Original subtitles

Why do you think it's a bomb?

I didn't say it was a bomb, MacDuff.

I said it was a suspicious package.

Well, we should call the bomb squad.

That's what they do. They diffuse bombs.

If we think it's a bomb, we should call the bomb squad.

I think it may have been the local bomb squad

who sent it to me.

Accidentally kill a man's wife,

and there's a 30% chance he'll be forever grateful.

Accidentally combust a man's sniffer dog,

and he'll never forgive you.

You'd like me to get that, would you?

Hello?

It's Mr. Edwards.

He says he thinks someone's trying to kill him.

Tell Mr. Edwards we will be with him shortly.

He says you said we would be with him shortly

over 24 hours ago.

Tell him this time I mean it.

Mr. Edwards. Yes. No.

I... Mm-hmm.

Yes. No.

It's just we think someone might be trying to kill us as well.

We will be with you as soon as we can.

Okay?

Bye-bye.

What is it?

Why is someone sending you a Valentine's card in April?

The question is,

who is sending me a Valentine's Day card in April,

and what are the series of interconnected events

that have led this woman

to fall completely and hopelessly in love with me?

Let's go.

Hello?

Mr. Edwards?

Mr. Edwards?

What if someone really was trying to kill him?

Mr. Edwards!

He seemed pretty convinced.

Impossible.

How can you be so sure?

Because the circumstances of my first meeting Mr. Edwards

lead me to believe that he is a paranoid conspiracy theorist.

- Are you following me? - Yes.

I explained to Mr. Edwards

that I was using a technique known as Zen Navigation.

There is a school of thought

that says when you are hopelessly lost,

you should consult a map,

but my own strategy is to find someone who looks like

they know where they're going and follow them.

I rarely end up where I was intending to go,

but I often end up somewhere that I needed to be.

Wow. That's bollocks.

It clearly works, MacDuff.

The perilous state of our company's finances

suggested that we were in dire need of a client,

while it transpires Mr. Edwards

was in dire need of a private detective.

Mr. Edwards hired us

because he believes the Pentagon have him under surveillance.

Why would the Pentagon have him under surveillance?

They are the default setting of all conspiracy theorists.

It is a case of the grown man who cried "Pentagon."

It seems Mr. Edwards' paranoia has now escalated

into the deluded belief that somebody is trying to kill him,

when, in fact, he has less chance of being murdered

than you or I.

Oh, Jesus.

Oh, I feel sick.

Something's wrong.

Of course something's wrong, Dirk.

He's dead.

Someone really was trying to kill him.

What if he really was under surveillance?

What if the Pentagon murdered him?

Tortured him and then murdered him?

In my experience, the people who believe

they're going to be murdered by the Pentagon,

are invariably not the people

who get murdered by the Pentagon.

He really was a conspiracy theorist.

I'm a bit freaked out.

Are you freaking out?

Robbing a dead man.

That is cheap, even for you.

If the police find my business card in his wallet,

they will no doubt hold me for questioning.

Solving this case while languishing in a police cell

is beyond even my investigative abilities.

Of course, there is the small matter of some unpaid expenses.

When the police are finished

with their fingerprint powder, forensics, and general bungling,

our investigation into the interconnected web of events

surrounding Mr. Edwards' murder can begin in earnest.

Until then, we must flee the scene.

Very quickly.

Wait.

He might be useful to us.

If he's not, then we'll kill him.

MacDuff.

MacDuff!

After three days, it seems the police are finally finished

with their fingerprint powder, forensics, and general bungling.

We are back on the case.

In case you'd forgotten, Dirk, our client is dead.

The agency is broke.

We are trying to run a business, at least I am.

Who's paying us to investigate this case?

The substantial reward offered

for the apprehension of the killer

will offer more than adequate compensation for our time.

It's not just about a reward, though, is it?

You can't bear to be wrong.

Princess is feeling a little delicate this morning.

We must coax her back into life.

Mm.

Hello.

Mrs. Edwards I presume.

My name is Dirk Gently.

Your husband hired me.

This is Richard MacDuff, my assistant.

Partner and co-owner of the company.

Why did you throw a flowerpot through my door?

Because I'm investigating your husband's murder,

and there is not a moment to spare

in our quest to learn the truth and identify the killer.

Perhaps we should continue this conversation

over a nice cup of tea.

I'm very sorry about your husband.

I can't actually believe he's dead.

I keep expecting him to walk through the door.

Um...

Thank you.

The police seemed to have moved everything around.

In my experience, the police have very little respect

for other people's property.

Did you know that your husband believed

that the Pentagon had him under surveillance?

Do you think it had something to do with his work?

By his work, you mean specifically?

The computer software he was developing.

I am almost certain that you are absolutely right.

Tea. Excellent.

Thank you.

The police seem to be getting nowhere.

Unfortunately, that is to be expected.

Did my husband trust you, Mr. Gently?

With his life.

Would you be prepared to continue your investigation?

What was my husband paying you?

Five... six... seven hundred pounds per day,

plus all reasonable expenses.

Rest assured, Mrs. Edwards,

the web of interconnected events

will undoubtedly lead us to your husband's killer.

David was a very paranoid man.

Wherever the software prototype is,

he will have hidden it well.

If you can find it, we might discover why he was murdered.

We are of the same mind.

Me too.

Thank you, MacDuff.

I don't want to be seen to be undermining the police.

Can you be discreet, Mr. Gently?

I stake my reputation on it.

In fact, I've been known to be so discreet

that even my clients doubt I'm working on their case.

Think it's possible for us to visit a crime scene

without you treating it like a one-man buffet?

I believe Mr. Edwards' days of requiring a mint to suck on

are well and truly behind him.

I'm convinced the answer to the case

lies somewhere on the wall.

As ever, we are to trust in chance, randomness, and chaos

to solve the case.

Wherever the dart lands in this wall

will form the starting point of our investigation.

It sometimes takes several attempts

to achieve total randomness.

The accounts are a mess.

That would explain why Mr. Edwards' check bounced

like a proverbial rubber ball on a trampoline.

Why would anyone want to invade Switzerland?

You'd need a pretty good reason.

This isn't the work of a mad conspiracy theorist.

Isn't it?

It's the basis of the computer software

Mr. Edwards was working on.

It's genius.

Is it?

Most computer programs help you arrive at decisions

by ordering and analyzing all the relevant facts

so that they then point naturally

towards the right decision.

But what if the decision which all the relevant,

properly ordered, and analyzed facts point to

is not necessarily the one you want?

Then the one you want is probably wrong.

Since when did anyone care

whether a decision was right or wrong?

Mr. Edwards knew that,

so he developed a piece of software

that allowed you to specify, in advance,

the decision you wish to reach.

The program's task was then to construct

an irrefutable set of logical-sounding steps

to link the premise with the conclusion.

It justifies the unjustifiable.

Don't you see, MacDuff?

If this software were to fall into the wrong hands,

then no people or nation would be safe from tyranny.

Not even the Swiss.

The very existence of the free world is at stake.

From a computer program?

Come on, Dirk. That's a stretch, even for you.

The software that came up

with the weapons of mass destruction justification

has been totally discredited.

Wait, that was a computer program?

Of course it was.

What world are you living in, MacDuff?

A different one to you, obviously.

The Pentagon are clearly looking to upgrade their software.

Renew subscription to Playboy...

send software prototype...

So, your plan to save the free world

relies on the murderer shading a notepad?

There is no doubt the murderer will return

looking for the software.

All they will find on Mr. Edwards' desk...

is this notepad.

When faced with a blank piece of paper,

the only option left to them will be to shade it.

And then they'll come looking for you and me.

Isn't that dangerous?

Whether we like it or not,

we are now part of the web of interconnected events

that surround this case.

We must provoke a reaction from the other elements.

The bait has been set, MacDuff.

I think we're being followed.

Really?

Don't look.

I'm not looking.

They're still there.

Do you think it's the Pentagon?

I think...

it might be.

They're still there, Dirk

Just relax.

I'm relaxed.

Relax more.

We're nearly there. Just act calm.

Just see if they stop when we stop.

They're coming for us.

This sort of thing doesn't happen, does it?

It is imperative that they don't know

that we know that they're following us.

We must maintain the element of surprise.

Oh, God, it's happening. It's really happening.

Go. Go. Go, go, go, go, go!

What about Janice?

She'll be all right.

I'm looking for Dirk Gently.

There's a woman here to see you.

- Then show her in. - What are you doing?

You show her in!

How can I show her in when I'm already in myself?

Perhaps it would be best if I showed myself in?

Were you following us?

She wasn't following us, MacDuff.

She was merely going to the same place at the same time,

which, in itself, is profoundly relevant.

Dirk. Dirk Gently.

Emma Reynolds.

Richard MacDuff. Partner.

Assistant.

You must tell us what brought you here.

The very existence of the free world is at stake.

I think my husband's having an affair.

Oh, boring.

Please.

What makes you think your husband is having an affair?

Well, he's been behaving so strangely.

He's irrational and impulsive.

He stays away for hours,

and then he's all secretive about where he's been

or he says he doesn't remember.

I just want to be sure.

Yeah.

I need proof.

Yeah.

We'd love to help, obviously, wouldn't we, Dirk?

But we are...

we're in the middle of a very big case at the moment.

A murder.

It could have international implications.

It's big. It's, um...

Well, it's potentially huge.

Um...

Uh... Oh.

Okay.

Oh.

We used to be so happy.

He's changed.

There must be some reason.

I'll take the case.

What? I'm...

What about the free world, the other case?

I believe that Mr. Reynolds extramarital activities

are part of an interconnected web of events

that we must come to understand in its entirety

if we are to identify Mr. Edwards' killer.

Thank you.

Quick settlement of my invoice will be all the thanks I need.

We also need a recent photograph of your husband

before we commence what I can assure you

will be a most intrusive surveillance.

The police don't seem to have any idea

who killed Mr. Edwards.

That's because they're looking in all the wrong places.

We should be investigating his murder.

We are investigating Mr. Edwards' murder,

but we are doing so tangentially.

Ooh!

Our pizza.

Excellent.

What's the time?

What time do you make? What time do you have?

What time do you make it at the moment?

What time is it now?

Look, it says here on your thing.

Can you read that? Can you read that?

That's my pizza.

Their promotional material clearly states that if the pizza

isn't delivered within the hour, then it is free.

It probably doesn't count when you give them the wrong address.

MacDuff, that's him!

That's Mr. Reynolds!

Right.

I'll take the philandering, soon-to-be-divorced husband.

You take the attractive woman of Mediterranean origin.

She's on a bike.

Then you will need to run.

Do you need a lift?

Huh?

Where are you going?

Um, where are you going?

Islington.

What an amazing coincidence.

I can smell pizza.

Oh, that's me. You have a keen sense of smell.

It's very good of you to give me a lift like this.

It's my horoscope.

It predicted that today I would help a stranger.

And, well, here we are.

You think our meeting like this can be explained

by your horoscope?

Well, how else would you explain it?

It's him.

Terence Brown.

He's amazing.

His horoscopes are so accurate.

It's coming true every day.

It was just little things to start with.

Now it's everything.

It's like it's taking over my life.

You're suggesting that the movements of planets,

billions of light-years away,

are somehow determining your actions?

You realize that's completely impossible?

I didn't believe it either to start with.

But it's really happening.

I was a happily married man.

About a month ago, my horoscope predicted

that a new romantic possibility would present itself.

That's when I met...

Maria.

She was struggling with her shopping.

She'd hurt her ankle while performing a routine.

She's a pole dancer.

Pole dancer.

Why are you making notes?

Oh, it's professional habit.

You're a private detective.

Mm.

Perhaps I can be of some service to you.

Mr. Reynolds hired you?

So now we're charging two clients

to investigate the same case?

That has to go against our code of conduct.

Do we have a code of conduct?

Of course we don't. It's you.

They're clearly not the same case, are they, MacDuff?

Miss Reynolds asked us to investigate

whether her husband was having an affair.

Mr. Reynolds asked us to investigate

why his horoscope is seemingly coming true.

Now, the two cases are undoubtedly connected,

as all things are,

but they are not the same case,

as is clearly demonstrated

by the fact that they have separate files.

And they are both inextricably linked

to Mr. Edwards,

as clearly demonstrated

by the fact they reside in the same filing cabinet.

So, what's the connection?

Is there some sort of professional link?

Is there a personal connection?

What does Mr. Reynolds do for a living?

I don't know.

If the connections were that simple,

any idiot could set themselves up

as a holistic detective.

Oh, really?

Conspiracy theories and horoscopes

are all a product of the same ill-conceived desire

to impose order on the world.

What their proponents fail to understand

is that we must embrace chaos

if we are to come to an understanding of the world

in all its complexity.

There's some men here.

Oh, that'll be for me.

Hi, guys. Come on in.

All right.

- Thanks, guys. - Cheers, mate.

What the hell is that?

I'm your partner.

Assistant.

I need somewhere to work.

Well, now that you're comfortable, MacDuff,

perhaps you would care to keep an eye out

for Mr. Edwards' murderer

who has probably shaded the notepad by now

and may well be stopping by at any moment.

I can't see anyone.

I suspect they'll wait until it's dark.

It is dark.

Then I suspect they'll be paying us a visit at any minute.

Did you know you can tell a lot about a person

by their handwriting?

Observe the wild loops and the extravagant down strokes.

Let me guess.

It means they're completely insane.

You may well be right.

Where are you going?

I'm going to get us a pizza.

We're expecting a murderer to drop by any second.

You're perfectly safe, MacDuff.

No, I'm not!

The bait has been set.

I'm not going to stand here alone, in the trap,

while you go get a pizza.

Whoever the killer is, they're not gonna kill us

until they've got their hands on the software,

as we haven't got the software, they're never going kill us.

We're more in danger of starving to death.

Dirk?

Dirk?

Ow!

What the hell are you doing, MacDuff?

You nearly made me drop my pizza!

- Someone attacked me! - That was me, you idiot!

No. Before that. Someone else attacked me.

Then whoever it is has fallen straight into the middle

of my carefully prepared trap.

No, don't worry about me. I'm fine!

Anticipating that the murderer would wish to ransack our office

in search of the software,

I had the foresight to install surveillance.

Dim the lights, MacDuff.

The identity of Mr. Edwards' murderer will soon be revealed.

Where are you going?

I'm going to get us a pizza.

What? We're expecting a murderer any second.

I'm Dirk Gently.

It's all interconnected.

My assistant will make you tea.

I was just killing some time.

Dirk?

Right, if you'd told me there was a camera there,

that would never have happened.

You see, this is why you need to start treating me

like a partner.

Are you happy now, MacDuff? Are you?

You stabbed my chair.

You stabbed my...

- What is it? - Shh!

It appears your chair was bugged, MacDuff.

Oh, Jesus.

Oh, Jesus. The Pentagon bugged my chair.

They know everything.

They attacked me!

Dirk.

What if they know where I live?

I'll call Susan.

Susan. It's Richard.

Listen, I need you to...

No, just go to a friend's house.

Don't... I can't ex...

No, just...

Please just go to a friend's house!

She's going to go to a friend's house.

If the Pentagon bugged your chair,

they will have heard me say

that we are not, in fact, in possession of the software,

therefore they would have no need to assault you

and ransack the office.

Well, then, who attacked me?

Someone attacked me. Right before you did, I mean.

It appears we have provoked several reactions

from other elements in the web.

We must now try and understand the connections between them.

- Miss Reynolds. - Sorry.

I've been calling all day, but I keep getting stuck

in some sort of automated answering service.

Yes, yes. It can be rather stubborn.

Please take a seat.

I had to find out whether you've made any progress

with the investigation.

Well, it appears the case is somewhat more complex

than we initially thought.

What do you mean?

Your husband believes his horoscope is coming true.

Since this is clearly impossible,

something else is afoot,

and by following the web of interconnected events,

I feel confident that we will discover what it is.

But is he having an affair?

Oh, yes, he's having an affair,

with a rather attractive woman of Mediterranean origin.

She has lovely skin.

Oh.

I'll just get my assistant to make you a cup of tea.

Mr. Gently, I have to talk to you.

It's my horoscope.

It says that a "dark secret will be exposed."

Now, I think that my wife knows.

Emma, why are you here?

I hired Mr. Gently.

Why are you here?

I hired Mr. Gently.

Can I just say right here

we are treating these as two very distinct cases?

Separate files.

You're having an affair.

No. It's not what you think.

It's not me. It's my horoscope.

It's Jupiter rising.

Why?

Emma, it's not me.

It's what my horoscope predicted.

What does it say?

"Life will deliver a slap in the face."

- Now do you believe me? - Absolutely not.

And in the morning,

after a good night's sleep and a hearty breakfast,

and after I have evaded the Pentagon surveillance,

I will prove beyond a shadow of a doubt

that these events have nothing to do with Jupiter,

or any other planet, rising.

What have you done to your leg?

Nothing wrong with my leg, MacDuff.

I took three tubes and four different buses on the way here.

Hopping on and off all the way.

I don't think I was followed. Did you see anyone?

No.

But that doesn't mean we aren't being watched.

Why are we here?

How is this getting us any closer to Mr. Edwards' killer?

Well, that's the beauty of holistic detection, MacDuff.

We're getting closer,

even when it appears we're moving further away.

Mr. Brown will see you now. You can go up.

Please take a seat.

I prefer to stand.

Right.

So, what can I do for you, Mr. Gently?

I'm led to believe that you specialize

in providing personalized horoscopes?

Yes, we e-mail them to over two million people worldwide.

Our client has come to believe

that the predictions made in his horoscope are coming true.

You sound surprised?

Well, a scientific mind such as mine can never accept

that the movements of planets billions of light-years away

are in any way responsible

for determining our behavior.

I'm not sure what it is you're telling me.

Don't look at me.

I presume these horoscopes are generated

by some kind of computer program stored on a server?

Correct.

Mm.

Well, then, it would appear

that this software

is responsible for my client's distress.

You think our computer software

is somehow victimizing your client?

It would appear so, yes.

I believe that's your phone ringing.

Hello? What?

Jesus! How bad is it?

No. Call a plumber.

I'll be right there.

A pipe's burst in my flat.

The whole place is flooded.

I'm sorry. I really have to go.

I'm surprised that your horoscope

wasn't able to predict such an unfortunate calamité.

Has anyone ever told you you're an annoying prick?

Yeah. He gets that a lot.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

I really have to go.

No problem. A burst pipe waits for no man.

We'll show ourselves out.

Oh, God.

Please tell me you're not about to urinate

on that man's computer server.

Don't be ridiculous, MacDuff.

Oh, no, silly me.

You've simply got a sledgehammer down your pants.

Unlike our good friend the astrologer,

I was able to predict that his flat was to be the subject

of a most unfortunate act of God.

Hello?

I'm from the water company.

That should do it.

Do what exactly?

Dirk, you're going to get us arrested!

We are conducting a scientific experiment

to categorically prove

that our client's horoscope

is not, in fact, predicting the events in his life.

I think we're being followed.

Right, are we really being followed,

or is it just someone going to the same place at the same time?

- We're really being followed. - How can you tell?

Because they're flashing their lights at us.

Well, what do they want?

I have no intention of stopping to find out.

Come on, you beautiful bitch!

Jesus!

- They're coming for us! - Get down.

Back up. Put it in reverse.

I can't. It's disappeared.

What do you mean it's disappeared?

- It was here earlier. - Where is it now?

I don't know.

- Just let me do it. - No!

- Find it! - I'm trying!

Ah, Detective Inspector Gilks.

What a pleasant and unexpected surprise.

It has come to my attention

that you may be withholding a key piece of evidence...

There's not been any withholding.

There's nothing withheld.

in relation to the murder of a one Mr. Edwards.

May I ask what has led you

to draw such an erroneous conclusion?

Well, it appears that Mr. Edwards wrote a to-do list

shortly before he died.

Uh, look.

"Pick up dry cleaning,"

renew subscription to Playboy,

"send software prototype to Dirk Gently."

Now, how is that for erroneous?

I see.

Well, as I've not received any prototype,

I can only assume it's languishing

in the black hole that passes for my local sorting office.

Who are you working for, Gently?

I'm not at liberty to divulge that information.

There is no greater bond of trust

than that between a detective and his client.

Arrest him.

I'm working for Mrs. Edwards!

- Ow! - Really?

Mrs. Edwards?

As in the wife of Mr. Edwards?

Yeah, the very same.

That really is remarkable.

Thank you.

Considering that Mrs. Edwards was killed in a car accident

in September of last year.

Mrs. Edwards as in the wife of Mr. Edwards?

The very same.

Well, that is remarkable.

I put my hands up.

You've caught me out in an outrageous lie.

There is no client.

I'm merely interested in collecting the reward offered

for the apprehension of Mr. Edwards' killer.

That's obviously another lie.

Well, I have no intention of arresting you.

Very wise.

Your incompetent meddling

is more than likely to get you killed.

And then I shall undoubtedly have some new leads to pursue.

You are my tethered goat, Gently.

Why did we assume she was Mrs. Edwards?

Well, when I startle a woman tidying her kitchen cupboards

by throwing a large concrete flowerpot through her back door,

I feel it's safe to assume she's the lady of the house.

She wasn't tidying the cupboards.

She was searching them.

That's why she didn't know where the tea was.

Then it is probably safe to assume

she, in fact, works for the Pentagon

and was looking for the software prototype.

There is only one way to be sure.

Mrs. Edwards?

Dirk Gently.

There has been a significant breakthrough

in the investigation.

Perhaps we could meet.

We're probably going to end up being waterboarded.

If they do torture us, I'm going to talk.

And I'm going to tell them this is all down to you.

Perhaps you'd like to cower in the Princess

like a startled sparrow?

Mrs. Edwards.

I must say you look remarkably well...

for a dead woman.

She... She...

She's dead.

She must have thought I was being incredibly sarcastic.

- Where's the front door? - What?

The front door! We've got to get out of here.

I thought we were looking for the killer.

No, we're running away from the killer.

Are we chasing the killer, or is the killer chasing us?

Why would we chase the killer?

We have to go to the police

and we have to tell them

that the woman pretending to be Mrs. Edwards

has been murdered.

You think the police will protect us?

You heard Gilks. I'm his tethered goat.

I don't want to be a tethered goat, Dirk.

Tethered goats die, horribly.

Well, we only appear to be tethered,

when, in fact, the noose has slipped from our necks

and we're about to spring into action.

No, no, we go to the police.

We go to the police, and we come clean.

We tell them everything.

We don't tell them about you robbing Mr. Edwards

after he'd been murdered.

That bit they don't need to know.

We're not going to the police, are we?

No. We're following that white car.

Of course we're following that white car.

In an emergency, follow a white car.

Why are we following a white car?

Because it looks like it knows where it's going.

Zen Navigation!

The goats are untethered and traveling in some style!

So this Zen Navigation of yours has led us to the pub?

I believe it will transpire

that this is exactly where we needed to be.

I think the guy we followed knows we're following him.

Then I imagine he's rather paranoid.

Who are you calling?

Our astrology experiment should have worked by now.

Ah, Mr. Reynolds. Dirk Gently.

I was wondering if you'd care to join myself and my assistant

for a drink.

What exactly is this horoscope experiment

going to prove anyway?

If Mr. Reynolds walks through that door,

as I expect him to do at any moment,

wearing some extravagant head gear

and talking of an encounter with a rhinoceros,

then I will have proven

that the connections between events are inevitable

and more often than not accidental

and are in no way predetermined

by the movements of planets billions of light-years away.

Mr. Reynolds, how good of you to join us.

And I see you've brought a friend.

Yeah. It was my horoscope.

It said I would have an encounter with a rhinoceros.

I was walking along the street.

Someone throws him out of a window onto a skip.

I can assure you

that your horoscope predicted no such thing.

Huh? Read it. It says it right here.

I do not doubt what it says, but that is not your horoscope,

on account of the computer server

that sends out the horoscopes

having met with a most unfortunate accident

earlier in the day.

What you have in your hand is merely an e-mail that I sent you

purporting to be your horoscope.

If I had suggested you had an encounter with a cast-iron bath

and you were strong enough,

you'd now be carrying that around with you.

There was a cast-iron bath in the skip.

There always is.

Your horoscope was never coming true.

When you started to believe it was,

it became a self-fulfilling prophecy.

I found it in the back of the taxi on the way here.

I can't even remember when I started to believe

that my horoscope was coming true.

What's happening to me?

Emma. My marriage is over.

Your life is been restored to its natural, chaotic state.

Jesus!

That's my invoice.

The more pressing question

is how this development relates to Mr. Edwards' murder.

There's been an interesting development, MacDuff.

Someone has sent me another Valentine's Day card.

Well, if I'd known it was this important,

I'd have got here a lot sooner.

The Valentine's Day card was delivered by hand.

We will soon discover who has been sending them.

This time, I've made certain

that your chair would not sabotage me.

You've sawn the back off my chair?

You cannot deny that it didn't have it coming, MacDuff.

Why are you obsessing over Valentine's Day cards

and stuffed fluffy pigs, Dirk?

Our lives are in danger.

I've already told you, MacDuff.

Since we are not, in fact,

in possession of the computer software

that the murderer is seeking,

we are perfectly safe.

- MacDuff. - What?

It's a memory stick.

I believe it's safe to assume

that it contains the prototype of the software.

How can you be so sure?

It says so on the label.

So, if we are in possession of what the murderer wants,

our lives really are in danger.

Absolutely.

Right, then we take this to the police right now

and we find ourselves a nice little old lady

who has lost her cat or her dog or her husband.

Nonsense, MacDuff.

Things are becoming nicely out of control.

I have to see Mr. Gently.

That crazy horoscope guy is here to see you.

Then show him in.

You show him in!

I believe we have already discussed

my inability to show someone in when I am already in myself!

Could we please just pay her wages?

If we pay her wages, MacDuff,

then she will no longer turn up to work

in the futile hope that one day we will pay her wages.

Do I have to think of everything?

I'm going to die.

Well, that makes three of us.

Cup of tea?

"You are nearing the end of an era."

"It will be a black day."

"You should realize that life is precious."

"It's time to say goodbye to the past."

Look, can't you see? They're all the same.

They're all predicting that I'm going to die.

Mr. Reynolds,

I believe I've already proven beyond all doubt

that your horoscope is not, in fact, coming true.

Do you still have the rhinoceros?

What are you talking about? What rhinoceros?

Are you saying you have no memory of the rhinoceros,

or of our meeting in the pub yesterday?

What meeting?

Interesting.

What is all this?

Is this supposed to make any sense?

What is this obsession with order?

There is too much order!

We must embrace the chaos.

Open your mind!

Embrace the chaos! Embrace it!

I don't want to die!

Neither did Mr. Edwards.

You think you're going to die because of your horoscope.

Mr. Edwards believed

the Pentagon were trying to kill him.

Yes. You see? Don't you see?

Death is random and unexpected and very rarely predictable.

If it were, we would all live a lot longer.

Yes, the Pentagon didn't murder Mr. Edwards.

So, who was the woman pretending to be his wife?

What about the bug in my chair?

Well, I have no doubt

the Pentagon wish to acquire the software prototype

and spread tyranny across the free world.

But what if Mr. Edwards wasn't killed for the software?

There must something else, something else.

These accounts are a mess.

Check bounced. Mr. Edwards was broke.

I thought he was rich.

Mr. Edwards believed he was rich.

Money, money, money. See?

Someone was stealing from him.

What about me?

I would have thought that all this makes it perfectly clear

that yours and Mr. Edwards' cases are inextricably connected

by mistaken assumptions

about who or what is trying to kill you.

So, who or what is going to kill me?

I believe the answer is to be found

by investigating the causes

of Mr. Edwards' precarious financial situation.

Are you sure a piano or something

isn't going to fall on me?

There is no sign of falling pianos, tubas,

or any other musical instruments.

At least, not today.

You will be perfectly safe cocooned

within the Princess' magnificent bosom.

I can smell Brie.

It makes a handy, portable snack.

I find Brie to be among the least controversial of cheeses.

You could smell my Brie?

Isn't that the guy we followed to the pub?

Bit of a coincidence.

There are no such things as coincidences, MacDuff.

Really?

Why is he parked outside our office, then?

We're about to find out.

We must provoke a reaction.

What the hell are you doing?

I think you have your answer, MacDuff.

He's come to kill us.

Oh, Jesus! It's happening!

I can't escape it.

Chaos and randomness have brought us to this place.

We're on the verge of a breakthrough.

Dirk!

Nobody move.

- He's come for me. - He's come for us!

Hand it over.

I'm sorry to interrupt.

- Who are you? - He's Mr. Edwards' accountant.

Is he? Are you?

Mr. Edwards' didn't know he was being stolen from,

only his accountant could keep that from him.

What do you mean he didn't know?

Mr. Edwards hired you to find out who was stealing from him.

He was onto me.

- That's why I had to kill him. - You killed him?

Mr. Edwards hired myself and my partner

because he believed the Pentagon had him under surveillance.

Oh, I see.

Now we've got a gun pointed at us,

I'm your partner all of a sudden.

Oh, there's no pleasing you, is there, MacDuff?

- I think it's a bit rich... - Shut up!

You were investigating me.

You followed me from outside Mr. Edwards' house

after I killed that woman who was snooping around.

She was working for you, wasn't she?

We believe she was working for the Pentagon.

We only followed you

because you looked like you knew where you were going.

Yes. I hope you'll no longer doubt

the value of Zen Navigation.

You cannot deny we ended up exactly where we needed to be.

Oh, yeah. Oh, no. I think it's worked out brilliantly.

Will you shut up?

Do you think I'm stupid?

You're lying.

Hand it over.

Perhaps it would help if you were to tell us exactly

what it is you wish us to hand over?

The evidence that I killed Mr. Edwards.

I know you've got it.

I will shoot you.

He's going to kill us.

He's not interested in you!

I'll kill all of you.

If you are to die, it's only as an innocent bystander.

Has someone been eating cinnamon?

I had a cinnamon whirl at the coffee shop.

You were following me!

How long have you had this acute sense of smell?

I don't know. I can't remember.

You've got three seconds.

One, two...

All right, you're absolutely right.

It's all on here, every incriminating detail.

Mr. Reynolds! Mr. Reynolds!

Oliver.

Don't do it, Oliver!

Listen, listen, we can help you, okay.

Just think of your wife.

She loves you.

I can't escape it.

I want to end my life on my terms.

Oliver, you're not going to die.

You couldn't be more wrong, MacDuff.

Your erratic behavior. Your memory loss.

Your acute sense of smell.

These are all common symptoms in someone with a brain tumor.

It explains everything.

You clearly have a massive brain tumor.

So my horoscope was right.

I am going to die.

Yeah, probably, but not because of your horoscope.

It'll be the huge, tumorous growth

pressing on your frontal cortex that'll kill you.

Do...

Aah!

It seems we will never learn

who sent me those Valentine's Day cards.

Where's Oliver? What happened?

Your husband is fine, Miss Reynolds.

When I say fine, he has a multitude of broken bones,

a fractured skull, and a brain tumor.

Brain tumor?

I believe the tumor is responsible

for his recent behavior.

The change in his mental state

caused him to believe that his horoscope was coming true.

The extramarital affair

with the attractive woman of Mediterranean origin

is just a symptom of his condition.

Is he going to be all right?

After some rather complicated brain surgery

and a good deal of time in traction,

the doctor has assured me he will be just fine.

Thank God.

Which just leaves the very small matter of my invoice.

Does this invoice cover charging myself and my husband

for investigating the same case?

To the untrained eye,

my methods may sometimes appear somewhat tangential.

It seems we're going to have to console ourselves

with collecting the reward

for apprehending Mr. Edwards' killer.

I'm sorry.

They're not going to give us the reward

when they realize

the only reason Mr. Edwards' accountant murdered him

was because he hired you.

Ah, but if Mr. Edwards hadn't hired me,

Mr. Reynolds' brain tumor may never have been diagnosed,

resulting in his untimely demise.

I'm merely part of the web

that interconnected these two events.

We're still not getting paid by anyone, though, are we?

You're forgetting we are still in possession

of an extremely valuable software prototype.

We're going to be rich, MacDuff!

The memory stick.

It was in my pocket.

Sorry.

I believe we are having the sort of day

that would make even Mother Teresa kick babies.

We will be requiring tea.

I'm going on an excessively long lunch break.

Very good.

I forgot my bag.

I was just looking for a pair of scissors.

MacDuff.

MacDuff. MacDuff.

At 0700 hours local time,

American tanks rolled across the border into Mexico.

There's been an interesting development.

overwhelming show of force,

the Mexican Army surrendered en masse,

and by midday,

the American flag was flying over Mexico City.

That is very fast, even for the Pentagon.

surprisingly little protest from the United Nations.

Even America's staunchest critics have conceded

that the logic and reasoning behind the invasion

appear irrefutable.