's been
ringing off the cradle!
(DRAMATIC MUSIC)
Bloody hell, Crabtree. He's
straight out of your book.
He's taking the gold!
He appears to have
some sort of mechanism
for launching explosives
and-and not an actual cannon.
Sir, may I?
Oh my goodness.
Sir, i-i-it's the chap we spoke
to earlier, the trash collector.
I don't care who he is.
We need to bring him down
before he can use those guns.
- Prepare to fire.
- Sir?
Do you have a better idea?
Lads, take position!
(GUNS COCKING)
Ready? Fire!
(GUNFIRE)
(GROWLS)
Take cover!
(SHOUTING)
Dear God. He's an
invincible killing machine.
Our bullets are useless
against his armour!
This is no time for heroics,
lads! Fall back! Fall back!
Fall back! Fall back!
Why would anyone want to turn one
of Crabtree's stories into real life?
Is there any chance that
it's just a coincidence?
That doesn't seem likely.
So you think there's someone out there
as crackers as you are
walking around the streets of Toronto?
I have to agree with Inspector Choi.
A coincidence is just far too unlikely
given how many similarities
there are to George's book.
So that's it. I've created a monster.
An indestructible, mechanical,
killing-machine monster
capable of laying
waste to entire cities!
Let's focus on what we do know.
The Mechanical Man is one
of the escaped convicts
and he evaded recapture by
posing as a trash collector
near the site of the escape.
The man in the red
bandana must have left him
a change of clothes,
which means they knew one another.
Precisely. Whoever
the Mechanical Man is,
his accomplice must be
someone who read George's book.
We need to figure out who that is.
- (GRUNTS)
- What's the story, trash man?
How did you get your dirty
mitts on the manuscript?
Who gave it to you? Who
are you working with?
What are you talking about, George?
How do you know my name?
Come now, there's no need to
pretend we don't know one another.
- (GRUNTS)
- We don't know one another!
Of course we do.
How do you think I got your
book? You gave it to me.
- What?
- (HIGGINS): George
What on Earth are you talking about?
George!
(LOUD STOMPING)
(GROWLING)
Bloody hell. Fine!
Why don't we just have done
with it and lock Crabtree up?
There is some truth to
what George is saying.
If a tad fantastical.
Just a moment.
George created this character,
and much like we are
reflections of our Creator,
the Mechanical Man is a reflection of
George.
That is a make-believe Mechanical Man,
not whatever maniac is out
there terrorizing Toronto!
Oh, perhaps the real criminal
is someone who read George's book
and identified with the
villain character so greatly,
that he decided to recreate
his string of crimes.
So the secret to the culprit's identity
may lie somewhere in George's mind.
Oh, God help us all.
He's right. Nobody knows that
character better than you.
So what do you know about him?
Well, I did conceive of
him as a version of myself.
But instead of the world granting him
grace and opportunity,
it gives him nothing.
In fact, he's crippled by fate,
losing both an arm and a leg.
So he decides to rebuild himself.
To feel powerful in a world
where he was powerless.
Right. He doesn't think
he's doing anything wrong.
He thinks he's just evening the scales.
(BOTH): Seven-thirty.
He looks around the world
and he sees people like me.
People who are happy,
people who are lucky, and he thinks,
"Why does the world give that
to some people, but not to me?"
So he's taking what he
feels the world owes him.
Exactly.
But, George, someone like that
isn't just you if you'd been dealt
a different hand in life.
Every privilege that's
been afforded to you
has come because you meet the
world with kindness and love.
- Do you think?
- Of course.
Whoever this person is who's
decided to become your villain
must be consumed with everything
that is the exact opposite
of George Crabtree.
He must be a sad and bitter man.
Oh my goodness. Effie,
that's it! You're brilliant!
- I am?
- A sad and bitter man.
I know who it is.
Sir, with some help from Effie,
I made the connection.
I realized that chap
who does the typesetting
down at the publisher's house,
he fits the profile
of my villain exactly.
His name is Philip Armstrong.
- Do you have proof it's him?
- No, sir,
but Mr. Armstrong
appears in the case files
of one of our Don Jail escapees.
He was a character
witness for Vernon Lloyd.
- They're friends?
- Brothers.
Half-brothers, hence
the different surname.
But I asked around, and the
description of Vernon Lloyd
perfectly matches that
trash collector we spoke to.
And where is this Philip Armstrong now?
Sir, he's waiting for
us in the interview room.
I, I don't know anything about anything.
I never even read that book.
Mr. Armstrong, there's
no use in denying it.
We know you read the book.
We know you donned a red bandana
and released a wagon full of prisoners,
one of them your brother, Vernon Lloyd.
We have constables searching for
the money at your home right now.
They're also searching for your brother.
He's not there.
So you admit it, then. It's true.
Yes. Yes, it's all true.
Why?
Why did you do all this?
My brother always looked
out for me growing up.
But recently, Vernon fell on hard times.
It wasn't his fault. The
world never cared much for us,
never gave us a thing.
So, I made a plan for
us to commit a robbery.
- When was this?
- Last year.
I had it all figured out.
But it went bad.
Vernon got caught and it
it was my fault.
I was free while Vernon
was stuck in jail.
So you decided to break him out.
Thanks to you. I was actually
inspired by your novel.
It felt like you were telling my story.
Vernon and I, we-we used to play
in our grandfather's metal
shop when we were kids.
We dreamed of being invincible.
Of being men made of metal,
just like in your book.
I-I thought we could finally
make those dreams come true.
But it's
It's mad.
Yes, of course it's mad.
But I knew I could build the suit.
And he had the strength
to manipulate it.
And together we could
finally take what was ours!
All right. Enough. Where
is your brother now?
You'll never find him.
And even if you did, I mean,
how could you stop him?
You're going to take us to the
place where you built this suit.
This was grandpa's old shop.
We grew up right here,
learning the trade.
You were lucky to have a mentor.
(CHUCKLING) Lucky?
The old man was mean as a snake.
He forced us to work with
hot metal without protection.
On our birthdays,
he would throw pennies onto
the street for us to pick up,
after he'd heated them in his oven,
so they'd scald our fingers.
That's awful.
And if we complained, or cried?
That's when things got really bad,
especially when he was
suffering from the brass shakes.
That's when he would do this.
(OMINOUS MUSIC)
Dear God.
He branded you.
No wonder you sought
revenge on the world.
You're damn right.
And we'll get it, too!
My brother isn't finished!
We'll take everything we deserve.
And leave the likes of you with nothing!
Henry, take him outside.
Inspector.
Sir.
There's no doubt Vernon
Lloyd will strike again.
We just have no idea where or when.
I don't know how we're
going to stop him.
Hm. Our bullets didn't
even leave a dent.
- He nearly killed the lot of us.
- Yes.
I believe we have only one option.
- Magnets.
- Magnets?
Well, sir, he's made out of metal.
We could use magnets to stop him.
Yes! Ingenious, Constable. Hm.
Yes, George. A very good idea,
but not what I was thinking.
We need to fight fire with fire.
Detective?
We're going to make our own suit.
(TENSE MUSIC)
(WHIRRING)
This is our best idea?
Sir, the Mechanical Man is
equipped with an automatic gun
and a device that launches explosives.
We can't simply send constables
in there to take him down.
Sir, you remember what
happened last time.
So we now have our own bulletproof suit.
- You're all crackers.
- Not necessarily, sir.
I-I've equipped ours
with a non-lethal device.
Uh, an amplified version
of my weaponized capacitor.
If it strikes any part of his suit,
the metal will conduct the
entire electrical charge.
Turning its primary
feature into a weakness.
Who's going to wear it?
- I will.
- Sir, I have to object.
This whole situation is my fault.
If it wasn't for my awe-inspiring,
otherworldly imagination, none
of this would be happening.
I have to be the one to wear the suit.
I have to destroy my own creation.
Good man.
Detective, Inspector.
I have something. I've
discovered the identity of
What is going on here?
We already know the identity
of the Mechanical Man, Watts.
- It's Vernon Lloyd.
- That's right. Never mind then.
Watts!
What else have you discovered?
I may have some information
about his next steps,
but I wouldn't want to go on
and on like some sort of
"blathering philosopher."
Watts, when one creates
a work of fiction
Watts, carry on! Get on with it.
When Vernon Lloyd was in the Don Jail,
he wrote a series of letters.
They were never delivered. They
were intercepted by the guards.
He threatens to kill every jury member
and the judge for
putting him behind bars.
And the Crown Attorney.
Wait a minute.
Effie was the lead
attorney on that case.
Where's your wife now?
She's due at the courthouse today.
- We have to get down there now.
- Right.
Sir, I have to be the one.
All right, George. You'll wear the suit.
But I have a plan.
You need to lure the Mechanical Man
next to the statue of Queen Victoria
that's out front of City Hall.
- Sir, why?
- Trust me.
Get him to the statue.
(STOMPING)
(GRUNTING)
(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC)
(BREATHING HEAVILY)
(WHIRRING)
Effie!
Get down!
(GASPS)
(GUNFIRE)
(SCREAMING)
(GRUNTING)
Effie, stay back!
George?
- What's happening?!
- I think they're going to fight.
Constable George
Crabtree. Let's do this.
Get back!
(GRUNTS)
- George!
- Stay back!
(ZAPPING)
(GROANING)
(SCREAMING)
(GUNFIRE)
(ZAPPING)
(GRUNTING)
(GRUNTING)
- (CLICKING)
- Huh?
Ah!
(GRUNTS)
Sir!
(GRUNTING)
Do you really think this'll work?
We're about to find out.
George! George! The statue!
What are you waiting for?
He's not close enough.
(GRUNTING)
Get back!
(LOW WHOOSHING)
(SCREAMING)
It worked!
Murdoch, he's had enough.
(GRUNTS)
George!
Effie.
(SCREAMING)
Our grandfather always said we
would never amount to anything,
that we'd be poor our whole lives.
Of course we wanted to prove him wrong.
You had the money.
You could have simply disappeared.
And let them get away with it?
Let them get away with
locking my brother up,
the judge and jury? That
horrible lady attorney.
She was just doing her job.
That woman took away my freedom.
All we wanted to do
was just feel powerful.
And for a moment, we did.
And now you'll be going
to prison for a long time.
What will happen in the new ending?
Oh, I've got a couple of ideas.
I'll send you a copy. You
can read it in your cell.
(SOFT MUSIC)
Well, your new book
is a smash hit, George.
Readers love the new ending.
I took inspiration from real life.
Instead of the hero
doing it all himself,
all the characters had to come
together to defeat the villain.
(BOTH): Seven-thirty.
I'm not sure that's what made it a hit.
- Oh, no?
- No.
I think it's because the
readers like the racy bits.
Myself included.
Oh, is that right?
Now there's only one question.
What are you going to write next?
Another instalment?
You know, I've been
thinking about just that.
And I have two words for you:
Mole Men.
Mole men?
Mole men. They live deep beneath
the Earth's surface, subterranean.
Effie, they exist! I-I've
seen them with my own eyes.
Oh, dear.
So, what are you going to do
when you become a famous novelist?
Quit your job at the constabulary?
I shouldn't think so.
Where else would I get the
inspiration for my stories?
Mm. I suppose.
I could help you with the racy bits.
Mrs. Crabtree.
Mm.
(THEME MUSIC)