Come in T-64, Your Time Is Ticking Away

Arthur has a share in a mini-cab firm, and the firm has a problem: its drivers are being attacked and its cars vandalised by a couple of persistent local louts. The sensible move would be to call the police. But Arthur's partner Kevin is having none of it, because Kevin's books wouldn't survive a police inspection. So Terry goes in undercover as a driver to find out who's behind the trouble, and, on Arthur's instructions, to work out why Kevin is so anxious to buy his partner out. Nobody in this firm wants the police anywhere near the books, which is how most of Arthur's businesses run.

The mini-cab world suits the story, an all-night rank of grumbling drivers and a small business held together by goodwill and dodgy paperwork. Terry fits in easily, which is the point, and the investigation turns up an unexpected source for all the trouble, one that leaves both partners looking foolish in different directions. The trouble, when traced, leads somewhere neither partner expected, which is the show's favourite place to end up.

Alfred Burke's Kevin is a lovely study in awkward guilt, and George Layton's Des, Michael Bruce's Barry, Charlie Hawkins's Greg, Darryl Read's Billy, Oscar James's Dave, William Morgan Sheppard's John and Diana Malin's Debbie all put in the kind of solid supporting work the early series could always rely on. Burke, in particular, makes dodging the taxman feel like a full-time occupation.

Tony Hoare and Leon Griffiths wrote it, Francis Megahy directed.

The title, a radio call sign turned threat, suits the mood: something ticking away under the surface of a very ordinary business. And the reveal, when it comes, explains why the whole thing felt slightly off from the start. In the mini-cab trade, as in everything Arthur touches, the driver is the last person to hear the full story.