All language subtitles for Jonathan Creek s03e07 Satans Chimney.eng

(MUSIC: DANSE MACABRE BY SAINT-SAËNS)

(CREEPY MUSIC)

(CREAKS)

- (HORSE NEIGHS)
- (DRIVER) Get on with you.

(MAN) It's more of them. The heretics!

(SHOUTS OF ABUSE)

(DRIVER) Out of the way!

Come on, you bitch.

(WOMAN WAILS)

(SCREAMS)

No, let me go!

(MUFFLED CRIES)

(MUFFLED CRIES)

No... No... I beseech you!

(MUTTERED PRAYING)

Dear Jesus, he has taken her!

(SOBS)

No, no, no.

Oh, Lord God, have mercy on her soul!

(WOMAN SIGHS WITH PLEASURE)

Well, that was yow!

One second, while I get
my eyeballs to face forward again.

God, I'm out of condition.

Whereas you, Mr Janus,
have nothing to be ashamed of.

(PROMPTER)
What was it they taught me in the Boy Scouts?

Practice makes perfect.

Boy Scouts.

That must take you back all of ten years.

Why do I feel like an old lady?

(PROMPTER) Because you don't see
that when we're together,

time has no meaning.

Sorry. Sorry, this is just, I mean,
very hard for me to focus like this.

OK.

Cut it.

It's not working. Let's... Geoff, put the 25 on.

Let's get the coverage
going under the sheets on hand-held.

Where are the body doubles?

(DIRECTOR) Vivian, Vivian, I know.

I know it feels unnatural to you.

(VIVIAN) For God's sake, Herman.
We were making love!

If he could just pop his head round the door
occasionally, to see how I'm getting on.

Like I said, when you buy into
that kind of idiosyncratic genius,

the hypochondria comes with the territory.

It's a mild throat infection.
What does he think he'll catch?

I'm not asking him to suck my tonsils.

I promise nothing.

Can't fight the math, Viv. He's a 24-carat asshole

and he'll gross this picture 200 million.

Raymond, you couldn't be an angel
and get me some more water?

I mean, with the best will in the world, Jodee,
she's not George Clooney.

Who is?

Now. You got five minutes
to coach me on my English accent?

(BASEBALL COMMENTARY)

Yes! Is he looking for trouble today?!

See that one, Herm? Clean through the bleachers.

Bronson, we have a major problem
back there with Vivian.

- You just came from the set, right?
- Uh-huh. Now...

Would it be too much to ask you
to do your own dialogue for the reverses?

As a special favour to your co-star?

Face it, Matt.
I'm not a wild young twenty-something any more.

These days, I'm looking for depth and sensitivity.

Dare I say the word... a little tenderness?

(CRACKLES, BRONSON SPEAKS)
In other words, be gentle with me, right?

Listen, when you fall in love...
Holy shit! Where did you learn to catch?

(CROWD CHEERS)

Yes. Is this Carla Borrego?

I'm Jonathan Creek, production consultant
on the Adam Klaus Magic Show.

I think you're being totally
unreasonable about the rehearsal time.

Never in eight series has a guest artist
charged extra for a dress run.

You could well
be putting your client's life at ri...

Excuse me. Why do I feel
I'm not getting your undivided attention?

Uh-huh.

When I want a lecture in theatrical management
from a prop boy, I'll let you know.

I'm sorry if you have numeracy problems.
I made the position clear in my last fax.

One appearance, of at most 10 minutes' duration,

licensed for five years in all specified territories.

Any supplementary attendance
subject to further negotiation.

Adore it. Just the bill, then, please.

(JONATHAN RANTS ON PHONE)

- Yes, madam?
- Show it as business sundries.

(RANTING)

(SIGHS) Sorry, who is this I'm speaking to again?

As in old and rusty or feeble little stream?

Well, let me remind you, Mr Creek,

that Alan Kalanak is currently
the 17th-highest-paid entertainer in America.

For the derisory sum you're paying,
you're lucky to get him at all. Goodbye.

Oh, is that right? Well...

Excuse me. What am I, a professional door
wedge? A little "thank you" wouldn't go amiss.

People like you make me so sick.

No one else in the world exists,
do they, except you?

- So, do you live near here, then?
- What?

Well... quite near.

Vivian, I think you're personalising this
when there's no need.

I don't see how it's a crime for me to be
vigilant about getting a respiratory infection.

Vigilant? You must have been clairvoyant!

Because I would like to know how many weeks'
notice were required to run this thing up!

(HERMAN) OK. Bronson felt
that the really deep tongue activity...

Do you have any idea how many staphylococci
are released in the average French kiss?

Believe me, it runs in the...
Don't break the seal, please.

- It's meant to be sterile.
- Pity your father wasn't.

I'm sorry, but this man
is the most immature, selfish, insensitive

and thoroughly charming individual
I have ever worked with.

- A real professional and a gentleman.
- Vivian Brodie, thanks for talking to us.

- Good luck with the film.
- Pleasure.

There we are, hot from the set
of Herman Grole's new movie, "Black Snow",

being filmed at Inkerman Lodge,
just outside Andover.

- A little bit of professional tact there, Sonia?
- That's right.

Mr Bronson Peterman may currently be the
hottest thing in or out of trousers in Hollywood,

but he's not the easiest of actors to work with.

A health and hygiene nut, you were saying?

This is a man who flosses his comb
at least three times daily.

What about our own Miss Brodie?
You've got some Stop Press news there.

She let slip she's having dinner tonight
with her ex-husband, Alan Kalanak,

who's here on a European tour.

Alan Kalanak, the man they're calling
the modern-day Houdini.

- There he is in his bondage gear.
- That's right.

If you want to make a cool million,
that's on offer

to whoever comes up with
a set of locks or chains he can't get out of.

- Hi.
- They divorced about ten years ago.

(CARLA) Well. You learn something every day.

Alan Kalanak and Vivian Brodie.

So...

Look, you call me, soon.

- How soon?
- Today. Lunchtime.

Let me give you my number.

- You won't forget?
- I'm like an elephant.

(HERMAN) "Deep into the darkness peering,

"long I stood there wondering, fearing

"Dreaming dreams
no mortal ever dared to dream before."

Darkness is a lonely place, Vivian.

Maybe you should think
of sharing it with someone.

Sharing?

Whatever it is that's been eating away at you
ever since we started this shoot.

Every day, I see it in your eyes,

a kind of haunted melancholy that won't let go.

Hey, we go back a hell of a way.

I don't even remember
the first picture we did together.

I think DW Griffith was the clapper loader.

All I'm saying,

I hope our history counts for something.

And maybe when we're done here,
you should take a break.

Get away for a few weeks.

A few weeks at Doomdorf Castle.

Only you would give up a mansion in Malibu
to buy a godforsaken pile in Scotland

full of dungeons and bones.

You once called it
the sweetest land on God's earth.

Where the soul of a Scot
might one day find eternal rest.

(KNOCK AT DOOR)

Ready on set for rehearsal.

(JONATHAN) You wonder if she has a reflection!

She insists he's contracted for the recording.
If we want him earlier, it'll cost us zillions.

Sorry, give me that again.

223 Claverley Terrace.

We'll be there at eight. Can't wait to see you.

How do you figure that one out?
Kenny Starkiss, remember?

Mr Wacko. Three years ago,
he sends me ideas that stink the place out.

A double-jointed pigeon trained to open
a hidden compartment with its beak.

You said "No thanks", but you recognised
a major new talent when it came along.

What else was I going to say?

"You useless piece of junk,
you know dick about magic"?

The guy really does... Hey, hey.

Save it for the Space Shuttle.
We're talking light and floaty here.

Turns out now he's been in Europe.

Think he said Norway or someplace.

Turning his career around, could we
drop by tonight to discuss a few projects?

If you're nice to people on the way up...

I mean, Kenny Starkiss! Who would've thought it?

Trumped-up little parasite!
Talking about coming to recce the theatre now,

- (ADAM WAILS)
- "To ensure the facilities meet my client's..."

Oh, shit!

- Oh, God, Jonathan! Help!
- Adam.

- God, help me!
- Hang on! I've got you!

Leave go, Adam. I've got you!

(CARLA) Well...

Forgive me for gatecrashing
this romantic little tryst.

- Just keep your mouth shut for a minute.
- Yes, I think that's good advice all round.

Anyway, when you've got a moment.

It's not exactly Caesar's Palace,
but I daresay they'll cope.

To your average American, these pokey
little holes have a certain Old World charm.

All right, look. As I'm feeling
uncommonly generous today,

I'll try and get you
another hour to block your shots.

At no extra cost.

You got lucky last night, then.

Beg your pardon!

Someone's put colour in your cheeks,
it sticks out a mile.

- What's his name?
- How dare you... be so personal?

If it's any of your business,
how do you know I haven't been to the gym?

Vernon.

Who, despite being a man,
just happens to have many admirable qualities.

He's honest and charming and thoughtful.

They say opposites attract.

In fact, you may well be talking
to the future Mrs Carla Spools.

It happens his family are very big in the betting
industry, and very well connected.

- What?
- You're not serious?

Vernon Spools?
And he's in the betting business?

Did he go through your drawers
and hit the jackpot?

It's his real name.

If he wasn't serious,
why did he make me promise faithfully

to ring him back later today,
this lunchtime? What?

You don't think that's a real number?
Dear, oh, dear.

- (MAN) Hello?
- Hello.

May I speak to Mr Spools, please?

Mr... who, sorry?

- Mr Vernon Spools.
- You what?

- S-P-O...
- (LOUD LAUGHTER FROM PHONE)

It's just possible
you're the most horrible person I've ever met.

So, when did you last see him?

Must be a couple of years ago.
We're rarely on the same continent.

- Ah, he'll be here in an hour.
- Well, you guys have a great time.

- Miss Brodie, we're such big fans. Could you?
- Yes, of course.

And be careful if he brings out the handcuffs.

(ANSWERPHONE BEEPS)

Hi, Viv, just got through this PR gig.

I'm gonna be maybe 20 minutes late.

So, give that Cabernet time to breathe.

Can't wait to see you, babe. Bye. (BEEP)

Oh, my God.

Look. Please listen to me.
I know what you're going through,

what you must think of me, but...

you have to believe me,

what you wanted, the two of us, wasn't possible.

God forgive me if I ever
let you believe that we could...

Please don't say those things. Please.

Oh, please. Please don't.

So you reckon this guy's got quite
a career going for him now in Scandinavia?

- Sounds a bit dodgy.
- Maybe they're not fussy in the fjords.

Still, if the name Kenny Starkiss
packs heat in that part of the world,

he could be a contact to cultivate.

Which one did we say? 223?

Oh, excuse me.

Oh, no problem.
I'm really glad you could make it.

- You found the address OK?
- Kenny?

Oh, man.

Yeah, yeah. I know, I know.

Things'll pick up, any day.

'Cause you know,
when no one else could give a shit,

you gave me more than a shit, Mr Klaus.

You gave me self-belief

and the courage to quit my job

and shove one big finger up at the world.

And even when my wife was like,
"This is killing our marriage.

"From now on, it's me or the magic,"

I kept remembering what you wrote to me -

"I can recognise a major new talent
when it comes along."

- And I mean, I love those kids.
- Right.

Right. So I guess things didn't work out
for you over there, Kenny. In the end.

- Pardon me?
- You said on the phone

you'd been living in Norway.

Er... in a doorway.

OK, everyone. This is Kenny, who'll be joining us
as an associate creative consultant.

If you'd ease him in gently,
make him feel at home,

I'd appreciate it.

See what happens
when you encourage someone with no talent?

Not only have you screwed up his life,
reduced him to the level of a cave-dweller,

I've got to pretend to work with him
to repair the damage!

The man's barely got two brain cells
to rub... Kenny!

How are you doing? Finding your way around?

I've got a great new bit for the TV series.

You know those guillotine tricks
always suck on the telly?

Like you never really believe
the blade actually goes through?

So how about this?
We find some guy with a terminal illness, OK?

Probably could do with a bob or two
for his next of kin. And...

we cut his head off.

It's a thought, isn't it, Adam?
Prime-time euthanasia.

Could be just what the BBC are looking for
to spearhead the autumn schedule.

Maybe you'd like to draw up
some kind of a discussion document, Kenny,

so we can kick it around.

We've a special guest artist arriving, we'll be
working through his act all morning, so...

Alan Kalanak, you old son of a gun!

As I live and breathe! (LAUGHS)

(WOMAN) What do you take me for?
(MAN) I really don't see the problem.

(JODEE)
You want to make me feel inadequate...

(BRONSON) Susan, I know this sounds crazy,

but it's like the two of you,
at that moment, somehow become one.

- It's the weirdest thing.
- So when you're screwing my mother,

you're still really screwing me?

And vice versa.

- That day in the forest, something happened.
- (WOMAN) Gunshot.

(HERMAN) Out in the garden,
we see a groundsman chopping wood.

As the axe bisects the log, it becomes a skull.

The Phantom appears, picks up both the pieces
and places them back on the pile,

while back inside we find Susan and Matt
struggling with the door handle.

Oh, dear God! This isn't happening!

It's locked. How do we open it?

And we dissolve to see the groundsman's axe
tearing through the wooden panel,

as, forcing their way in,
they find Lorraine Caulfield seated at the desk,

a nine-millimetre Beretta inches from her hand,
the side of her head awash with blood.

♪ Well, I was born an original sinner

♪ I was born from original sin

♪ And if I had a dollar bill
for all the things I've done

♪ There'd be a mountain of money
piled up to my chin, hey!

♪ My mama told me good,

♪ My mama told me strong

♪ She said be true to yourself
and you can't go wrong

♪ But there's just one thing
that you must understand

♪ You can fool with your brother

♪ But don't mess with a missionary man

♪ Don't mess with a missionary man

♪ Don't mess with a missionary man... ♪

Unbe-bloody-lievable!

I don't care how many picks
he can hide in his throat, that's impossible.

I'm taking this one right through as a master.

The end frame will be a process shot,
tracking deep into your left eye.

- You happy to go for it?
- Uh-huh.

(MAN) Everybody, we're going for a take!

Quiet, please, now.

Mother! Oh, for Pete's sake!
Dear God! This isn't happening!

The door's locked from the inside.
How are we gonna open it?

OK, round on the door, lan.
OK, Tom. Hit it now.

Oh, my God. Hurry up!

Oh, my God!

(GROANS)

Oh, shit. Herman!

Herman!

(GASPS)

(HERMAN) Still breathing.

Get an ambulance.

Vivian, can you hear me?

What happened?

Who did this?

(GASPS) H... H... H...

(WPC) Inspector. Waiting for you in the study.

I'm telling you.
Nobody could've got into that room or out of it.

What the hell kinda weird shit's going on here?

Hey, buddy!
Do you ever get travel sick in this thing?

I mean, that was... wow! I don't think
you know my associate, Jonathan Creek.

I've heard good things.

And, of course, the only agent
who's always welcome to 10% of me.

Carla, how you doing, my sweetheart?

Wa-hey, what have we here?

Remember, Al? You taught me this one.
Must've been back in '79.

You know, that cat house in Atlantic City?

You know, since I became a preacher with
the Lutheran Church, I've left all that behind,

along with anything that debases
or profanes the sanctity of womanhood.

Well, we can all get behind that.

Pair of wire cutters up the arse.

Think about it.

Something tells me
you could be a lot happier in your work.

Maybe that's why you've carved out an ancillary
career in the field of impossible crimes.

Yes. You see, I've done my research.

- Not that I wish to seem predatory, but...
- No, you can be predatory.

I'm always looking for fresh perspectives
to re-energise the material.

And you can rest assured, you wouldn't
be working for bargain basement rates.

Think it over.

I appreciate you giving us the extra time.

- I guess your agent had to nag you...
- She didn't.

I told Carla way back, I have to be there.
At the theatre, all day.

- Why? What did she tell you?
- (CARLA) Alan...

What?

It's Vivian.

In God's name, what's happened to her?

Yes, well, anything I can do to help, Inspector.

For sure. Bye.

Alan, I'm so sorry.

- I don't know how close you were...
- We'd... kept in touch, you know,

across the years.

- You can't think of anyone with a reason to?
- You want the truth?

I never met a soul who didn't adore her.

All those implausibly nice women she played,

I swear to you, that was Vivian.

But now, after the other night at her hotel,

it's like...

from the minute she opened the door,

there was this strange obsessive frailty
I'd never seen before.

Like she worried
about her skirt being too short.

She'd had to borrow an outfit from wardrobe.

Well, you know, I just didn't buy it.

(SPEAKS HESITANTLY)

Easy to say so now but...

I guess what I saw
in her eyes that night was... mortal terror.

And now you just think, "Dear merciful Jesus,
shouldn't I have done something?"

Hey. Come on.

Look, maybe I can make some enquiries.
I've got a lot of contacts in this business.

I know nothing can bring her back,
but at least we'd feel we were doing something.

You'll look after me, right?

It's just the way she was killed
was almost like magic,

and that's really not your department.

You mean...

maybe I need some professional help?

That's exactly what I mean.

(THUNDER CRASHES)

By way of deep background on the murder victim.

Her friends, her colleagues
and the movie she was making.

For some reason, I can't imagine why,

he wanted me to pick your brains.

Like I've got nothing better to do
than come here to this...

peculiar place.

I don't suppose you possess
such a thing as a tow...

Of course, the police are running around like
headless chickens trying to make sense of it.

I still can't believe it's happened.

Vivian Brodie, shot through the heart
in an empty room, right under everyone's nose.

Pity they didn't shoot the director.
How he gets away with this stuff...

A mother and daughter
are two halves of the same person.

The only way it could have happened...
It couldn't have happened.

Somehow, the murderer fired a bullet
through a sheet of glass without breaking it.

"Herman Grole, surrealist auteur
or candidate for care in the community?"

Do you realise what the catering budget on a film
like this could do for the Horn of Africa?

You haven't listened to a word I've said,
have you, since I got here?

If you'd bothered to watch the news,
you'd know what I'm talking about.

When they closed the door,
she was alone in the study.

No one could've got in or out.
The door was in full view of the crew.

There was nowhere anyone could've hidden,
and no sign of the murder weapon.

The gun was just a prop and hadn't moved.

According to ballistics, the gun that killed her
was fired from at least five metres away,

putting the killer
a good six or seven feet outside the window.

Yet the window was completely intact
and clearly hadn't been opened.

Not only was it protected on the inside
by another glass panel bolted to the wall,

there wasn't any water on the frame,

despite the fact that it was bucketing down
with rain at the... time.

- What?
- No, it's just this CV of hers.

She's hardly
been out of work since she first started.

Two or three movies a year, telly, theatre.
Except for 1973/74 - there's nothing at all listed.

Well, it does happen, believe it or not.

People do have fallow years from time to time.

Of course, I'm just a prop boy.
I wouldn't know about these things.

Doesn't mean you can't learn.

A free piece of advice: You shouldn't take
everything that's happened here at face value.

You mean...
things may not be quite what they seem?

Remember, these are
highly skilled Hollywood actors

who can make us believe anything they want.

Bronson Peterman, her co-star, by all accounts
was driving her completely batty.

Jodee Tressky, who plays her daughter.

What she got up to
on her last picture is nobody's business.

What?

Let's just say it involved an electrician,
cinnamon-flavoured bubblegum, and leave it.

The other thing you forgot
is that just before she died...

She pointed at the window and tried to speak.

With her last breath, obviously.

Gesturing to where the gunman
had just been standing, or gunwoman.

But by the time everyone piled in,
he or she had already escaped across the lawn.

You think she was pointing
outside the window? Interesting.

- Are you trying to be funny?
- I remember how heavily it was raining.

Doesn't that suggest
something blindingly obvious?

26.40. That's got to be getting there,
Jonathan. What do you reckon?

Bear in mind, Kenny, the weight of all
the soil on top will affect your air pressure.

Give it one more go.
See if you can nudge it up to 30?

- I'll make coffee. How do you take it?
- Black with milk.

Just a dash.

Oh. Is this the woman that you?

Correct.

- So where is she?
- Texas, some publishing junket.

- And?
- Just once, in a hotel,

which we realised was probably a mistake.

- Do you know, you can be so...
- Pre-emptive? Yeah, well.

That was the problem.

Hey, heard about that guy
who banged you and did a runner.

- Excuse me?!
- Scene-shifters were laughing about it today.

Well, I don't find the idea of a young lady
being humped and dumped comical.

Mr Vernon Spools needs a lesson in manners.

- Well, thank you for your concern, um...
- Kenny.

Kenny. Thank you. Goodnight.

What was it they taught me in the Boy Scouts?

Practice makes perfect.

Boy Scouts?
That must take you back all of ten years.

Why do I feel like an old lady?

Because you don't see
that when we're together, time has no meaning.

I'm the key that unlocks your most private door.

This is necrophilia.

There are too many noughts
riding on this picture for me to abort.

Plus, we have to be
out of this house by next week.

I just feel Carla and Jonathan
can add fresh energy to the enquiry.

Say a couple of hours to sniff around?

Only, you might not want to go sniffing
too close to Mr Peterman right now.

Not one of his better days.

And if you're thinking of checking out the study,
be sure to clear it with Inspector Bullstrode.

I'll have a shufti around the window,
you see what you can get out of Mr Superhunk.

Oh, right. And how am I supposed to do that?
I'm not Maddy Magellan.

I know. It suits you.

I'm an actress in my early '50s.

Still glamorous...

still desirable...

...to young men and to old.

And those who know me well
can see that I am deeply unhappy.

I may be menopausal.

An unhappy love affair?

Like my character in the film,

I decide there's nothing left to live for.

Her death scene...

...will be my death scene.

You think she topped herself?

The arguments are compelling.

She fired a gun at her own chest
from 15 feet away and then made it disappear?

And screwed in a glass panel
and mopped up a puddle,

while she could barely lift her arm?

Sorry. You are?

Just leaving.

Mr Peterman? This won't take long.

Come to put your cream on.
If you wouldn't mind slipping your shirt off.

It's nasty, this goat tick fever.
Wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy.

- What are you talking about?
- Didn't they tell you?

Eight suspected cases in the last 24 hours.
This part of Hampshire's a devil for it.

That's good, no sign of any pustules yet.

But they don't always erupt straight away, so...

Pustules? What is this, some kind
of vector-borne bovine parasitic disorder?

But don't worry, this is really good stuff.
So arms out and I'll try not to tickle.

There's something I need to run past you, Alan.

I'd kinda like your blessing on it.

I've arranged for burial
to take place at Doomdorf.

There's a... little spot up there...

by the loch.

Whenever she came to visit, we'd...

Well... we used to talk
about these things sometimes.

There's no shame in it, Herman.
I know you meant a lot to her too.

(SLURPS)

Oh, this is Raymond. He plays the man
from the world of shadows.

He doesn't speak is the only thing.

Right.

The police already
searched this ivy and found nothing.

Well, sometimes you can search so hard,
you miss the thing you're looking at.

Did you figure out who killed her yet?

Maybe you think it was me?!

One, I'm not that smart. And two...

no motive.

I hear you were right outside when it happened,
so we must presume a silencer was used.

We were making a heck of a lot of noise
and Tom was going cuckoo with that axe.

Tom?

I tell you, I was in the Army three years and you
think there's nothing left that can shock you.

But that look in her eyes...

I mean, she was the most beautiful person.

It's like, this guy I play in the film,
he's got two scenes -

chopping wood and chopping a door down.

- Character consistency, very important.
- Yeah, that's right.

In the script, it's like, I haven't got a name.
It just says "groundsman".

But Miss Brodie said she'd talk to Mr Grole
to see if in the credits I could have a name,

like Jack or something.

Yeah...

That look in her eyes.

It makes you wonder what she'd seen out there.

Do you know what I think is really terrible?

The way the press are trying to drum up
a story about a rift between you and Miss Brodie,

when obviously the two of you were
getting on like a house on fire, would you say?

Right.

Um, right.

OK, that's all done.

What if I get bitten on the balls?

Oh, that's not strictly part of my duties.

Maybe if you just leave that behind,
I'll finish myself off.

(SPLODGING)

"Death awaits you at Doomdorf Castle."
I'm telling you, I could feel his goosebumps.

The thing is, they were all on the wrong side
of the door when it happened.

Everyone we've been talking to
has to be in the clear.

And the way it was raining...

think how dark it would've been out there and
how bright it was in that study with the lamps.

I could be way off.
Maybe she wasn't pointing at anyone

or anything outside that window...

...but at the reflection
of someone standing behind her in the room.

(BAGPIPES: "AMAZING GRACE")

This is a joke, right? What is she doing here?

Miss Borrego?

Looks after my interests here in the UK.

- I don't like the tactics she used to question me.
- Excuse me just for a second.

What's this? Where did you get those?

If you show those to anyone, I swear to God I'll...

What was that all about?

Where did you get hold of these?

- Is he?
- Don't say it!

How Bronson deals with the stresses
of stardom is up to him.

I was just confirming they're not pictures
his fans would want to see posted on the Net.

Vivian and I shared a long-standing passion
for the verse of Edgar Allan Poe.

Today, as her soul is reclaimed
by the country that gave her life,

his lines have never seemed more eloquent.

"'Prophet,' said I, 'Thing of evil!

"'Prophet still if bird or devil!"'

What is your problem? Did I kill her?
You got something to say, say it.

- I wouldn't want to intrude on your grief.
- What does that mean?

That you couldn't give a damn that she's dead.

Come on. That's not the reason
we came here today, remember?

As long as you're all on my turf tonight,
let's find some common ground.

Thank you.

(CARLA) When did you last sleep
in a place with a moat?

(JONATHAN)
I once passed out by a blocked urinal.

- It's not really the same.
- Not really.

(JONATHAN) I suppose this is what 30 years
at the top in Hollywood buys you.

(CLANGING)

Time to make a move. Grub's up, apparently.

Thank you. Very much.

Did you ever hear of knocking?

You just going to stand there while I get ready?!

You'll do.

I can see how it's a knack you'd have,
making women disappear.

Not something you'd have to work at.

Like your mailed fist approach
to negotiating, you mean?

People talk tough to me, I talk tough to them.
Because tough gets results.

In business, in life generally.

This anklet has still got your muck on it?

When I think what it cost me.

Anklet? Are you Barbara Stanwyck?

This is a traumatic time for all of us.

Somebody has done a terrible thing
to somebody we all cared for,

but we have to believe
that fate is ultimately just,

and, one day,
the guilty will pay for their crimes.

I'm going to ask Alan now, as a man
with deep convictions in the Lutheran faith,

to say a few words of grace.

Lord, we are but miserable sinners in your sight,

but we praise your name, Lord,
and thank you for these bounteous gifts...

When he said someone's done a terrible thing,

I couldn't help feeling
he meant someone in this room.

Know what I'd do with this place, Herm,
if I bought it, which maybe I will?

Open the whole thing up, you know?
Blow out the cobwebs.

I mean, how old would a joint like this be?
I'm guessing pre-Dickensian, right?

See, just rip out these columns here,

dig up the floor, and you've got yourself
a 200-foot heated pool in here.

Maybe a cocktail bar all along this side,

- Hawaiian-style or whatever.
- See the kind of moron we have to work with?

- Excuse me?
- "Pre-Dickensian"?

Look around. It wasn't built yesterday.

What do you take, dumb pills?

Yeah? Well, maybe I know more than you think.

Like how that stunt with the window
was pulled off, for one thing.

This'll be good.

That panel inside, right?

OK, the frame was fixed solid,

but what if the glass slides up and down
into some kind of cavity in the ceiling?

Then all the killer has to do
is just wedge the thing open

while he takes aim...

What is this, a fire drill?

I'm afraid the staff don't care
to stay on the premises after dark.

They believe certain parts
of the castle to be... possessed.

Fear and superstition
have always been rife around here,

but maybe there is something to the legend.

- Who can say?
- Legend?

In the mid-1500s,

during the Counter-Reformation,

the Catholic Queen Mary began a reign of terror

to realign the church with Rome.

To make an example of certain dissenters,

she had them brought here
to a dungeon deep beneath the castle,

where, it is said,

any Protestant
would be delivered straight to hell.

According to the story...

the victims were staked out
on the floor of a sheer stone well...

and the door above them locked and bolted.

When it was opened again,
just a few minutes later,

nothing remained of the body

except a few small piles of ash...

leading to the belief
that the well was some kind of passageway

to the fires of damnation.

This is, supposedly,
a contemporary account by a Protestant bishop

who lost his own wife down there.

Alan, your eyes are, I think,
a little better than mine. Would you?

"You will just say I dream these things,
but trust me, I do not.

"What wits I had were sorely tested
by the horror laid before me.

"One minute was she there in flesh and blood,

"the next she was to leave this world,
extinguished without trace.

"Try looking as I might throughout
the chamber's every crack and crevice,

"no other means of entrance
or concealment could I find.

"That which I witnessed was,
I think I may beyond a doubt aver,

"something infernal, the Devil's hand at work."

(HE WHIMPERS)

That was probably carrying
some rare form of medieval pestilence, right?

Maybe I'll take the tour another time.

Wanna go see if he's OK?

So, what do we think
about what he said up there?

There was something dodgy about the glass?

Nice in theory, but fails the audience inspection.

Remember, the police went over
every square inch of that room.

The way that ivy was suckered
to the frame outside,

I'm afraid there's no way that window
had been opened in the last five months.

Maid's day off?

I've been down here
more times than is good for me

but right up these walls, all the way to the top,
I've never found so much as a loose brick

or an opening of any kind.

Except for that one small hole up there,
which looks as if it was...

...I don't know, maybe a flue
or something for the smoke.

Satan's Chimney.

We're not swallowing all that stuff
about spontaneous combustion, surely?

But if you want to
lock someone away to rot, this is the place.

- No one'd get out of here in a million years.
- Careful, Jodee.

Remember, you just happen to be standing
next to the world's greatest living escape artist.

Hey, right! 'Cause, how does it go?

You'll pay a million dollars in cash...

...to the first person who comes up with a room
or a device or contraption he can't get out of.

Well, that's always been the challenge,
but I'm afraid no one ever got rich from me yet.

Yeah, except this is real
"The Pit and the Pendulum" time, right?

And I tell you, once I get
into fantasy role-play, I show no mercy.

You'd have to be mad.

The pulls and ratchets
in those cuffs'd be rusted to buggery.

What the hell?

You realise, as a Protestant,
I may need the emergency sprinkler system.

Let's do it.

(ROCK MUSIC)

♪ I do everything on my own... ♪

Fifteen minutes.

It was just for fun.
I don't want to take his money.

Come on. He could be in trouble.

Hey, cool!

That is so awesome!

I mean, how did he get hold of this thing,
anyhow? Can you figure that?

And how does this trick end, exactly? He's going
to be sitting on an elephant in the library?

To be honest,
I haven't known him long, so I don't...

(PHONE RINGS)

- Hello.
- Do not try looking for me.

Alan! Where the hell?

Just say I had to leave.

I think I may be onto something.

- Trust me.
- (PHONE CUTS OUT)

Yeah, right... Well, no, you can't let them down.

Yeah, I will... Bye.

In the middle of it all, he suddenly remembered
somewhere he has to be tomorrow. So...

- He sends his apologies but he had to shoot off.
- Man of mystery, right?

Well, I guess I'll see you all in the morning.
Don't have nightmares.

Let me guess.

We're standing directly
over the top of the dungeon,

the location of which
you've managed to calculate

by memorising exactly how far we walked, and
in which direction, to get down there last night.

32 paces from the foot of the steps,

then another 67 at 90 degrees to the left,

which should put the epicentre... just here.

So where did that so-called chimney go?

Blocked up at some point over the years?

I mean, I have absolutely
no idea how he got out of there,

short of a secret passageway none of us knew of.

The people who built this place
had to be a lot cleverer than that.

So clever we still can't see it.

Also, what was he doing
between the time he got out of there...

...and when he drove out of the castle
at 3.35 in the morning?

You're joking. What, you saw him go?

The drawbridge, which was closed
when I went to bed, was now down.

How would he have got
this thing to work anyway?

He said on the phone he was onto something.
I wonder what that could've been.

And, more importantly,
why couldn't he tell us anything about it?

So, what's happening?

You guys gonna stick around
for a few more days?

I was thinking we could
throw a few ideas around...

(GASP)

Maybe you shouldn't be up.

Maybe I shouldn't.

- What's up with him?
- Black Death? Bubonic plague?

I'm not sure he's decided.

Remember, we've had three months
of his obsessive-compulsive behaviour.

He'll probably go to bed now
for a couple of days... Ow!

- God! Ow!
- What is it?

I don't know. Something's just bit me,
I think. Can you see anything?

- God, that hurt.
- Only where you've just scratched it.

A wasp or something, perhaps.

(I tell you, there's some weird things
around this place.)

Hey, look... Do you want to come upstairs?
I got something to show you.

Everyone knew she kept a diary.

I figured it could hold the key
to why she was murdered, so...

So you passed it straight on
to the police as vital evidence?

Yeah, right (!)

But look what's strange.

You open the folder marked "Diary".

You got a sub-folder, "Diary",
which can't be opened without a password,

but you've also got a file called "Password"
which contains... a password.

"66YEAR".

So we type in "66YEAR".

And, bingo. It doesn't work.

Since it'd be pointless to store a password
next to the file it's meant to protect.

Right, so I figure
obviously it's not the password,

it's a reminder of the password.

'Cause, you know, she was over 50.

Practically senile.

So I'm, like, "66YEAR", what is that?

The year of 1966?
Maybe something happened then.

Stumper.

Have you tried sixty-six in words?

Or "six six".

Or how about...

..."sixty six" without the hyphen?

(ERROR BEEP)

No.

I guess this is gonna take a while.

Do you fancy a walk?

(CARLA) Imagination?
I know a grope when I feel one.

After parking her bottom on your privates,
she's coming onto me as well.

If her face had got any closer,
it would've been a skin graft!

Well, she's young.
Probably still defining her own sexuality.

Suppose that sort of thing turns you on, does it?

Two women?

- You what?
- Or a little ménage à trois, even better.

That would be like 3-D chess for you,
wouldn't it?

Working out all the permutations.
Planning eight moves ahead.

That's why she wanted to get into her diary.

Sorry?

Suppose she had a thing for Vivian Brodie?
Now she wants to find out how she felt about her.

Dunno. There's something very odd going on,

things that don't gel, and I can't say why.

Like that manuscript he read out. Why do I
get the feeling all the words in it were wrong?

Someone's playing a very elaborate game,

and until we know who,
we'd better watch our backs.

And keep that password to ourselves.

I know what you mean.
I definitely get the feel...

I'm sorry, did I miss something?

66YEAR? Oh, come on, it's not rocket science.

You got halfway there when you
were talking about the numbers as words.

Try thinking about the numbers as letters.

Roman numerals for six are?

- VI.
- And how's your French for year?

"Année". Or "an".

Go with "an".

V-l-V-l-A-N. Oh!

How extremely boring.

You'd think she'd have come up with something
more imaginative than her own na... ARGHH!

Jonathan!

(RADIO) Deceased's vehicle found
abandoned at the mouth of Drumcreekie Bridge,

some 500 metres upstream.

We're checking now,
but there appears to be no sign of violence.

Fallen?! How could he possibly have fallen?

Well, no doubt the police will make
a complete investigation in due course.

I'm truly sorry.

I don't know what more I can say.

He'd found something out, we know that.

And now he's paid the price. With his life.

Someone was getting worried
that he knew too mu...

Excuse me, can I bring you back
to the 21st century briefly?

How is that thing going to help us?

There's just something strange
about the way it's written,

even for the 16th century.

As if...

I don't know,
there's another layer to it somewhere.

Brain's all fogged up. I need something easier.

Time to hack into that diary.
See where that leads to.

And as we can trust absolutely no one,

you're going to have to keep her
fully occupied while I'm in there.

Oh, really? And how do you propose I do that?

No way on earth. No.

No. Absolutely no. No!

So, do you think it was an accident?

Seems highly unlikely to me, I would say.

Not that I claim to be
an authority on these matters -

on falling off bridges, or plummeting
from parapets of any kind, really.

What a cute chain. I never noticed it before.

I'm making you uncomfortable.
Listen, I'd better go shower.

Oh, no. Um...

Who's uncomfortable?

Hey. See you later, OK?

I am going to need so much therapy.

I started trying to think about food.

Red meat, raw steaks.

And then I found
I was thinking about spare ribs.

And then those little Yorkshire puddings.

Oh, my God!

What does this mean?

We know why Vivian Brodie was killed.

You're not serious. Why?

Because a barbarous myth persists that the
taking of one life justifies the taking of another,

and too many people in this world
want to play God.

Hang on.

You're saying it was an act of revenge?

This is silly.

For a murder she'd committed?
I don't believe she was capable.

Oh, I think she was capable. In every sense.

Organising her life, her career priorities. Even
if it meant taking some very tough decisions.

Decisions only a woman can take.

I had to skim a bit, but she mentions
a termination in the late '80s,

which was obviously never acknowledged.

Even to the father.

Yes, I'm sorry,

you don't have to look far
to find someone with a divine mandate to kill.

Someone from a right-wing,
fundamentalist church

who, I'm afraid, was a lot more dangerous
than we gave him credit for.

When he met her
for that meal that night, she found out...

just how much he knew.

What is this?

This is private medical...
How did you get hold of this?

Happily, there are many people out there with
power and influence sympathetic to our cause.

Your cause? Bible-punching bigots
who go around blowing up cars and clinics.

This was our child, Vivian.

A sacred human being
you slaughtered in the womb.

God will judge you for your deed,
I can promise you, and He will not be lenient.

But Alan was with us
all day at the theatre when it happened.

As he'd always planned to be.
Despite what you told me.

To give himself an impregnable alibi.

And yet he knew, somehow,
exactly what was going to happen.

Remember when
you came in with that message?

Alan, it's Vivian.

Anyone else would've thought
it was Vivian on the phone.

But what did he say?

In God's name, what's happened to her?

Alan Kalanak.

I may have to lie down.

Still can't get my head
around those gaps, though.

Why leave a load of blank spaces
like that between entries?

We can't just sit on this.
We have to tell the police.

(JONATHAN) Talking of which...

The facts, I'm afraid, are pretty clear.

Here is a man who learns, after many years,

that his former wife
had aborted the life of their unborn child.

"An eye for an eye," the Bible says.

And so he puts to use
his formidable skills as a master magician

to commit the perfect murder.

Time passes,

perhaps he defers to God and his conscience.

Or is he aware that evidence exists
which may yet convict him?

In the end, could any jail
have ever held him? We'll never know.

For, having left the castle last night,
he drives to the Dumcreekie Bridge

and conducts another summary execution.

This time his own.

Sorry, Inspector,

I'm still vague on how he made a bullet
pass through a glass window

from the stage of a theatre 50 miles away.
Or how he got out of an underground chamber

which you've examined yourself -
and the passageway leading up to it -

and found to be solid stone.

I freely admit, Mr Creek, that he's probably
taken those secrets to the grave.

Whether it would profit me
to try and disinter them is doubtful.

But I'm sure this will be
the subject of much lively debate

amongst your fellow conjurers
for years to come.

If you'll excuse me.

Look, I'm sorry if it seems we didn't trust you.

Well, I guess that's us done here, then.

I guess.

(VIVIAN) God, I'm out of condition.

Whereas you,
Mr Janus, have nothing to be ashamed of.

What was it they taught me in the Boy Scouts?
Practice makes perfect.

Boy Scouts.
That must take you back all of ten years.

Why do I feel like an old lady?

Because you don't see that, when we're together,

time has no meaning.

I am the key that unlocks your most private door.

You see, Jonathan. What actually happens
in front of the camera is of little consequence.

By reconfiguring,
reinflecting the words and pictures,

we create our own unique form of illusion,

every bit as false,
every bit as compelling as your own.

- I just came to say goodbye.
- This will all have come as quite a shock to you.

I know you and he had plans. I'm sorry.

Not sorry enough to mourn his death, I suspect.

(SILENT)

Bronson? Mr Peterman?

Are you OK in there?

Go away.

Oh... Well, I...

Poor man was scared out of his wits,
that was obvious.

But of what and who?

(CARLA) I get the feeling
we've barely scratched the surface here,

which is probably
a very good reason to be leaving.

- What?
- When I saw him drive out that night...

But of course I didn't, did I?

I saw his car. I saw him.

Now it's glaring.

He must've had a mic somewhere.

Is this something you'd like to share?

When he rang me on the mobile,
what were his exact words?

"Do not try looking for me.
Just say I had to leave."

- I'll take your word for it.
- Can you stop the car, please?

Do not...

...try looking...

...for me.

Just say I...

...had... to leave.

I think I may be onto...

...something.

Trust me.

Don't you see what he did? Grole?

He mocked this up so when Kalanak
read it out, he could record it,

and in his words "reconfigure it" in his cutting
room and play it back to me on the phone.

Yes... For any particular reason?

And Kalanak's car,
you'd think I'd remember it was left-hand drive.

So?

So, when I thought I saw him behind
the wheel at 3.30 in the morning,

what I actually saw
was him sitting in the passenger seat.

I'm sorry, I'm getting dangerously baffled now.
What exactly does all this add up to?

What it adds up to
is one single, fairly pivotal conclusion.

Alan Kalanak never left
that underground chamber alive.

I suppose it would be terribly naïve
to ask what we're looking for?

That most elusive commodity -

inspiration.

Sometimes all you can do
is try and create the right conditions and wait.

I don't know, a conceptual spark
that'll get everything going.

Why do I get the feeling Satan's Chimney
was never designed as a chimney?

Maybe they used to pour
some kind of acid down it.

Acid would hang around.

And you'd need a lot to dissolve a body.

But it'd be in keeping with this theme
of Edgar Allan Poe that colours proceedings.

- Hang on.
- Conceptual spark?

I was thinking about when she sat on my lap.

Well, can you stop thinking about it?
It's cramped enough down here.

She thought she'd been stung.
Of course there was no wasp in that room.

Stay put for a sec.

- On no account go down there.
- Where are you going?

To check out a little hypothesis
concerning that drawbridge.

Hold on.

(SCREAMS)

(JONATHAN) Not hard to see
why it put the fear of God up them back then.

As an early Tudor conjuring trick,

chillingly effective.

The secret to how it worked, I imagine,
would be well-documented in the castle archives.

Not too hard to ferret out for a new owner with
more than a passing interest in Gothic folklore.

The operation has a symmetrical elegance
that you of all people would admire.

The chains that control the drawbridge
control also a false ceiling to the cell.

(JONATHAN) So when the bridge goes up,
a massive counterweighted slab comes down.

And vice versa.

The weakest feature, ironically,
was the opening.

Blocked off on top of the slab
to look like the floor.

In the real ceiling, the only way
they could get the chains in and out.

So they cooked up that stuff
about a flue for the smoke.

Chains in those days, I'm guessing,
would've been tied on with rope,

probably rigged to burn off
before anyone came in.

Piles of ash, fires of hell.
It made for a nice mythic dovetail.

The automatic uncoupling
was a little refinement of your own,

like that slightly clunky
sound recording you got him to make.

You will just say I dream these things,
but trust me, I do not...

(JONATHAN) Swift re-edit after dinner,

it's all ready to be played back to me later on,

to seal the idea that he escaped.

Look, OK. It was Herman's call, all this.

I mean, like a movie, right?

There has to be a single voice.

But this was totally a four-way thing.
Right down the line.

Because... what that man did...

It's like the guy said,

even if they'd put him away...

Houdini.

You did a good job of making us, and Alan,
believe he was above suspicion.

- Got something to say?
- I won't intrude on your grief.

So his guard would be down
when you went for the big one.

But then you knew he'd never refused
a professional challenge in his life.

A chance to show off.

What was he going to do?
Certainly not listen to me.

So the other two have backed off.

They're going to be needed upstairs.

The skeleton's in place.

You've sprung your trap, and it's worked.

He's come up here for a funeral.
No one's told him it's his own.

(HE YELLS)

(PHONE RINGS)

- Hello?
- Do not try looking for me.

Just say I had to leave.

I think I may be onto something.

Trust me.

In the early hours,
Kalanak and his car are taken to the bridge.

A taller driver, I might've had a flash
of what was really going on.

But maybe Raymond wasn't the first choice
to drive the car that night.

Yeah, absolutely.

Better to be on the inside pissing out, right?

You bet I had a problem. With all this?

What do you take me for?

Not exactly a willing accomplice, at any rate.

The whole thing left you literally sickened.

Maybe you'd never have sent
that note to Kalanak.

Bottom line, you were in two minds
about the whole operation.

He got what he deserved,
but did you want to be part of it?

And that whole thing with her diary,

you knew what was in it, you just
didn't want us to find it till you were ready.

So you hung on to that laptop,
invented a not-very-baffling password,

so his motive would come out
just too late for him to be arrested.

By the time the police realise he's guilty,
he's jumped off a bridge.

- How much deeper are they gonna dig?
- Goes the theory.

But then again, what do we know?

- That what we did was right.
- Oh, you think?

Maybe it was no different to what he did.

Maybe...

Maybe no different to what she did.

'Cause, you know...

I don't know any more.

Murderers and executioners?

You tell me what's the difference.

OK. Here's another question.

What is the most evil crime a man can commit?

Think on it.

And when you're wondering
where you go from here, remember,

the guilty aren't always those that kill.

Understand that, and you'll understand
why Alan Kalanak's soul

rightly belongs in hell.

Well, it's been an adventure, would you say?

As for your baroque mind,

to twig that whole contraption
from an imaginary wasp...

The image was right there
in front of me on that tray.

The caffetière.

She knew it might give the game away,
so she panicked and caused a diversion.

- Right. I suppose you wouldn't?
- What?

No, obviously... Coffee.

Well. Long way to go still.

- Back to that windmill?
- Yeah.

- Makes no sense at all.
- Wouldn't mind using your... toilet.

It's just up there at the end.

Hi. Is this creepy, or what?

Just came by to tell you the good news
and, bugger me, your taxi pulls up.

I think it's meant to be.

How did you get?

Picking a lock's like satisfying a woman.

And they're all different.
The way Mr Klaus explained...

Shut up and clear off before I call the...

- What good news?
- Your little friend Vernon Spools.

Wasn't hard to find him in the Yellow Pages.
I paid him a call at the family betting shop.

Let's just say he'll see
the New Year in in a wheelchair.

I said, "You so much as phone Carla Borrego..."

You did what?!

But that number he gave me,
they'd never even heard of anyone called Ver...

I've got a lot to offer, Carla...

if you'll let me be part of your life.

Get out!

So maybe if I give you a ring, yeah?

All right.

You can see why America beckoned.

Even though, deep down,
I suppose I knew it was never gonna work out.

So. Still think I overcharged you?
I mean, how good can a magician get?

He pulled off a murder so impossible
we'll never know how it was done.

What was it Grole said?

The guilty aren't always those that kill.

He wants us to see Kalanak's death
as an act of justice.

Or did he mean something else?

Kalanak wasn't there in person on that day.
What are we left with?

Either he planted some kind of device,
which we know was never found,

or what if he set someone up to do it for him?

The look on her face
when she was pointing at the window,

it was almost... I don't know.

What?

Not like she was pointing at all,

so much as trying to reach out to someone.

Now what?

We know it was Grole who put in that password.

She didn't use one,
at least not for the stuff we've read so far.

But what if there were other things,
even more personal and sensitive,

that she found some way of hiding from us?

Remember all those blank spaces in the text?

Oh, right. Like she's written it in invisible ink (?)

You know, that was a really hideous thing
you put me through on that garden seat.

I can still taste the cinnamon.

What really worries me is I might've enjoyed it.

Invisible ink may not be such a silly idea.

I mean, what if I found
a man couldn't do it for me any more?

Why don't we put it to the test?

If you wanted to write something invisible,

you'd make the text
the same colour as the background.

In which case, if we try highlighting it...

Yes!

Now, just switch the font
from white back to black...

Oh, what have you found?

What appears to be
the final missing piece of the jigsaw.

And when you think of it, the only person

who could possibly have made it look
like a bullet passed through the window.

10.15 and no lights on.
We can assume it's empty.

Can I see that cast and crew list again,
check it's the right address?

Funny how it's one detail sometimes
that completely fools you.

That whole thing about the distance
the gun was fired from was never important.

If we must look for evidence,
let's get on with it.

(DOG BARKS)

- Could we have the light on possibly?
- Just give me a second to find a switch.

- What you doing?
- Tom. You are in.

We were just passing, and...

Just got back from the funeral, actually.
It all went very well.

He said I'd be safe,
the police would never find out.

- And you've come to arrest me.
- Do we look like police officers?

Got any ID that shows you're not?

You have to hear my side, right?

That's the law, hear both sides.

OK. OK.

Someone called it, what was it?
Like a fantasy world.

Dave Cody, remember, out in Drumcree.

- Said I was soft in the head and...
- Squaddies.

What are they like? All mouth.

They couldn't see what I could see.

As long as I could remember,
I never wanted anything else.

Just to be next to her.

That's why I had to get that part.

'Cause, I mean, that was like fate, right?

Put me right there, next to her.

I never dared to hope
something like that would happen.

- Hi, Tom.
- Would you mind signing this?

Of course not. Come in.

(MUFFLED CONVERSATION)

I believed it, you know,

when she told me I was the most special
person to her in the whole world.

When really you know what I was to her?

Nothing.

A game.

She could have had all of me, body and soul.
But she didn't want to soil her hands.

Well, I could make her suffer just the same.

Why shouldn't she?

So, then what happens?

She goes and tells
her ex-husband what I've done.

Big American magician, comes to see me.

Maybe she wanted him to straighten me out.

Maybe she should've kept her mouth shut.

Turns out we both had a score to settle.

Think you're the first she's hung out to dry?
It's a sport with her. That's why we split up.

It's about power and control.
Making you beg. Grinding you under her heel.

But we can make her pay for this, Tom.
Make her pay for this!

And suddenly, it's there in his head, this idea.

How we could use my part in the film.

Very good, Tom. Very good.

Nice and slow.
Nice and slow, that's it. Ease it in.

That's right, Tom. Just ease it in.
Now we can set up a nice clean view.

Just take your time. Ease that bullet in.

Took us less than a day, working together.
And it was ready.

Bam. Hey presto.

Hey presto!

That's it, Tom. You got it.

And afterwards...

You don't think about afterwards.

How I'd feel.

Just felt sick.

And Mr Grole. Don't ask me how,
straight away he knew it was me.

And just tells me not to worry. Just go away
and keep quiet. He'll do what's necessary.

Like he's got it all worked out.

Dunno what...

Well, whatever Herman Grole did,
he did for one reason.

Because he knew the last thing
Vivian Brodie would've wanted

was for you to go down.

'Cause when she said you were
the most special person in the world,

there was more truth to that
than you could ever know.

We should've got an inkling
from all that time she took off in the '70s.

How old are you now, Tom?

- 28, 29?
- What?

How do you know what she felt about anything?

We know because she left a fairly detailed
confessional account behind.

Some of it so personal,
it's only this second come to light.

We only now have a complete picture
of what happened at that meal.

This was our child, Vivian. A sacred
human being you slaughtered in the womb.

How could I expect you to understand?

OK. You want to know why?

Because...

...I forfeited the right, 28 years ago,
to become a mother ever again.

Oh, God. I'd barely become an adult.

But, hey, it was the movies. That's what you did.

Name the father?
I couldn't tell you what country he lived in.

So, what happened?

Six months later, I realise that I can't cope.

I don't want to cope. Let someone else cope!

Kids are adopted every day, they survive.
And now...

if you're wondering whatever became of him...

...this is what became of him.

Because I was mad enough
to engage him on this picture.

Too stupid not to slam the door in his face.

And then, too weak...

not to show him how much I loved him.

Now he just wants to kill me.

And can I honestly blame him?

The most evil crime a man can commit?

Poisoning a son's mind,

inciting him to murder his own mother,

has to come pretty close.

If there was anyone she'd confide in,
it was her oldest friend in the business.

- Are we all set for rehearsal?
- Give me ten.

I don't know where to start, but...

it goes back to the '70s, when...

(HERMAN) What happened? Who did this?

No. No way. No.

It's not true.

Say it! None of it's true.

- None of it's true.
- You're lying.

- Yes.
- Which?

- Whatever! Lying!
- You're dead!

- Tom!
- He's so dead. Think I care any more?

Yes, Tom. Just one quick word.

This is so horrible, I know...

what's happened, and...

obviously killing Jonathan
makes perfect sense now, I can see that.

All I would say is that...

The thing is...

The thing...

is that...

Who's going to look after his dog?

Not me, you see. I'm far too busy, and...

That poor little Scotty, bless him, you know...

will just lose the will to live.

He'll just curl up on the floor,
probably, and die, so...

- It's all bollocks.
- It is bollocks, Tom.

And, of course, life is bollocks really, isn't it?

But sadly, it's all we've got, so...

...best to just make the most of it.

Perhaps we'll just go now, Jonathan.
Whenever you're ready.

- What happened to "tough gets results"?
- It didn't seem appropriate.

OK, so you're Celeste?

If you could tuck yourself up nice and tight.
We're looking for maximum compression.

We agreed to junk this?
Two bodies in the cage, it won't fly.

Did we? I don't remember.

Elasticity of the thigh muscles,
my sweetheart. Very important.

Next we have... Yolanda, is it?

How pliant can you make that pelvis?

Kenny's late in this morning.

Didn't you hear? I had to let him go.
He was sexually harassing one of the PAs.

He was doing that trick of mine,
got his watch strap caught in her bra.

When Security arrived, he had his head
up her shirt, trying to bite the thing off.

Ladies, if you'll just hold that thought
while I make a record of your details.

Great. Looking good.

Carla.

Before you say it, Jonathan, you needn't say it.

Clearly I was expecting too much, but I
thought you might've bothered to ring me.

It must've been obvious I wanted you to.
Your astute mind must've figured that one out.

And don't pretend I'm so repellent.

Because, I mean, I'm bright,
fun to be with and well up to your speed.

Plus, I did actually save your life,
if you remember.

It wouldn't have killed you to get in touch,
just to see how I was.

After everything we went through together.

It only happened last night.

It's only twelve o'clock now.
I thought you'd be glad of some rest.

Yes.

Well. That's the other thing.

I'm also deeply insecure, emotionally
vulnerable and prone to irrational outbursts.

Now you know the whole picture, it's up to you
whether you want to see me again or not.

OK, let's say tonight,
have a bite to eat or something.

I'll let you know if I'm free.

You know, he offered me a job, Kalanak.
I was that close to a new career.

Yes, but think how you would have felt, working
for a moral deviant, ideologically deranged,

with no scruples of any kind.

You get used to it.

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