Original subtitles

"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."

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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.

# 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...

- 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.

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...

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.

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?

No.

I guess this is gonna take a while.

Do you fancy a walk?

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 m�nage � 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?

"Ann�e". 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!

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.

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.

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.

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?

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 na�ve 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.

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.

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...

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.

- 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 caffeti�re.

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.

- 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.

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...

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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