The Last Witness Page #4

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We have, in fact, perforce,

used the good name of England

like the murderers used the little

conifers to cover up a massacre."

"Let us think

of these things always

and speak of them never.

To speak of them never is the

advice which I have been giving

to the Polish Government,

but it has been unnecessary.

Affliction and residence

in this country

seem to be teaching them how much

better it is in political life

to leave unsaid those things

about which one feels

most passionately."

Colonel.

I've seen the papers.

A report by a Owen O'Malley,

the British Ambassador

to Poland.

You were right,

they knew all along.

Ivan Krivozertsev is dead.

He was found yesterday,

hanging from a tree.

In the evening.

So you see, Mr. Underwood, I doubt anyone will

ever be given the chance to see those papers.

Why, er...

Why didn't you hide him sooner?

He wouldn't let us.

It was only when you took

the box that he reconsidered.

He approached the Red Cross,

joined our troops in Italy,

where he met Mr. Nowak.

One drunken night, he let slip

he was there at Katyn...

when it happened.

No others made it to the West.

He was the only one to escape the

area when the Soviets recaptured it.

He was an embarrassment

to the Soviets.

Awkward for the British.

Dispensable to the Americans.

He approached them

at Nuremberg and...

they almost sent him back

to the Russian sector.

Did you tell anyone you

had seen him, Mr. Underwood?

I had nothing to do with this.

What is it?

Who did you tell?

Excuse me.

I'm sorry. I can't let you in.

Orders.

I need to talk to my brother.

Captain Underwood's

been reassigned.

And Lieutenant Mitchell?

I don't know.

- Number, please?

- Foreign Office Archive.

Putting you through.

Archive.

How can I help you?

- Philip Edwards, please.

- One moment, sir.

I'm afraid Mr. Edwards

is on leave.

When will he be back?

May I enquire

as to your reason for calling?

Sir?

Western Post.

Come and get your Western Post.

Western Post.

Come and get your Western Post.

Fresh off the press!

Thank you, sir.

Western Post. Come and get

your Western Post. Fresh off the press!

Western Post!

Western Post!

Come and get your Western Post!

Fresh off the press!

Mr. Hamilton,

can I talk to you?

I'm sorry, Stephen, but

you don't work here anymore.

Excuse me?

Lovely idea... to give the

festival to the typist.

You were right.

She shows great promise.

So that's why she'll be

doing your job from now on.

Now, that's a month's pay.

Clear your desk.

I have a story.

I don't want to hear it.

The British Government

is covering up the murder

of over 15,000

Polish officers and men...

by the Soviets in 1940.

They sold out a whole nation.

Their own allies.

A country they went to war

to protect.

And it doesn't end there.

Yesterday evening, the last witness to

that massacre was murdered right here,

in Bristol.

Well...

you certainly have

a vivid imagination.

What did they say to you, Frank?

I beg your pardon?!

That you'd... lose your job?

Lose the paper?

Huh? Be disgraced?

That it's your patriotic duty

not to print this?

If you don't leave right now,

I'll have you thrown out.

Keep your money. I resign.

Oh, Mr. Underwood.

I'll be wanting to redecorate

in the very near future

so have to ask you

to vacate your room.

But as I'm not one to throw

anyone onto the street,

I will of course allow you time to

find suitable alternative lodgings.

Two weeks should be more than

enough, I'm sure you'll agree?

And you have a visitor.

I didn't think

this would happen.

What did you do?

Stephen, I just wanted you

to be safe.

What did you do?

Mason asked me to watch Loboda

and tell him everything.

You told him where he was?

Why didn't you tell me

that Mason wanted him watched?

I didn't think it would stop you! I

thought it would make things worse!

Worse?

He's dead.

They found him hanging

from a tree.

I know.

And if I could undo

what I've done, I would.

I didn't think Mason was capable of

something like this. I still don't.

What did they do with John?

They took him to London.

You won't be able

to see or speak to him.

They're posting him

overseas.

I didn't give him these.

They mean nothing now.

- I want you to leave.

- Stephen...

I want you to leave now.

An inquest before our Sovereign Lord the

King, in the parish of Flax Bourton,

in the County of Somerset, on this

the third day of November, 1947,

before one of the coroners

of our said Lord the King,

for the said County of Somerset,

touching the death of Ivan Krivosertsev,

known as Michael Loboda,

and upon the view of his body.

Er, have the witnesses

been sworn in?

They have, sir.

Well, let's get going then,

shall we?

Were about five, I'd say.

I was down Long Orchard.

I, er, works there, you see.

And by the rail bridge,

coming back up

from Court House Farm.

I sees this gentleman

hanging from a tree.

Apple tree, it were.

He was hanging about eight feet

up from a leather strap.

It appeared to me that the deceased

had placed the strap around his neck,

climbed the tree, secured

the other end to the branch

and jumped off.

We untied this and

lowered him to the ground.

He was already cold. Stiff.

We searched the body, and

in a wallet we found three letters

one of which was marked

"Secret Service."

Carry on.

We then took him to

the mortuary at Long Ashton.

I knew him well.

We had been friends since 1945.

He was happy.

He was proud of who he

was, and what he had seen.

He did drink a lot, but he

could stand a lot as well.

I do not know any reason

why he should hang himself.

He wouldn't do this.

May it duly be recorded here,

on presentation

of all inquiries under oath,

that I, as appointed coroner

of the County of Somerset

by the office of

His Majesty the King,

on deliberating the probable cause

of death of Michael Loboda,

also known as

Ivan Krivosertsev,

do allege a verdict

of suicide...

by hanging.

These proceedings

are duly closed.

Surely you're not

going to accept that.

I have to accept it.

This is now just another suicide

that no one will want to hear about.

What about the letters

in his wallet?

We have not been allowed

to see them.

Why weren't they read out?

I'm very sorry, Mr. Underwood,

but maybe if you'd not become involved,

there would be no need to know.

Look, Colonel, I'm sorry but

I did what I thought was right.

Did you? Really?

We still have this.

Testimony is worth nothing

without the man.

Even if it's not

accepted in the courts,

it still brings the story

out into the open.

- That's all you need, isn't it?

- Yes, Mr. Underwood, but there's nothing more I can do.

We have been told

in no uncertain terms

that the newspapers

have been strongly advised

never to raise

the subject again.

My apologies, I have to go.

He did not deserve this.

He was a good man.

I'm so very sorry,

Colonel.

I truly am.

Don't you dare

walk away from me!

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