DCI Luther.
We've got a customer, boss.
- DS Halliday. - Morning.
The killer took his eyes and cut his tongue out.
Witness hasn't a clue as to what happened.
The victim's an ex-pupil.
Lee Peck. Seems like the killer came from nowhere.
- How's he doing that? - That's LEDs sewn into his hood.
It confuses CCTV.
I need a favour.
Someone's got George Cornelius on the hook.
- Errol? - If they catch me wearing this,
I'm dead about 18 times.
I've got this thing round my neck!
I think it's a bomb!
We'll make sure you're looked after until this is all put to bed.
Our tip line got a call from a Dr. Vivien Lake.
- She's worried about one of her patients. - James Hauser. Yeah.
He's a very troubled man.
I don't think we're looking at a normal doctor-patient relationship.
James!
He cut his own throat!
Something's wrong. It's not right.
Then let's go and see him together.
You didn't have to cut me!
Look what you did to my arm! That is the last time
I humiliate myself for you.
Where's my boy? Come on, John!
I'm just doing due diligence. Making sure you're not part of it.
Part of it? Why would I be a part of it?
_
Okay, so where do I meet him?
Well, apparently,
there's a bench on the north side of the promenade
on the corner of, erm, Spitsenstraat and Houtdok-Noordkaai.
They'll meet you there.
And you're sure he's ready to pay?
_
Merci.
Jacob, how did it go?
It's all gone according to plan.
My men will have your diamonds by now.
Thank you.
_
All right, all right.
Wotcha.
Don't pretend you're not pleased to see me.
I'm not. I'm a bit surprised you're alive.
I didn't come looking for joy unconfined, just a...
place to hide.
Maybe a cup of tea and a chocolate digestive.
Please.
Nope.
Oh...
- Synced and corrected by chamallow - - www.addic7ed.com -
Ow.
Ugh.
Ow!
Ah!
Ah. Ow.
Alice,
I don't want anything to do with it.
I want you patched up
and out of the door. Do you understand me?
Ow.
Ow! Ow.
So, what happened?
A big boy did it and ran away.
Mmm.
You robbed me, George.
I can understand why you think that, but,
they stole from us both.
All right, what do you want? I'm a thief. I've robbed you.
How was I to know you're basically the Tasmanian Devil?
Make the transfer.
Pay what you owe, plus, erm, 20% for the inconvenience.
I'm afraid I have to decline.
I beg your pardon?
I'm not buying what you're selling.
I'm selling your son, George.
Even so.
You crack me up, George.
You really do. But I really am going to need that money
or I'll take Alice's head to the zoo and feed it to the monkeys.
Oh, no, come now. You're not gonna do that here.
Ow.
Kidnapped his son and tried to do him over.
Ow!
George and I had a little chat.
- Oh. - I say "chat".
He beat the crap out of me.
Ow!
- Oh. - Ah.
Ah. I see... Ow!
Hold up. Hold up.
Sorry, boss.
I've been reading this
and it's James Hauser's psychiatric file.
Something's off.
All right, yeah, erm... Come on in.
Come on, yeah.
Close the door behind you.
So, Vivien Lake gives us her patient's psychological history.
It talks a lot about his shame
and anxiety.
Now, the actual file talks a lot
about his obsession with suicidal ideation,
- I mean, a lot. - Does she mention that he's a suicide risk?
- Not once. - Let's have a look.
So...
... what if you're right? What if she did cross the line?
Vivien Lake and James Hauser in a psychosexual...
... jamboree. A big old bag of wrong?
Speaking of which, erm,
do you mind if I...
Oh, yeah. Yeah. Upstairs, first on the right.
Well, Hauser spirals out of control, Vivien's now implicated.
She faces ruination, maybe prison.
But the one thing we knew about him, or thought we knew,
or whatever, he didn't want to get caught.
He was audacious, but he was also careful.
With the masks, with the cameras, the escape routes...
... decides to kill himself rather than get arrested.
Maybe he's ashamed? I mean, he could be.
Who knows what drives someone to kill themselves, right?
Except in this case, someone knows. Vivien Lake.
Yeah?
Er, oh, boss?
I think DS Halliday is on to something.
I think she probably is.
Yes.
So, erm,
what's the next step? How... How do we play it?
Well, it won't be easy.
Her defences are up. She's calculating.
She's intelligent and she's got nerve.
Besides, we don't have any hard evidence of wrongdoing.
No, we don't.
Is she married?
Eighteen years.
Happily?
Apparently.
Why?
Well, the happier the marriage, the easier it is to weaponise.
And the Cynic of the Year Award goes to...
No, I'm not a cynic.
That's basically my problem.
I think we, er, pay the husband a visit
and then see how Vivien Lake reacts.
Guv?
Yeah.
And you're off.
Oh, sod this.
He thinks you're my weak spot.
He thinks he can hurt me by hurting you.
Bollocks.
- No, no. - No!
No!
Go and check.
No, no, no!
What's the rule?
Play safe.
And did you?
No.
James was our one contingency.
Took me months to lay the groundwork.
And now it's thrown away.
Just used up.
Wasted.
I'm sorry.
I hope you know I can't go back to my house until this is put right.
What if it can't be put right?
No, I want my life back the way it was until you pitched up.
It will be put right.
- Sorry! - You're really not.
What do you want me to say?
I've rather missed all this.
- So have you, probably. - I really haven't.
- Oh, pish. - Look at my face.
- Shh! - Look at it!
- Oh... - Er...
- What about this one? - Yeah, yeah. Hurry up.
- Just... - No, I got it.
Shit, come on.
Ah, magic.
Well, she sounds very keen.
- Who? - Your new bestie. What's her name?
Anne of Green Gables, erm, I don't know, Heidi.
- Halliday. - "Halliday." Oh! Oh, that's interesting.
What is?
Well, the impersonal use of her surname.
Are you trying to un-sex her in my mind?
No.
Because, honestly, why on Earth would you do that?
I just don't want you turning her face into a... a handbag.
How did you do it?
Does it matter?
Yes, it matters.
I saw the murder report.
Your body on the slab. I saw all of that.
Oh, John, don't be insulting.
There's not much you can't buy from a retiring officer
with a crappy pension and a chip on his shoulder.
All I wanted to do
was die, disappear, and leave you in peace.
But George Cornelius put paid to that,
and that's why I'm back to rap his knuckles.
Is that all you're back for?
What else is there?
You couldn't just walk away?
No, of course not.
I had to be dead.
That's how all your best relationships end.
You look very handsome.
I like your tie.
You bought it for me.
- Milan. - I remember.
You wore it the night you kicked that Somali rent-boy half to death.
No more risks.
No.
We have to be absolutely sure
you're not developing any problems with impulse control.
I'm not.
Because what's the rule?
Play safe.
Honestly.
Girl on the bus, she went... So scared.
Be that as it may,
don't let it happen again.
You need to be more careful.
DCI Luther sends his apologies.
You've got me today, I'm afraid.
DCI Luther brings cake.
- He does? - Usually.
Are we talking about the same DCI Luther?
Big chap, likes cake.
You're going to need a bucket.
Er, for what?
To be sick into.
Do people really do that?
Now and again.
Too much cake.
Perhaps we should crack on.
There's a deep, obliquely-placed incise neck injury
at the front side of the neck.
There are no other injuries.
No hesitation cuts, no defence injuries.
The pattern of the injury is consistent with suicide.
That he cut his own throat and bled to death.
Er, the lack of hesitation injuries, how significant is that?
Ordinarily, I'd say very.
It's quite an endeavour to take a scalpel to your own throat
and do this without wavering.
But?
But Mr Hauser seems quite accustomed
to various levels of self-mutilation.
I found 39 needles
embedded in the lower abdomen, the perineum and the testicles.
I'm sorry, when you say "needles," what do you mean?
Needles. Household sewing needles.
And, er, who put them there?
He did.
The oldest of the needles has been in situ for some time.
Years, possibly.
More grunt, more finesse.
These are absolutely the right wheels.
I know my wheels, man.
These are the right wheels for the terrain.
What are you doing, man?
Whoa, whoa, whoa.
Shh, shh.
- Hello, boss. - Benny,
I need you here.
I'm sorry, boss, I think I've caught that norovirus.
I've basically been up all night turning myself inside out.
I don't care if you've shit out your own liver on Oxford Street.
I need you here, now.
Then I'm on my way.
Sorry, Minty, mate, I'm going to have to tip.
And that's it, is it?
That's police protection in this day and age?
Try not to drink all the milk, eh?
Jeremy Lake's office.
I'm afraid Mr Lake's not yet in the office.
Can I take a message for you, Mrs Lake?
Stay close to Mummy, darling.
Okay.
Sorry about that. Now, where were we last time?
- Morning. - Morning.
Mmm-hmm.
- Morning. - Morning.
- Morning, Miriam. - Morning, Jeremy.
- Mrs Lake left a message for you. - Thank you.
Oh, and Eleanor Cadman's 15 minutes early.
Ah.
Eleanor, I'm Jeremy Lake.
Has someone talked you through the procedure?
- Er, no. - Oh. May I?
- Yes, of course. - Mmm.
Yeah, sorry.
You have a condition known as mitral valve regurgitation.
The valve inside your heart isn't closing properly,
so blood is leaking back.
You're a diseased whore,
so today we're going to replace the faulty valve.
Now, I'm going to make an incision down the centre of your chest,
and then I'm going to saw through your sternum and separate the halves.
Your heart is surrounded by a membrane, called the pericardium.
I'm going to cut through that and kill you,
then I'm going to make an incision
into your superior and inferior vena cava,
and attach a very thin tube called a cannula.
I'm sorry,
what did you say?
Don't worry, I've done it 100 times.
Right.
I had to keep it.
Issues with the will.
I bet there were.
Typical Mum and Dad.
Didn't actually write one.
Did you know the observable universe got bigger?
No, I missed that.
Well, it's true.
Last time I saw you, we assumed there were about 200 billion galaxies.
The revised estimate puts it at two trillion, so,
what we believed to be absolutely everything
was basically just a rounding error.
Closer to zero
than the true number.
- Great. - It's funny, really.
We fantasise about these things.
You become
enraptured with how meaningful it will all be.
And with each repetition, the fantasy becomes more refined,
until one day it's perfect.
What you'll do,
what they'll say,
what words and what precise tone of voice, the look...
The look in their eyes when they say it.
The reality can never measure up.
It was such an anticlimax.
I almost wished I'd never done it.
That's why meeting you is such fun.
You made it meaningful.
And you'll be glad I did it.
- Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. - Oh, no, don't be.
They were dead anyway.
You made me feel better.
Turned it into a sport.
- It wasn't that. - Of course it was.
Not in the end.
No.
That's what spoiled it.
Is that why you left?
No, John, you left first.
Right.
Where is he?
This way.
Funny.
I was never allowed boys in here.
I only gave him a small sedative,
but he's still away with the fairies.
I think we have to take him back to his dad.
Er, no, in all honesty, I'm not sure his dad wants him.
Look.
Yeah, look, the poor boy's an embarrassment.
Cornelius can't just take him back and pretend it never happened.
It would weaken him.
He has to punish us and be seen to punish us.
"We" are not "us".
Well, ask him that. He thinks we're up a tree.
K-I-S-S-I-N-G.
Yeah, well, I'll have to figure out a way to make him
come out of this looking stronger.
Or option two,
we kill him and run.
We tried that. You got scared, remember?
- No, John, that's not what happened. - Then what happened?
You left.
If that's what you think, then you remember it wrong.
I've got to go.
More work, is it?
Uncuff him.
If we want to disappear...
I mean, really disappear...
we need to liquidate these.
... man who is targeting shoppers.
Why does it matter?
- Does it arouse you? - No.
Do I?
Yes.
Well, then you're looking in the wrong direction, John.
Some of these people would still be alive if I was there.
How is he?
Oh, he's a bit woozy, but he'll live.
Silly sod.
Well, I appreciate the courtesy.
I told you I'd sort it.
Did you know about this, honestly?
No.
Well, she was there, wasn't she? Last night, at your gaff?
Yeah, she showed up five minutes before you did.
Oh.
So, where has she been hiding all this time,
the Wicked Bitch of the West?
I don't know
- and I don't care. - Hmm, fair enough.
More to the point,
where is she now?
Give her to me, and you and me are all square.
This is about a lot more
then getting my boy back.
Yeah, I know what it's about, George.
That doesn't mean we can't make it right.
How do you propose to do that?
Money.
Where'd you get all this money?
It's money tied into my house.
You'd really do that?
Give up everything you earned, everything you've worked for?
Yeah.
For her?
Huh?
Let me get my boy back home.
I'll give you a bell.
Wakey, wakey.
We're done. You can leave.
John, tell me, what did you do?
I paid him off.
I'm sorry, what with? You don't have any money.
You don't know me as well as you think you do.
There's always option two.
No, this is not my fight, this is
some hole you've dragged me in and I've just dragged us out, okay?
So now you can go home.
- I'm not yours to... - Alice, we're done.
You can go.
You're looking in the wrong direction.
Well, why does it matter?
About half a million people are murdered every year.
That's about 10,000 a week, 1,400 a day.
One per minute.
That's rounding the figures.
- And excluding death by... - So?
So chances are it's happening right now
in Distrito Central, Port-au-Prince, Cape Town.
So why does this one matter more?
Does the pressure of the moral circle decrease
the further you get from the centre?
Because that's not really morality, is it?
That's more a kind of...
sanctimonious provincialism.
Some of these people would still be alive if I was there.
Well, as untestable hypotheses go, that's a doozy.
I just know.
And you don't think this assumption of omnipotence
is a touch narcissistic?
Because I have to say, it didn't help dear old Justin Ripley,
did it?
Sorry about that. I had to drop something off.
Oh, yeah? What, a body?
- A sofa? - A box that said "Mind your own".
Is there anything that I need to know about?
No.
- Anything I need to follow up on? - No, you're good.
- Anything I can help with? - You're helping.
This is helping.
Jeremy Lake, I'm DCI John Luther, this is DS Halliday.
What would you like, a round of applause?
Wouldn't hurt.
I don't mean to be ill-mannered but I'm due in surgery shortly, so...
Can we have a seat for a moment?
You have a medical condition which requires it?
Er, no.
Well, then, yes, I mind.
Er, we're just gathering background information, really.
Well, I'm not sure I can be much help.
At least not in that regard.
How much do you know about your wife's patient,
James Hauser?
Before last night, nothing.
So you were unaware of the, er,
intense nature of their relationship?
"Intense"?
Yeah, I think that's the right word.
Is it?
Vivien and I don't discuss patients.
Is there a reason for that?
Well, absolutely. Acute lack of interest.
They're like
battery-hens shitting out identical neuroses,
each of them feeling different in exactly the same way.
Erm, how's Vivien feeling?
It must have been quite the wrench
losing somebody she became so close to.
Vivien is my wife,
not my chattel.
She can do whatever she chooses with whomever she chooses.
Er, personally,
I very much doubt she'd risk her career by sexually amusing herself
with some masturbating oddball who got his
jollies by jamming pins into his testicles
and threading rusty wire down his urethra.
I certainly haven't noticed
any wounding to her buttocks or breasts,
which, I understand, were his areas of particular interest.
Which is before he started vivisecting them.
Before then, yes.
Now, if your hope in coming here
was to deploy vapid innuendo and state-sponsored slut-shaming,
in an attempt to arouse my jealousy and have me implicate my wife
in some imaginary wrong-doing, then I'm afraid
you've had rather a wasted journey.
You're looking in the wrong place.
For what?
Whatever you might be looking for.
Unless I'm wrong,
and you just wanted to fill up the old wank bank.
In which case I'm happy to oblige.
Would you like to know what she likes in bed?
- How often? Aggressively... - Jeremy,
we're just trying to understand what happened last night.
Oh, I see.
Oh, that's easy. Er, last night,
as a result of your catastrophically poor judgment, a man died.
And now you'd like to find a way to hold my wife responsible.
Honestly, best of luck with that.
We'll see you in court
- if we don't see you before. - I'm sorry, what do you mean by that?
I'd have thought it fairly unambiguous.
Well...
- Thanks for that. - Ah, been a pleasure.
I don't know about you, but I liked him.
Well, for someone who doesn't know anything about James Hauser, he...
He seemed to know a lot about James Hauser.
- Yeah, he did. - Breasts, buttocks,
rusty old wires down the old chap. Is that a thing?
No, not in my house it's not.
- So what was he looking at? - Sorry, guv?
I mean, when we walked in, he was holding up an MRI to the light.
Well, er, he's a surgeon.
No, he's a heart specialist.
Why was he holding up an MRI of someone's head?
- Could be a number of reasons. - Name one.
Yeah, I guess that is weird. Am I wrong, is it weird?
It's weird.
So, whose head was he looking at?
Let's get back and find out.
Eleanor?
So how are we doing?
No, actually...
- I don't want to do this. Can we stop? - All right,
Let's crack her open, shall we?
See what's inside.
We're in.
Roseanna, purse string.
- Right. - I'm sorry.
That's all right.
Give Heparin, please.
Scissors.
Diane, clip.
DS Silver, I need you here now.
No lies, no excuses, now.
I've got to take this.
Erm, why don't you just go on and dig into that surgeon.
He feels wrong.
Yeah, like a kitten kebab.
George?
Something's been needling at me since we spoke.
Oh, okay, what's that?
Do I look like a tart to you, John?
I mean, do I look like I learned my trade
noshing off Tory MPs in public lavs?
I don't follow. What?
Why would you think you could buy me?
Honestly, it's baffling.
George, look, whatever's happening here,
all right, just... Just stop.
All right, just pump your brakes, take your tax, and let it go.
Otherwise it's starting... It's gonna get out of control.
Whose control? Not mine.
Now, you bring her to me, John, then we can call it square.
I can't bring her to you, she's gone. I don't know where she's gone.
All right?
Which is what I thought you'd most likely say. Hold on.
George, I...
George, I am warning you...
You're warning me?
Whatever you're thinking of doing, stop.
You've got a pair of spuds on you, I'll give you that. Ha!
George.
Stop.
That woman is a debt you owe me, John. I want her.
I can't do what can't be done. She's gone.
I have no idea where she is.
Oi!
All right, all right, all right.
"All right," what?
- I'll do it. - You'll do what?
I'll bring her to you.
You sure now?
Just stop.
No messing.
No amusing chit-chat.
No prevari-fucking-cation. You get this done.
It's done. I'll bring her to you.
Oh, God!
I know how much the idea's always excited you
to do it while everyone looks on, but that level of risk...
There was no risk.
You were aroused, sexually.
I could see it.
Now, I know how difficult it is
watching the days slip by, wanting each one to be special,
but you have to understand
that I still have a life to live.
A career you're putting at risk.
My liberty.
Of course, sorry.
Are you having any problems with recall?
No.
Your appetite?
Well, it's a little diminished.
No instances of pica or unusual cravings or anything?
No. Just the usual unusual cravings.
I wish there was more I could do for you.
No one could do more.
I love you.
I love you, too.
Are you out tonight?
No. Straight home.
I'm tired.
I'll wait up for you.
Alice?
- Penny, is it? - Mmm.
I'm Alan, Vickie's dad.
- Oh, right! Hello. - Hi.
Oh, is it... Is it going to fit?
Is that for the fridge?
Oh.
I don't know.
I haven't misjudged it, have I?
Anyways, she's double-parked outside,
so best crack on. Erm...
Mmm... Ninety-five, wasn't it?
- Yeah, it was. - Er... Call it 100.
Oh, thank you.
- Look, yeah, you better come in and... - Yeah.
... see if that's going to work.
Whoop.
- You all right? - Yeah.
- Right, here we are. - Ah.
Let's just get this...
Oh! Oh, God!
Babe?
Is someone going to get that?
Is anyone going to get that?
Apparently not.
Hello.
- Are you Alastair? - No.
Er, George sent me. I am, er,
welcome home present.
Oh.
Yeah, he's right this way.
Oh, no, no, no, no, no.
I think I can take it from here, hmm?
Good luck.
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