All language subtitles for Lewis - 01x02 - Old.School.Ties.WS.DVDRip.XviD-REMAX_640x352

We live in a world of information.

We cyberspace is chock -a -block with
the stuff.

Half of it is accurate but boring.

The other half is just plain wrong and
useless.

But 1 % of it is of great value.

And 1 % of that 1 % is lethal.

Cheers, Joe. To Joe. Horrible. Nice. He
makes you run like it.

Happy birthday, Joe.

That's what I wanted.

I got a pony for my 25.

She's already got a pony.

I was a sneak thief.

I hacked into the Pentagon, the Ministry
of Defense, City of London and other

places, and I had a good look at their
dirty underwear.

Tell you, not a good way to make
friends.

I wouldn't blame them for wanting me
dead.

Yes, yes, I've seen it.

Well, I suppose one should be grateful
that the apostrophe is in the right

place.

Of course, I have taken remedial action.

Have you picked your first victim yet?

How long a list do you want?

I'm speaking to ex -criminal turned best
-selling author, Nicky Turnbull. Mr.

Turnbull. Nicky.

Sorry, Nicky.

On the cover of your paperback, you're
called the first of the rock 'n 'roll

hackers. Would you like to elaborate?

We live in a world of information.

Cyberspace is chock -a -block with us
still.

Top there.

Hi, Pat. It's your dad. I got your
message.

I'll try again this evening.

Let's try and have a conversation one of
these other days, or one of these

weeks. Love you.

Morning, sir. Governor wants to ask.

All right. Mr. Governor from your nails.

Does the name Nicky Turnbull mean
anything to you?

Celebrity criminal.

I happened to catch him on the radio on
the way in. Any conclusions?

I wasn't really paying much attention.

He's been getting death threats.

His agent telephoned. Could we keep an
eye on him while he's in Oxford?

Babysitting? I'm not utterly convinced
about these death threats, but on the

other hand, I made a discreet call to
Whitehall.

Mr Turnbull's not without enemies.

I don't suppose you've read his book?

No, it passed me by.

Just out in paperback. The astonishing
story of how a boy from the wrong side

the tracks on Tyneside uncovered the
deadliest secrets of MI5 and the

First rock and roll hacker.

Ah, you were paying attention.

Well, I've been sort of sunk in.

He also stole a few million quid from
various corporate piggy banks, including

couple of Oxford colleges, ending up in
prison where he learnt to be a writer

and found redemption.

Warms your heart, doesn't it?

I can think of a better way to warm my
heart.

But he's from your part of the world, so
you can talk to him about whippets and

leaks and Alan Shearer, is that his
name?

Yeah, that's his name, but he's retired
now.

There's the book, and there's a copy of
his Oxford itinerary. Try and keep him

alive till four o 'clock tomorrow.

And maybe check whether he's really
retired.

Noted.

I ran out of this place when it was a
prison.

I suppose it's a compliment to our clean
-up rate that it isn't needed anymore.

Yeah, that must be it.

Finished that already?

I've sort of speed -read it. OK.

Any good?

It's exploiting the public's fascination
with crime and criminals.

Are we being exploited?

I wonder if this police protection is
just a publicity stunt.

I wouldn't be against it, sir.

What is it about people that wear dark
glasses even when the sun isn't shining?

Wow. A formidable police presence, eh?

Your agent says you've had death
threats.

We've been ordered to give you
protection.

I could have done with you two when I
was in prison.

The old lads give you a hard time.

It's all in the book.

Don't suppose you've read it yet, Putin?
No, I've read it.

He's a good lad, your sergeant.

I know.

I haven't read your book, so you'll need
to tell me who might like to kill you.

I certainly upset people in the
Pentagon.

And in Whitehall, I caused one or two
early retirements on full pension, like.

Then I took a few million from a couple
of chaps in the city of London.

They do it to each other all the time,
like, but they don't like it when it's a

lad like me.

Robin Hood of the 90s. I stole from the
rich and I kept it for myself.

That's very good.

I'm quoting your book.

As I said, very good.

Why would any of these people want to
kill you now?

This was all years ago. You say you've
retired.

Or is it just publicity for your
paperback?

Probably the publication of the
paperback has reminded them that I know

some of the bodies are buried.

Hotel security, James.

So did you get back home much?

Every night.

Was there a major incident?

No.

I mean, up north.

Last proper visit, 15 years ago. My
Uncle Harry's funeral.

Don't you miss it?

If I did, I'd go up more often.

Are we, man?

You'd take the lad out of Tyneside.
You'd kind of take Tyneside out of the

Sorry. I've never been much of a
professional northerner.

Thank you very much, Mr. Webster. Enjoy
your stay.

I shall make resolute effort, so do you.
Thank you.

Excuse me.

How can I help you, sir?

I was wondering if you could tell me
about hotel security.

Security? As in people coming in and
going out. I see evidence of CCTV.

Yes?

I suppose that's the security.

Covering what? The main entrance and the
exit to the car park?

Well, yes.

Does it run 24 hours?

I expect so.

I go off at five.

Honey, over to... His name's Paul. He's
a proper hotel person. I'm only part

-time. OK, well, thanks, Chloe.

Oh, what are you reading?

PPE. Politics, Philosophy, Economics.

Good luck. Have a nice day.

Hi, Mr Turnbull. Nicky.

Nicky. We are your reception committee.

Caroline Morton, reading English and
union president.

David Harvey, union secretary.

I wrote the grovelling invitation.

Which I dictated because I do long words
and I schmooze well. Joe Gilchrist,

student journalist.

I'm a rugby player. I mainly do muscle.

Why? Didn't I see you playing for
England?

You were there.

No, on the box leg.

So you probably saw the giant Aussie who
jumped on my leg and knackered my knee.

I haven't played since.

But we help him with his therapy.

I'll bet you do.

Stephen Gilchrist, Joe's brother, I'm
not on any committee. I just like to

around for the free suppers. Try to keep
my sister out of trouble.

Totally without success.

Now there's a surprise.

But we let Stephen do the money.

He'll be dealing with your expenses.

Well, that's easy. There aren't any.

The check will be in the post tomorrow.

Right.

I'm an old family friend from Tyneside,
just passing through.

Shall we sit down and relax?

Anybody object to champagne?

How do you want to organise this, sir?

Well, for a start, it's not a two -man
job.

I don't think it's a...

Proper job at all.

Afternoon shift or evening shift, take
your pick.

Well, afternoon would be fine. I'm meant
to be doing something this evening, but

I can change it if you've got plans.

I very rarely have plans.

Sign your book.

I shall no doubt treasure it.

Tom, my favourite copper. Tom?

Tom. James.

Not even close, are they?

Very spelt favourite.

They owe only you the wrong way around,
and he's supposed to be a writer.

Yeah, they've got computer spelling
machines to do that for you nowadays.

Keep an eye on me, Tom. I might end up
killing the bugger myself.

Cheers. Cheers.

See you later.

Hi, Ken Cunningham.

Who is he?

Special branch?

No, I could tell you, but I'd have to
shoot you.

We've got a present for you.

Good. A present.

My newspaper.

Jo wants to be a tabloid editor when she
grows up. I've told her she can't do

both, but she ignores me.

So who's Sam? An eminent professor of
English literature.

But Sam isn't his real name.

And he's got it begun.

Examination cheating. Computer assisted.

Sounds good.

And next week we hang him out to dry.

We're also hoping you might give us an
in -depth interview while you're here.

We? Caroline and I work together on
these assignments.

Well, you might find my depths a bit
shallow, but if you don't mind taking

chance... We all believe in taking
chances.

He's everything I hate.

Everything? Deliberately criminal and
professional Geordie.

That's only two things.

It's enough to keep me going.

Our speaker tonight is described by his
publishers as the first of the rock and

roll hackers.

His book bears the mouth -watering
promise soon to be a major feature film,

I know many would -be Oscar winners in
this room would like to follow in those

footsteps, preferably without the
intervening prison phantom.

So, we will be listening with more than
usual interest to Nicky Turnbull.

Thank you, Bonnie Loss.

If you'd told me when I was a little lad
growing up in Viking that one day I'd

be speaking to the Oxford Union, I'd
have said, don't be daft, man.

And Caroline's right. Stay out of
prison.

The food's terrible.

Room service was lousy and it's full of
Chelsea supporters.

I escaped by writing a book.

Let me tell you about it.

We live in an age of information.

Cyberspace is chock -a -block with the
stuff.

Half of it is accurate but boring.

The other half just plain wrong and
useless.

Just 1 % is of great value.

And 1 % of that 1 % is lethal.

That's where the gold's hidden.

That's where I went prospecting with my
little pick and shovel.

Well, me dad's a coal miner, so I was
just keeping up the family tradition

Are you really brought up in biker?

No. I was born in Jesmond.

But you know how it is.

Humble beginnings put down to treating
faces like this.

Like being a man and a son. Why, I love
all that crap.

Well, I did have an auntie Bella in
biker. I really did have an auntie Bella

biker.

Hi. Thank you.

You all right? Hi, hi, hi.

Don't worry, pet.

Worst things happen in prison.

Try sharing a cell with a serial killer.

I think you should go home now.

I'm under orders to protect you.
Bollocks, man.

Someone just tried to run you down.

Some little boy passed his driver's
test, celebrating with his first half of

shandy. I'm safely gathered in, man.

You call into headquarters, tell them
I'm stunning you down. I'll take full

responsibility.

Besides, I think I'm on a promise.

Maybe two.

Okay. First thing in the morning.

Try second.

Come on now, girls.

It's so good in there.

keeping.

Hello, Lewis.

What?

Any identification?

Okay, yeah, I'm on my way.

Hello, Pat.

Yeah, listen.

Can I call you back?

around a body girl about your age,
apparently.

Yeah, I hate my job sometimes, but I
love you, and I'll definitely get back.

Okay. Bye -bye, love.

She said she dictated the invitation for
Turnbull to come and talk at the Union.

He gets death threats.

She ends up dead.

What's that revolver doing there?

I thought I would say this is seriously
weird.

Dr. Hobson. On our way.

Were all these other rooms occupied?

That'll be my next job, I suppose.

With special reference to room 123.

I'll stop me house ahead.

Oh, hi.

Hi.

You're Nicky's old friend from Tyneside.

And you're Caroline Morton. And you're
the union president.

What's happening?

I'm here in my official capacity.

Sorry, don't understand.

Capacity, are you here?

I spent the night with Nicky.

What in that?

Yeah.

Look, I've got a ten o 'clock tutorial.

We may need to speak to you again later.

Where do you normally live?

I'm at Penville.

Good.

Excuse me. Morning.

Morning. Where is it?

Where's what?

So these are all the people that were
booked in last night? Yes. The names

highlighted and read have already
checked out.

And this one in blue?

Room 123.

It was booked, but the guy didn't show
up.

Says here his name's Lewis.

Yes. The copper, apparently.

Stephen? Miss Caroline.

Call me.

Strangled. With?

Can't be certain, but it could be bare
hands.

Time of death?

Best guess, between two or three in the
morning.

Any joy?

Not sure joy is the word.

Explain.

Rumour's booked in your name.

But I'm playing games.

My money's on the central committee.

Start with the brother, Stephen
Gilchrist.

Who made him identify the body?

At the very least.

I'm going to call on Turnbull while the
sheets are still warm.

Carny room, yes?

Very pleasant.

My favourite word in the language.

Upgrade.

Cup of instant with added non -dairy
whitener.

I'll give it a miss.

Uh -huh.

You're very early.

Early? Aye, well, I know you're me
officially designated bodyguard.

Well, the next gig's not till 11 o
'clock.

Who's signing?

I'm not hearing me bodyguard capacity.

Are you not?

Is it something I said?

What time did he come to bed?

About two o 'clock.

Any witnesses?

Aye.

Caroline Morton, president of the Oxford
Union.

Was she with you all night?

Unless she sneaked out while I was
asleep.

Oh, you did sleep?

Quite a lot of the time, actually.

Stamina's not what it was.

Did Caroline sleep?

You'd have to ask her.

Could you have sneaked out while she was
asleep?

Hang on a minute.

This is alibi talk. I'd know it anyway.

What's it all about?

It's about a dead body in the next room,
Mr. Timber.

The young woman whose body was found
upstairs was a non -resident.

I realise that.

What's the hotel's policy?

I'm not sure what you mean.

Well, on residents taking non -residents
upstairs for a, if you'll forgive the

expression, quick screw.

It's a bit of a grey area.

Describe the colour grey to me in this
context.

Well...

Last night, for example, 20 or 30
students pile into the bar with that

guy. He's resident, and he's buying
champagne all around because he's

celebrating some million -dollar film
deal.

Now, I can't guarantee if some non
-resident doesn't slip through the net.

Okay, so if I, as a non -resident,
wanted to get into room 123, what would

need? You'd need a passkey.

Which always lives in your pocket.

There are a couple in the drawer behind
the desk.

Anyone who'd worked here would know
where to look.

And a lot of students have worked here.

Stephen Gilchrist?

Caroline Morton?

David Harvey?

Any of them worked here?

They don't have to.

They've got rich daddies.

Is it true?

Is it true?

We're going to need your help.

Would you go with Sergeant Hathaway?

You want me to identify them? I could
come with you.

No, you stay here, but you'll be around
for later, yeah? Sure.

Mike?

He's good, isn't he?

I know.

Scary in one, so you'll call me when
you've got any answers.

Of course.

Is there really nothing I can do?

Just stay in Oxford. Of course. It's
where I live.

The team are asking the obvious
questions.

What time did they go to bed last night?
Did they see anything, hear anything,

murder anyone?

And who booked the room in your name?

Yeah, that too.

Also, what does anybody know about this
gun?

It wasn't loaded, and as far as we can
see, it hasn't been fired, so it's just

the latest design accessory.

Also, we need to know the names of all
the students that were in the bar last

night drinking Nicky Turnbull champagne.

I'll be back on the case as soon as I've
finished babysitting.

Yes, that's Jane.

She didn't deserve this.

Maybe she does.

I think my bike's at the hotel.

Let's go and get it.

So you'd never met Jo Gilchrist before
yesterday?

No. You were with me at the time.

But it was her idea that you should come
down.

So she said, like,

I mean, probably committees and
democracy and stuff would... All I know

wrote to me, agent, and said, would I
like to speak at the Oxford?

Well, it looks good on the CV.

So we said, throw in a book signing and
you're in business.

So your agent fixed everything?

Aye, she winds me up and sets me going.

She booked me a hotel, though.

Well, it seemed right, you know.

Round -the -clock protection.

She thought you might need somewhere to
rest your weary head.

Round -the -clock protection means
staying awake.

And circumstances change.

Yeah, like beautiful young union
presidents.

That way, man. It's only rock and roll.

All right.

Hi.

Who's it for?

It's not for me. It's for my son.

Does he have an ear? He's called Darren.

Darren. He's in computers.

Well, it's better than being in prison.
And I've tried both.

If it wasn't for him, Joe would still be
alive.

You'll have to explain that.

I'm sorry, I can't.

Here you go.

Give us a moment.

Don't go away now.

Done this sort of stuff before?

Aye, many, many times.

How much longer have we got to go?

I'd like to see 20 minutes or fancy a
pint or something to eat.

Bodyguards don't eat.

But I would like to keep an eye on the
day job.

I'll just be outside.

Watch out for students bearing bicycles.

Now then, Bonnie lass, what can I do for
you?

Anything making sense yet?

The CCTV footage shows us that there
were lots of students in the hotel last

night, some of them drunk.

Oh, and I've clarified the link between
Turnbull and the fine city of Oxford.

Go on, make my day.

Two of the colleges, Trevelyan and St
Jude's, Turnbull hacked into their

investment portfolios and relieved them
of a lot of money.

What's this got to do with Joe
Gilchrist?

Absolutely nothing.

Sort of nicked a few quid off a couple
of colleges.

Became an Oxford University stakeholder.

Oh, yeah, man, they should take better
care of their money.

Everybody got hurt.

I mean, look around you. Are the walls
tumbling down?

Robin Hood strikes again, eh? Exactly.

Oh, come on, these pretty young women,
20 -year -olds, wanting to leap into bed

with you. What, with a middle -aged fart
like me?

You wouldn't say that to Mick Jagger.

Well, you're not Mick Jagger.

True.

I'm strictly Beavis.

Not a word to the missus' mind, but be
surprised how many women fall for the

lovable rogue routine.

And there's no lack of enthusiasm on her
part.

On the other hand... What?

Might have been honey trap, stitch -up
raptors.

They were into all that stuff.

What's this all about?

Some professor, they were going to hang
out to dry, so they said.

Maybe he's hours next up for a public
hang -in. But you didn't mind?

To be honest, I was half expecting a
three -in -a -bed sex romp.

You'd have to be a real killjoy to
object to that.

Obviously, there'd be questions in the
house when I go home.

Trust me,

I love that cellar lot of books.

Well, I appreciate your honesty.

So, tell me the truth about these death
threats.

Before the honesty wears off.

Oh, it's... Well, the agent did have a
couple of anonymous emails.

But it was pathetic stuff, really.

You know, from the sort of sad back of
the probably used green ink. They have

name tags in their underpants.

But we thought the hell with it.
Paperbacks just don't make it official.

Get a bit of publicity.

Nicky defies death threats.

Now, you read that in the paper.

We have eyes everywhere.

Trouble is...

Bullshit works.

It sells tickets for the circus, man.

But yes, it's a guilty plea.

Publicity stunt.

Wasting police time.

I throw myself at the mercy of the
court.

Well, it went straight into the heart.

Death would have been pretty instant.

Highly professional.

Yeah.

Shot came from up there.

Well, either from the hotel roof or the
council building next door.

Right, you know a lot of book
depository.

What? Well, we'll check everything.

Yeah, well, don't forget the stuff in
his hotel room.

I'm going to need to go snooping in his
laptop.

Check for green ink.

Green ink?

It's a babysitter.

Looks like I've failed.

I think I'm fair, I told you so. I need
to know you're all right.

Thank you, I'm fine.

Tell me what happened.

Well, that's the strange thing about it.
He just owned up to the fact that the

whole death threat thing was a scam,
publicity attempt, and bang.

Then it all went quiet, and I
realised... I realised that I was safe,

the one that were up.

Taking various items from Mr Turnbull's
room, there's the list.

Is that allowed?

Civil liberties and so on?

I'm not sure civil liberties are
uppermost in the late Mr Turnbull's mind

moment.

The story so far, Joe Gilchrist, age 21,
third year student.

Found dead early this morning at the
hotel.

Apparently strangled, although...

There's bruising indicating she might
have been bumped on the head first.

She's drunk a little champagne, maybe a
couple of glasses, but no trace of

drugs, no sign of recent sexual
activity.

Nicky Turnbull, reformed criminal, best
-selling author.

Shot and killed at 2 .10 this afternoon.

Outside the hotel, a single bullet
wound.

More details once ballistics have done
their homework.

Where are we on identification of his
body?

His agent's coming up from London this
afternoon.

So, his wife?

No, I thought it was his agent.

Well, they're one and the same person.
It's all on the laptop.

Is there anything else on the laptop?

Not yet. He's quite eccentric with his
access codes, but we'll get there.

All right, moving on.

Possible link between the two victims.

Joe Gilchrist, a key member of the
committee that invited Turnbull up to

to the union.

Hermel spent the night with Caroline
Morton, the union president.

But he actually told me that he thought
it might be a honey trap, with a view to

selling the story to the tabloids.

Jo Gilchrist was very much into exposing
people in print.

She apparently also had a sight set on
an Oxford Don. Now, we need to identify

him, find out what he was up to, if
anything, and whether it relates to the

killing. Joe Gilchrist also has a
brother, Stephen, who's currently

streets of Oxford throwing bicycles
through shop windows.

He isn't.

No? He's downstairs.

He's come here to confess.

Confess to what?

He didn't say.

There'll be a press conference at five,
probably a bromide statement.

We're keenly pursuing several lines of
inquiry, etc.

Appeal to the public. The usual bag of
tricks.

Including the grieving widow, if she's
here in time.

Well, I actually hate all that stuff,
but I'll be guided by the grieving

We're told you want to confess.

Yeah.

Confess. What?

Well,

you know, you were there. They put you
for business with the bicycle.

Is that all?

What else is there?

I ran away, but that's because I
panicked and I didn't know what else to

couldn't think straight. All right, all
right.

Relax. Deep breath.

Tell him about the bicycle.

You can be charged with criminal damage
in the fullness of time, but we know

this is your first offence. We're not
overly worried about the shop window.

I see.

Sam. Sam?

I'm told your sister was about to,
quote, hang him out to dry.

He's an eminent professor of English
literature. His name's Weller, hence the

Sam. Sam Weller, Pickwick Papers.

I know.

I did it for O -Level.

Which I've failed to save you checking.

So was your sister planning to do the
same sort of thing with Turnbull? A

trap and then public exposure?

It could have been that.

So why don't you blame Turnbull for
Joe's death?

I just know if he hadn't come to Oxford,
she'd still be alive.

I'm sure that Joe and Caroline were
planning something, but I don't know

They didn't tell me their secrets.

You're her brother.

The thing is, there's really two kinds
of student here at Oxford. There's the

dedicated scholars and the chances.

And you are? I'm a scholar.

I'd be happy to spend my life writing
books that only 37 people in the world

want to read.

And Jo?

Was ambitious.

You know what Shelley said?

Remind me?

The poets are the unacknowledged
legislators of the world.

Jo said that Shelley was wrong. These
days it's the newspaper editors.

So she wanted to rule the world?

Yeah, I suppose.

And what about her close friends?

She didn't have any.

You? Caroline Morton, David Harvey.

People like Joe hang out with whoever
they think can be useful to them.

They get together when their agendas
overlap.

But don't confuse it with friendship.
They're all too competitive to have

friends.

Halfway.

Two minutes.

You go.

Tell me about the gun.

The gun?

He said it was found with a revolver.

It was a birthday present.

From? David Harvey.

The rugby player?

It wasn't his idea. She said she'd like
a gun for her birthday.

Where did he get it from?

No idea.

Maybe from one of his rugby mates.

Some of them have military pendants.

Why did she want it? Was she frightened
something might happen to her?

She was never frightened of anything.

The gun was just something to show off
with. It was a design accessory.

She only wanted one because nobody else
had a gun.

She was my sister, and because she was
my sister, I loved her.

But I didn't really like her very much.

It's a short walk.

My driver okay here?

Yeah, he'll be fine.

You can't blame me, can you?

I've fallen in love with him.

Thank you.

Tell me about this press conference,
then.

It'll be a short statement by D .I.
Lewis, the officer in charge of the

investigation, followed by...

some questions, and probably very few
answers.

Because you don't know any?

Because it's very early on in the
investigation.

Right, well, I might be a clever.

Well, I never... What?

A long time ago, Sergeant, when the
world was very, very young, Mrs.

and I went to school together.

Aye, not only that.

He was my first boyfriend.

We're dealing with two murders within a
12 -hour period.

It goes without saying that the police
would like to hear from any member of

public who saw anything unusual or
suspicious in the area of the hotel,

last night or this morning.

I'll be taking some questions later, but
first, Mrs Turnbull wishes to make it

short. Thank you.

First, I'd like to add my support to
that appeal.

If you can help, please do so.

As I look around, I see one or two
familiar faces from the tabloid press.

And I have no doubt that over the days
ahead, we'll be reading many stories

about my late husband.

I could help you write them.

The tale of a reformed criminal who,
even when he was going straight, was

a bit of a rogue.

A bit of a lad.

Yes, he was.

He liked to drink, and he liked a pretty
face.

Though he may have been a bit of a lad.

But he was my bit of a lad.

Mr Turnbull, I wonder if this Turnbull
isn't taking questions.

I'll have a couple, but as long as
they're short.

Do the police think there's a connection
between the two murders?

Yeah, the officer in charge. Mr.
Turnbull was apparently killed by a

We know he had enemies in Whitehall and
the Pentagon.

Will you be looking for a link to the
security services?

We'll be looking for a link to somebody
that can shoot a rifle with great

accuracy.

You were with Turnbull at the time.

Is it possible you were the real target?

No more questions.

Thank you all.

Mr.

Lewis? Yeah.

We know that was mostly bullshit, but if
anything juicy comes along, I get first

whack, don't I, before the hooligans
from Wapping? Oh, definitely.

In fact, you could do me a favour, not.

What?

Apparently, Turnbull filched a lot of
money from a couple of ecologists,

Trevelyan and St. Jude's, during the
90s.

With any repercussions?

Not in public.

Conspiracy of silence.

What would have to be seen to be immune
from that sort of thing?

Leave it with me.

Bye, Tom. You're a star.

Sorry about that.

So, what are the plans now?

What a question.

I'm sorry.

It's all right.

I was... Planning to overnight here with
Nicky for a spot of R &R, you know.

Would it help if I stayed around?

Assist with inquiries, is that the
phrase?

Well, it would, if you feel you're up to
it.

Yeah.

Let's talk, Ed.

It's supposed to help, isn't it? The
talking cure.

That's what Sigmund Freud said.

I'm suddenly hungry.

But awful.

It's a normal symptom of shock.

We'll find somewhere quiet to feed you.
I'm at talk.

I'm just going to give us five minutes
to make a phone call.

Where is the wisdom we've lost in
information?

What?

Do you know Elliot?

Don't know the fella.

Listen, I want you to talk to Caroline
Morton and David Harvey.

In either order.

Ask them about honey traps and guns.

Was Jo going to shoot Turnbull? If so,
why?

What was she going to use for bullets?

We'll save Professor Weller for tomorrow
morning.

And you'll be?

Friends reunited.

Hello, I'd like to see Caroline Morton.

I'm sorry, but she said she's not
talking to any journalist.

Too nice to be a journalist.

Oh, sorry, sir.

She's in her room.

But I think she's with somebody.

Lucky her.

I'd like to see Caroline Morton.

I'm sure you would, but you damn well
can't.

I think I damn well can.

Just this once.

You've been raided by the police.

How thrilling.

I'll call you later.

I've been generous with their pieces of
silver.

You must know the golden rule of
whoring.

Give good value and insist on the going
rate.

When did you first meet him?

In prison, 8th.

Nine years ago.

What were you doing in prison?

I used to go in twice a week, would you
believe, to do drama therapy.

You'll have to explain.

The theory is it helps the guys with
their problems by acting them out.

I was a liberal -minded do -gooder.

Did you do any good?

Yeah.

Yes, I did, as a matter of fact.

I don't need to apologize.

I know what people like you think of do
-gooders.

What makes you think I'm a people like
me?

Okay, we'll assume you're an exception.

Either way, prison officers are worse.

Villains are villains, and no arty
-farty bollocks is going to change it.

I imagine.

Anyway, Nicky, he was in my drama group.

One of the things I had them do was tell
us stories, and he told very good

stories. I'm not sure they're all
strictly true, but... Well, anyway, I

encouraged him to write them down.

When he came out, we put them in a book
and the rest, you know.

Where did marriage fit in all this?

Chronologically, it went drama teacher,
editor,

lover, agent, wife.

Would you like to see the wine list?

I'm driving, I'll just have order.

Would it be terrible of me?

Why not?

It'd be our secret.

So what were you and Joe Gilchrist up to
last night?

Obviously you were going to stitch up
Nicky Turnbull, but what was the game

plan?

Three in a bed, sex romp.

Told that goes down well in the
tabloids.

We were going to sort of play it by ear.

But she never turned up.

Obviously.

Was she going to bring her gun with her?

Just as a theatrical prop.

She hadn't got any bullets.

We were going to play that by ear as
well.

Scare him shitless and see what
happened.

So what did you do?

Basically, we had sex and went to sleep.

And the next morning you wake up and
your friend's dead in the next room.

I didn't know that, did I?

And we weren't exactly friends.

Joe and I were... useful to each other.

Useful?

That's what Oxford is for.

Get to know the right people. It'll
stand you in good stead the rest of your

life. I like being union president. It's
the first step to being prime minister.

Place your bets now.

All that being so,

Joe Gilchrist had no friends.

I guess not.

Mummy and daddy love her.

Mum's an alcoholic and dad's living in
Dubai with the au pair.

Happy family, then.

There's a lot of them about.

Will there be anything else?

Yeah.

Tell me where I can find David Harvey.

Pumping iron.

Thank you.

Last night in the bar at the hotel, your
husband was buying champagne all right.

Nicky loved showing off.

Apparently he was celebrating some film
deal.

Yeah, we'd sold the film rights to the
Americans.

Yeah, that's good.

The money's amazing.

They'll screw up the story, of course.

Set it in Los Angeles, starring a pretty
20 -year -old who gets to go and find

God, but that's the business.

Tell me about the business.

You're an agent, so you take a
percentage of what your clients earn.

Yeah.

How many clients?

Hmm.

About half a dozen.

All different kinds of writers?

No, all much the same.

Oh. I thought that was the whole point
about artists, that they were all

different.

Like with music. Mozart sounds like
Mozart.

Beethoven sounds like Beethoven. Sorry,
Pep, this isn't about art. This is about

the marketplace.

Do you know the biggest growth area in
publishing?

Books on slimming?

No, true crime.

Your clients are all ex -cons.

Well, a couple are back inside, but...
Yeah.

Nicky was the first.

He attracted a lot of attention. We had
old lads queuing round the block with

the stories.

I was a drug baron, a gangland enforcer,
a safe breaker until I saw the light.

All different, but the same.

Murders? Hit men?

Inevitably.

You told me that he'd made some enemies
before he went into prison and then some

more while he was inside.

Then maybe even more once he'd gone
astray.

You met him.

You were the chancer.

But yes.

Prison would be a good place to start.

David Harvey?

Yes. Take this Sergeant Hathaway.

I know.

You do?

You used to be our head boy.

I was only in second year when you left,
but I remember your nickname.

Didn't know I had one.

You were called WC.

I am scared to ask.

It was short for Wolfgang Christ.

The theory was you couldn't decide
whether you wanted to be Mozart or

And now you're a policeman.

I compromised.

Tell me about the Turnbull lecture.

Not sure what I can tell you.

You were on the committee.

That's just words. It was basically
Joe's gang.

She called the shots, told us what to
do.

What was your job in Joe's gang?

I didn't really have one anymore.

Would you care to elaborate?

Joe and I used to be an item until she
dumped me. When did she dump you? When I

stopped being useful.

I would welcome a little more in the way
of an explanation.

Three months ago, I was a star.

Rugby international, big clubs waving
fat contracts under my nose, hanging out

with the rich and famous.

Then 20 stone of Australian landed on my
knee.

There's nobody more irrelevant than an
injured sportsman.

Why'd you get her the gun?

It's what she wanted. She always got
what she wanted.

Until now.

I guess.

Where'd you get it?

It was kicking about the house.

Got a lot of guns kicking about the
house.

It was a sort of family heirloom.
Probably my grandfather's. He was in the

I cleaned it up, polished it, wrapped it
in pink ribbon.

Those things kill people, you know.

It's all right. I didn't give her any
bullets.

She wouldn't have been safe with
bullets.

She was as hard as nails, but she would
never kill anybody.

Just hang them out to dry.

Do you mean Professor Weller?

I mean generally.

All right.

She made a lot of enemies, but she
didn't want to kill any of them, and

didn't want to kill her.

And yet she ended up dead.

I know.

It's stupid and unfair.

Got anyone else in your life at the
moment?

Are we talking women?

We're talking women.

The international cap still works its
magic.

Joe aside, it's any prize on the stall.

Thanks for tonight. It wasn't fun
exactly, but I... was sort of canny.

Is that allowed?

Sort of canny is allowed.

This is good stuff.

Another gift from a grateful hack.

To Jo.

May she rest in peace.

Not possible.

Let's hope she's got the going rate.

On a night of passion, we're doing
better, sir.

I imagine the grieving widow is not best
pleased.

Is she grieving?

I'd say she was in shock.

Tears will come later.

True, sir, the old boyfriend bit. Not
that it's any of my business.

When I was in the sixth form and she was
in the fifth,

I took her to a disco.

And then I took her to a football match.

Then I bought a couple of tickets to a
concert, but she didn't want to go

because she didn't like Barry Manilow.
End of story.

Do you like Barry Manilow?

Not much.

I thought she might.

It was a lousy match as well. Lost 2 -1
to Blackburn, wasn't it?

You're expecting her?

Yep.

So these are the spires where he does
his dreaming.

Not much else it can do with them,
really.

Professor Weller, we're told the thumb
in the headline refers to you. It does

indeed. It's a literary allusion.

Dickensian, yeah. We know about that,
too. Is it true?

What is truth?

Men have been debating that in this
place for hundreds of years.

Are you involved in an examination scam?

Scam?

Could you define the word?

A confidence trick? A cheat?

A swindle?

Is that precise enough for you?

Could you give me an example?

Imagine my daughter is at school and she
wants to come to your college.

I give the school a large sum of money.

The school gives your college a large
sum of money.

Now, these sums of money are given fancy
names like endowments.

I think they should be called bribes.

Either way, lo and behold, my daughter
gets her place at your college.

Well, that isn't my view of the
situation.

Give us your view of the situation.

My view of the world is dominated by
books.

Books are my life and my work.

But if I look out of the window, I see a
world dominated not by books, but by

information.

My students use words like blog and iPod
and Google Whack and cyberspace.

Well, I try to understand.

I even attended the late Mr Turnbull's
lecture, hoping to gain some sort of

insight. Yes, I saw you there.

Of course.

The immediate consequence is that
instead of recommending particular books

applicants might read, one tends to
direct them to websites.

Is that the word?

That's the word.

Where they might find enlightenment.

Or where my daughter, who wants to come
to your college, might find the right

answers to questions which you might ask
her.

If, for example, she was sitting your
special entrance exams or coming for an

interview.

Look, don't tell me, Professor, there
are no right answers.

Quite so.

This was Joe Gilchrist's college.

It was.

So one of your own students was running
a vicious campaign against you.

What were you proposing to do about
that?

I cannot tell a lie. I was considering
various options, but they did not

homicide.

And I shall make two more points before
you leave.

It was not my idea to run university
education according to the principles of

Middle Eastern marketplace.

And since my area of expertise begins
with the work of Aeschylus over 2 ,500

years ago, your concerns seem to me but
brief and impermanent ripples on a vast

ocean.

Oh, I'd like to nip that professor.

What's that?

I need to pump a sod.

Burn this place down.

I'm going to prison. I'll feel more at
home in prison.

You have locked in an Albert's prison.

One or two.

But we don't rattle the keys.

Upsets the inmates.

Mind you, this one's to stop the
teachers from escaping.

You know Nicky Turnbull?

Yeah, I knew him.

Any thoughts, observations?

One's for Pete.

Dr. Patterson might disagree.

Doctor? PhD in criminology.

She believes in rehabilitation.

Tell me about Diane, Thermal.

Not much to tell.

She came to work with a slender TV at a
time when we'd take anyone who could

read or write.

Slender? Failed actress.

Or should I say actor?

She buggered about in fringe theatre, a
couple of bit parts in the bill.

How did she get on here?

Surprisingly well.

Oh, being a woman, hell.

Someone for the guy he used to lust
after.

And she did a halfway decent production
of Julius Caesar.

I've got a present for you.

A souvenir programme.

Turnbull played Caesar?

Yes. Any good?

I've never met a Roman who spoke with a
Geordie accent.

But then again, I've never met one who
sounded like John Gielgud either.

Diane played his wife.

Calpurnia, Caesar's wife, who must be
above suspicion.

She wasn't Mrs Turnbull then, of course.

Oh, no, Diane Fraser.

I went to school with her.

Oh, in which case, she too must be above
suspicion.

Well, I don't see her as a serial killer
with a high -velocity rifle.

Yes, that's more of a male speciality.

Turnbull told me that he might have made
some enemies while he was here.

Obviously, the man was a thief.

Your officer said that. What did he say?

Have you read his books?

No, I delegated that job to my sergeant.

He's done a speed reading course.

Well, the bones of it are true about the
computer fraud and so on, but he

dressed it up with a lot of stuff of
what he heard from the other inmates.

He may have changed their names, but it
was obvious what he was up to.

He told their stories?

These days it's called intellectual
property.

But is it enough for anyone to want to
murder him? Come on, Mr Lewis, you've

been around these people as long as I
have.

Men have been killed for a packet of
cigarettes.

or a bar of chocolate.

And it's not stealing a story.

It's stealing someone's dignity.

Something else you should know.

It's a technical term.

When Turnbull first arrived here, he was
functionally illiterate.

Oh, he couldn't read or write.

He could fool the system, and he was
obviously brilliant with numbers.

I knew he had a problem with spelling.
It should have been spotted at school,

but it wasn't.

The man was a great talker, but...

Mrs. Campbell wrote the book.

Us.

Oh, that was the theory that I might
have been the target.

Well, that might easily be the case.

These are career criminals.

One copper less is a step nearer to
heaven.

Find how you go.

Medical and ballistics think that's
where our killer shot Mr Turnbull from.

Find anything useful?

No.

Let me get up there.

Lift to the fourth floor, fire escape
out onto the roof.

So we went straight past the main
reception?

No, we went past Chloe, who's a PPE
student working her way through college.

CCTV?

Inconclusive.

Can you imagine David Harvey doing this?

Harvey? I guess.

Brush off from Joe Gilchrist.

He's going off doing unspeakable things
with the ex -con. He's been drinking. He

follows her.

He's a big lad. Knees hurting.

Loses his temper.

Why would he kill Turnbull?

Classic situation.

The old favourite.

Turnbull sees him do it. Harvey has to
kill the witness.

I'm by it, sir.

Why not?

Well, amongst other things, he went to
my old school.

They assume we're talking a posh public
school for boys.

Yeah. And you go from there to places
like Oxford, end up running the country.

With all due respect, sir, this is
beginning to sound like a chip on your

shoulder.

My school motto is a healthy body, a
healthy mind.

We were given the choice.

Let's go and talk to Mrs.

Turnbull about Julius Caesar.

Where are all those actors now? Did he
steal that story?

Well, Peter was killed by a group of
conspirators. Got to check.

Brutus, Cassius, Casca... No, not
ancient Rome.

They're easily confused.

Jim Winston.

Sad story.

Schizophrenic. He threw himself under a
train last month.

Charlie Reader. He was a dead manager.

Strong as a horse.

Bit of a nutter.

I remember him.

Local man.

More than I'd put him away.

GBH with knobs on. He might be worth
checking.

He's the only one who really scared me.

Don't have to expect it, Charlie.

Stuart Malcolm.

He's probably in London.

Keep your distance.

He's beyond redemption.

Even Shakespeare couldn't help.

Ray Hanson.

He's my success story.

He runs a little car hire company.

You brought me here yesterday, actually.

Oh, in the flash limo with Tinted
Witness?

Yeah. Where's he based?

About halfway between here and London.

I've got his card somewhere.

Here.

I think those are the only ones I know
about.

Or slaving over a hot computer.

Looking for wisdom.

Well, thank you for that.

Liz. Something else, actually.

It's sort of personal.

See you back at the station.

I hate to be a nuisance, but my taxi
still seems to be conspicuous by its non

-appearance. I'm sorry, Mr. Webster.

I'll call them again. Would you?

You're American?

Yes.

I blame my parents. Who else?

A detective?

Investigating a double murder?

And here I am, an American leaving town.

Successful visit?

Lecturing the British on the James
brothers.

William and Henry as opposed to Frank
and Jesse.

Judging from the size of my audience, I
probably made the wrong choice.

My latest thin volume.

I read in one of your newspapers Mr.
Turnbull might have been targeted by the

Pentagon.

I give you my word, detective.

I despise my elected government.

I can't even spell CIA.

We knew about your lectures.

We had you checked out.

I hope you find that reassuring.

What's the problem?

This place.

Wish I could afford to see.

The stuff has been lovely and so on.
It's just that I'm sleep... Well... I'm

sleeping along the corridor from where
the girl was murdered and I look out the

window and I can see Nicky's
bloodstains.

Could go home.

Yeah.

I know.

But the house is going to seem very
empty without Nicky in.

When I do go out, I want to take all of
his things with me and the police have

still got them.

The wheels of forensic examination grind
exceedingly slow.

with bits and pieces, you know, for
company.

It's probably hard for you to
understand.

It's very easy for me to understand.

Sorry? My wife died three years ago.

I'm sorry.

Are you allowed to stop for a moment?

Five minutes.

Party of rehab.

Five miles per day, plus five hours in
the gym, plus the occasional game of

tennis as my designated fun.

I thought rugby was only a game. Games
aren't games anymore.

You were with Joe and Caroline at the
hotel after that lecture.

What time did you leave?

I was so drunk I couldn't put a time to
it.

What about yesterday afternoon, say
around two o 'clock?

What were you doing? This.

Here? More or less. I can't be accurate
to the exact yard.

Any witness?

Yes. Her.

Good afternoon, Mr Lewis.

What's he been telling you?

What should he have been telling me?

That Joe chose to live dangerously and
lost.

Who won?

We won't know until the game's over and
somebody sings.

You're suggesting Mrs. Campbell should
stay at your house tonight?

Why?

She's in a state of shock.

She hates that hotel.

There's been one murder on the premises,
and a husband was killed on the

doorstep. She doesn't want to go home
alone.

And you two were at school together.

Therefore, you trust me.

You might be a key witness, or even at
this stage, a possible suspect.

I don't see her as an assassin.

I'm thinking like a lawyer in court
looking to discredit the police.

And I'm thinking like an old friend who
always behaves strictly by the book.

All right, but with backup.

Come in.

Yeah, what is it? I think I might have
stumbled across some wisdom.

You'd better share it with us.

Charlie Reed works as a bouncer at the
Lower Depths.

What in God's name is the Lower Depths?

It's a basement club, loud music and
booze.

Uh, turn and guide me there.

The lads from the estate get together
with the athletes from the university

there every weekend for a punch -up.
Charlie will be in his element.

Charlie? Mr Lewis.

How you doing?

Too many murders.

Oh, he's fine.

I'm sorry to hear about Morse.

He was a bastard, but... Straight
bastard.

Know what I mean?

Is that my landlord?

Your landlord?

I think I killed his dog.

Did you?

This young man's trying to get me into
trouble.

I'll speak to him later.

So, uh... Must be about the Nazi
professor, then.

How are you getting warmer?

Come back in the morning, Mr Lewis.

Got a martial arts team from Liverpool
in tonight.

Don't think I'm needed.

Should we call the police?

These people are pretty good at sorting
out their own problems.

Besides, I'm running late. You don't
love her anymore.

Sorry, sir. That sort of slipped out. I
don't know.

It isn't over yet.

What happened, Blake?

Well, you go to bed for a good night's
sleep, and I'll be in here with her.

Not bad.

Dr. Patterson at the prison told me that
you helped him, right?

She said, Nick, he was, quote,
functionally illiterate.

That's the jargon.

Just means he couldn't spell.

But he told a good story.

That's what people buy, good stories.

I could talk to him at a long work.

I'll be off.

Thank you for looking after me.

Just doing my job, Mum.

No Barry Manilow, then?

I never liked him much.

When I was 18, I thought you would.

We never know anything, do we?

Did you have a good marriage?

It's just I couldn't help noticing the
photographs.

Yeah, very good.

The best.

I'm glad about that.

So did I. I mean, people wouldn't
believe me, but... I did.

I was living dangerously, but... Yeah,
very

good indeed.

Oh, well, see, that's the difference.

I believe in living safely.

Don't say that's why I'm a cop.

I want to look after the people that
believe in living safely.

Do police regulations permit you to give
me a goodnight hug?

I'd have to sign for it.

You're a good man.

What did I say?

Don't worry, I'm not an attacker.

I detected that. Come in.

We traced all the calls on Turnbull's
mobile.

Turns out one of them was to a London
-based lawyer who refused to tell us

the call was about.

Client confidentiality.

That old thing?

Yeah. But I got a mate who's a
barrister, someone I went... Went to

Yeah. And?

And, according to him, the man Turnbull
was talking to was a divorce lawyer.

to the lady it was a very good marriage.

Obviously someone didn't think so.

Norman, you're a miserable sod.

You've got a good memory for suicide.

Exactly. Horses for courses.

expecting to see Robbie.

Has he gone?

The master of the house? Yeah.

Oh.

I was all geared up to make him some
breakfast.

Do you like some?

No, thanks. I'm sorted.

But you're to make yourself at home, and
when you're ready, I am to drive you to

the office. He'd like to ask you a
couple of questions if you feel up to

Yeah?

Do you mind if I tidy up first?

Doubt it.

It's a nutty professor.

Comes up to me and says, forgive me,
this isn't my natural habitat, but I'm

informed you are a renowned practitioner
of enforcing.

His exact words, I'll never forget them.

So I tell him, it's my chosen specialist
subject.

And he says, some student's making
trouble, needs a bit of a slap.

And did he give this student a bit of a
slap?

He didn't say it was a woman, did he?

I'll smack anyone if the money's right.

Never a woman.

Even Mr Moore's given me credit for
that.

Check your records.

What about Turnbull? Have you got an
alibi?

Soon get one.

Serious answer, Charlie.

Yeah, all right.

Here's your serious answer.

You're looking for a professional
hitman.

That firing rifle was on the rooftops.

Ain't my style. You know that.

Can't stand heights are one thing.

Can't stand guns.

And I don't kill people.

I hurt people.

Don't kill them.

Are there any professional hitmen in the
nick?

There's usually one or two.

I think the lad played Brutus.

Used to be in that line of business.

Turnbull's book last night, slowly,
writes about a hitman

called Roy.

Alias Ray Hansen.

He was Brutus in the play.

Her success story, the one with the
executive limo and the tinted windows.

The Roman, formerly known as Roy
Hardwick, ex -British Army and S .A .S.

served in Northern Ireland, suspected of
selling guns to anyone who would meet

his price.

Now, he disappears, and three years
later, Ray Hanson turns up in the city

London selling non -existent chairs.

Do you want me to have a word with him?

I want you to get him up here for 11.
It's with discretion.

It's the better part of my valour, sir.

Oh, where did you leave Mrs Turnbull?
With a Guardian crossword and a cup of

coffee. Oh, and she tidied up your
kitchen.

before we left.

Back in the wrong place.

Yes, I took them to Oxford, Nicky and
Diane both.

You picked them up from home?

Nicky from their big house in
Wandsworth. Diane was already here when

call about the shooting.

That's her car there.

What was she doing here?

I'm writing a book.

And everybody?

Where were you at the time of the
murder?

It all depends on when they were
exactly. I only know what the newspapers

me. The student, Joe Kilchrist, was
killed at around two in the morning.

When I was fast asleep in my bed, all
alone, unless you'll accept Arthur C.

Clarke as a witness.

Nicky Turnbull was shot at ten past two
in the afternoon.

When I was out somewhere on the road,
let me check.

Do you have one of these?

I'm a bit of a nerd, but I find that
accurate information helps convince the

revenue that I really am fully
rehabilitated.

Now, you should know all that I know.

Thank you.

Can you get on my neck, you turnbull?

He's a good mate.

Well, I was a good mate, rest his soul.
He was like a sort of best friend at

school. Enemies?

When Diane walked into the nick,

You can imagine.

And she picked Nicky Turnbull. When we
got to the scene in the play where

everyone kills Julius Caesar, it was
just as well we only had wooden daggers.

Well, you played Brutus. Et tu, Brutus?
Yes, I know, the best friend who turns

on him in the end.

So it's only a play, Sergeant. Trust me,
I am an honourable man.

Just ask the inland revenue.

I wonder whether you could spare an hour
of your time.

There's one or two things we'd like you
to look at down at the station.

It's always a pleasure to be of service
to the state. In fact, I have to pick up

Diane anyway, so I'll follow you in the
limo, if that's okay.

Where is he?

Interview room with a cup of coffee.

Here is work record.

Here's an alibi I prepared earlier.

Quite so.

Why would he want to kill Turnbull?

Well, if he's a professional hitman,
because somebody paid him to.

Who, for example?

Mrs Turnbull, for example.

What?

Well, I know you went to the same
school, sir, but there's... I've got

to do with it.

They sold the film rights for, what, a
million quid?

As his agent, she gets, what, ten
percent?

As his divorce wife, she might get half,
but as his widow, she gets the lot.

Excuse me.

Have you any idea what's going on?

Very rarely.

Are you a policewoman, a police person?
I don't know what they're called.

No, I'm just an itinerant doctor
delivering a file.

All right.

You're Mrs. Turnbull, aren't you?

Yeah.

Tough time you're having?

Aye, you could say.

Turnbull quacking.

Are you and Roy Hardwick one and the
same person?

Might help.

Let's assume, for the sake of argument,
that you're right. One of the things you

learn in the SAS is how to withstand
interrogation, including torture, by

nastier people than you, Mr Lewis.

If I've got this right, you think I'm
involved in the murder of a student and

criminal turned best -selling author.
Now, I've provided you with two perfect

alibis.

Over to you.

I've nothing more to say.

We installed it as a disincentive to the
parish vandals.

Some of them seem to have a deep dislike
of our stained glass.

Is it important?

Maybe the answer to our prayers, which
proves they do work.

Let's see if I can remember where I left
that instruction book.

Sorry to have kept you hanging around.

It's all right.

I had a nice talk with Dr. Hodgson.

I think she'll answer you.

Why was she your late husband?

Making telephone calls to divorce
lawyers.

Because we were getting a divorce.

You told me last night you had a very
good marriage.

And so we did, for a while.

But there are time limit on rock and
roll marriages.

You can go off living dangerously.

How would you describe your relationship
with Ray Hansen?

Professional.

Did you spend the night there?

Yes.

And I spent last night at your place,
too, but... we're only good friends.

He is writing a book, for God's sake.

Well, confession's of a hitman.

And you're helping him with the long
words?

There's no need. He's very good with
long words.

He did an open university degree in
English when he was inside.

Rehabilitation, wherever you look.

I have a confession to make.

I don't need a confession from you.

I play music.

Doesn't sound like a criminal offence.
Some people think so.

Strictly speaking, it's world music with
a combination of jazz and medieval

madrigals. Does it have tunes?

I'll give it to you. You can decide for
yourself.

Anyway, on Thursday night, we were
rehearsing at All Saints, and when I

out, this car goes past a bit too fast.

I went to check if there had been CCTV
this morning, and look.

Well, that's the car who tried to run us
down after the lecture. When Hanson

claimed he was safely tucked up in bed.

It was just a wheeze Ray and Nicky
dreamed up to add credibility to the

threat scam.

Trust me, Ray was aiming to miss. He's
very good.

He's had experience with a getaway
driver.

We checked with the bank. Last week, you
paid Hanson £5 ,000.

That was a publisher's advance, and it
wasn't exactly £5 ,000.

It was minus my commission and plus VAT.

All right, let's go right back to the
beginning.

Jo Gilchrist approached you to get
Nicky... No, she didn't.

She didn't?

No, Jo Gilchrist had nothing to do with
it. It was, um,

that rugby player guy. He made the
initial phone call. He confirmed

by email, confirmed the email by
letters. The guy bored us into

But we were told that Joe was the one
that called the shots.

You might chew the words more carefully.

Yeah, Norman, did you find something for
me?

We're looking for David Harvey.

He's playing tennis with his girlfriend.

Where? I don't... Girlfriend?

What's that they play at Wimbledon?
Digital?

I'm in the middle of a game.

I'm sorry.

Game, you might say, is up.

Oh, bugger.

I suppose you've got the building
surrounded.

And the airport's sealed off.

We know you've got an iffy leg, but even
so.

I can jog, but I can't run.

I've got nothing to hide.

You're invited too, Chloe.

It's often said computer crime leaves no
victims.

I wish it were true.

I never thought I'd feel remorse for an
accountant, but I'm still sorry about

the man in one of our older universities
who committed suicide as a result of my

activities.

End quote.

I checked with an old mate of mine who
works for the Oxford Mail.

The man who took his own life was
financial advisor to Trevelyan College

Jude's.

They lost millions.

He lost his career and killed himself.

And he was your father?

Yes. It was a spineless thing to do and
he left the family in a mess.

Oh, a bit of a wimp, eh?

Not a proper rugby -playing man like his
son.

Now, you made a stern of stuff.

You invited Turnbull to Oxford.

What was the plan?

Get him up here, teach him a lesson?

I mean, it was only a Geordie upstart.

Didn't even go to a posh school.

Don't look now, but your inverted
thnobbery is showing, Mr Lewis.

Yeah, it's an old weakness of mine.

I thought it might be amusing to give
Turnbull a fright.

That's all.

So how come two people are dead?

You're the eighth detective.

What's that old saying about rugby
union?

Gentlemen acting like hooligans?

It's a man's game.

You're a hooligan through and through,
aren't you?

Hooligan to the last life.

I was talking to a hooligan this
morning. A real -life hooligan.

Not a gilded amateur.

It's his career.

His calling, you might say.

He was asked to teach Joe Gilchrist a
lesson. Offered money for it.

But he refused.

Do you know why?

He said he couldn't do that to a woman.

A hooligan.

And a man of principle.

You wouldn't know a principle if he
smacked you on the nose.

We phoned your old school this morning.

Talked to your housemaster.

You've got a bit of form, haven't you?

Suspended twice for hitting younger
boys.

Did you shock me?

Don't be ridiculous.

And suspended again last rugby season
for breaking an opponent's jaw.

I was getting him first with the
revenge.

Standard procedure.

Hitting a woman?

That's not standard procedure.

Not in a civilised society.

Not when you've just given her a lovely
birthday present.

One word, Mr Lewis.

Evidence.

Evidence.

Found? In a jacket in Mr Harvey's room.
Your room. The one you were wearing the

night of the lecture.

What was the deal?

Jo would bring the revolver, you'd bring
the bullets.

Only she chickened out. Is that it?

That's the problem with women.

You can't rely on them, can you?

Not like proper, well -educated,
hooligan chaps.

She thought it was a great idea at
first. A murder plot.

Wow, she said. How cool is that?

Then she met Turnbull and he charmed the
hell out of her.

We can't kill him, she said. He's kind
of cute.

That was the moment when she said those
words, kind of cute.

I don't do business with kind of cute.

And Chloe, does she have a different
attitude to cuteness?

Maybe she thinks you're kind of cute.
Maybe she does.

Cute enough to give you access to the
hotel roof.

Cute enough to look after your rifle for
you.

I see no rifle.

We found one in her locker at the hotel.

She's told us the whole story.

Women don't think how much luck wear
you're concerned, do they?

Any prize on the store?

Now, do you believe me?

I may not be above suspicion, but I'm
not Lady Macbeth. I believe you.

I'm writing if I had, like Barry
Manilow.

No, I can't imagine that.

Right madam.

You ever go back to your school?

No. Probably a great disappointment to
them. You? Yours?

Nah, never.

The job of a school is to teach you how
to manage without it.

A bit like being a parent.

Use one of these.

What is it?

Stick it in your ear and your ear.

What? It's that music that I do.

Oh, thanks.

Yeah.

Oh, hi, Pat.

Yeah, sorry I haven't found you back.

Ah, you've been watching your old dad on
the telly, yeah? Wow.

Well, would you believe I went to school
with her?

What?

Ah, well, she might call you into a
group.

Apparently it's world music with an
element of jazz, rock, medieval

Ah, fine.

Someone's tidied up the kitchen and now
I can't find my sugar bowl.