All language subtitles for Professor T - S01E06 - The Dutiful Child.en

BASSY CLUB MUSIC.

READING TO HIMSELF.

Biotech. Their succession
of policy initiatives,

their design to build closer
links between education

and industry and promote
biomedical research...

They're ready for you, sir.

Great. Shall we?

LIFT PINGS.

APPLAUSE.

Ladies and gentlemen. Nice
to see you all, folks.

You guys always seem to come
out when there's free champagne.

All right, so, this
speech will be very...

GUNSHOT.

BIKE ENGINE REVS, TYRES SQUEAL.

Are you OK? Yeah.

Oh, my God.

BUSY CHATTER.

Paul, what are you doing here?

I thought you weren't
due back till tomorrow?

No time like the present. I
picked it up on the scanner.

A shooting at the
Cambridge Science Park?

Not exactly The Bronx, is
it? So what have we got?

Drive-by, single
shot, single shooter.

And do we know the target?
This is James Samson's company.

Have I heard of him?

If not, you soon will have.

You look, er... better.

I feel it, although I don't
want to get ahead of myself.

One day at a time.

Something like that.
Where's Winters?

Running late.

By the way, she's his
wife, not his daughter.

Thanks for the
heads-up. Welcome.

Mr Samson? Mrs Samson. This
is Detective Inspector Rabbit.

Are we interrupting your day
off, Detective Inspector Rabbit?

Not exactly.

Look, I don't mean to be rude,
but is this gonna take long?

I have a press conference on
hold. James, you're not serious?

Respectfully, sir, I think you may
need to reconsider your priorities.

DISTANT SIRENS.

We'll see. In the meantime, perhaps
I can expedite your inquiries?

And how would you do that?

Well, I can say with certainty,
no, I have no idea who did it.

And I can also say that whoever
it is that you're looking for

is an absolutely terribly shot.

My husband's joking.
It's not funny.

This whole farrago has actually
given my wife a bit of a fright.

That may well have been the
perpetrator's intention.

How do you mean?

Whoever did this may be more
intent on scaring than harming you.

Do you think it might have anything
to do with your announcement?

Because it would seem a funny way
to thank you for your largesse.

We are pioneers in embryonic
stem cell research,

there's no end of whack jobs

that just think I'm
the spawn of the devil.

KNOCK AT DOOR I'm going.

Ah, we are just finishing
up here, reschedule for 12.

You're unbelievable.

The press conference has been
cancelled, everyone's going home.

No! Bugger it!

My God, are you OK?

This is my younger boy, Freddie,

and the charmer over there in the
doorway is Henry, my older son.

I told you the interview
was a bad idea, Dad.

Yeah, we all did. What
interview is that?

Weekend Business Magazine.

If your budget won't
stretch to a copy,

I'll have my office, you know,

ping one over. That
won't be necessary.

I think you'll find it
raises loads more questions,

but in the meantime, unless
there's anything else?

DISTANT SIREN.

Thank you, Mr
Samson, Mrs Samson.

LIFT PINGS, NEARBY SIREN WAILS.

Someone's in a hurry. Not
exactly happy families, was it?

He's back! You look... better.

Did you two work on that
together? Here's a bullet casing.

Better get that back to the lab.

Hey, I missed you first thing.

I overslept. Unlike you, Dan.

How was last night?

Not now, Lisa, it's not a good
idea to mix work with pleasure.

MUSIC: 'Piccolissima
Serenata' by Jula De Palma

♪ Mi faro prestare
Un soldino di sole

♪ Perche regalare lo voglio a te

♪ Lo potrai posare
Sui biondi capelli

♪ Quella nube d'oro accarezzero

♪ Questa piccolissima serenata

♪ Con un fil di
voce si puo cantar

♪ Ogni innamorato all'innamorata

♪ La sussurrera, la sussurrera

♪ Mi faro prestare
Un soldino di mare

♪ Perche regalare Lo voglio a te

♪ Lo potrai posare... ♪
MUSIC ECHOES

♪ Nel tuo sguardo azzurro mi tuffero
Questa piccolissima serenata. ♪

SINISTER MUSIC BLENDS
IN, SONG FADES.

BLOWER WHEEZES.

I've cancelled your
9am, professor. Ah.

I know you don't
like birthday cakes,

so I bought you a
doughnut instead.

POP Whoa!

DONCKERS: We've
recovered the motorbike.

False plates

and the vehicle identification
number's been filed off.

Nothing reported stolen in the area
that matches its make or model.

Anybody see our shooter dump
it? No, it's a wasteland.

No cameras or buildings overlooking.
And no sign of the weapon.

So what else?

Well, we're convinced James
Samson was the target.

Bit of a Branson figure,
endurance racing, skydiving,

that kind of thing.

Worth a billion quid, give or
take. I'll take if he's giving.

He's no stranger to controversy.

I can see that.

Maybe it was a pro-life activist
firing a shot across his bows?

What does the professor think?

Tempest?

Have you put a whole load more
on the payroll in my absence?

CHUCKLING.

SOULFUL STRING MUSIC.

BLOWER WHEEZES.

Please.

I've got something for you.

James Samson? Yes, I
thought you might know him.

As a matter of fact, I do.

My father was friends
with his business partner.

Oh, didn't know he had one.

Aaron Bell.

More of a drinking
companion, actually.

Of James Samson? Of my father.

Did they have a falling out,
Samson and this Bell character?

You could say that.

Enough for Mr Bell
to wanna shoot him?

I doubt it. Aaron Bell has been
dead for more than a decade.

Well, I don't suppose you know

anything about stem
cell research, do you?

Not a great deal, though neither
does James Samson by all accounts.

It was Bell's brilliance
that made his millions.

We're trying to work out
who would want to shoot him.

SAMSON, ON VIDEO: 'That's
why, today, I'm announcing

'that I'm signing
the Giving Pledge,

'which commits me to giving away
the vast majority of my fortune

'to deserving causes between
now and the time of my death.'

How do you know about this?

James Samson is something of a
bete noire in university circles.

Why's that?

Academics are somewhat prone to
professional jealousy, it seems,

especially former colleagues.

Looks like they've got
plenty to be jealous about.

So glad you're here.

Mrs Samson, this is Professor
Tempest and DS Winters.

Hello. I really need you to
talk some sense into James.

He seems to be treating the
whole thing like a bit of a joke.

I know. I begged him to take it
seriously, but he just won't listen.

I even told him to hire
a bodyguard, but...

GUNSHOT.

Pull.

GUNSHOT.

Mr Samson. Ah.

Our friends from the police.
You arrested anyone yet?

We're working on it. Well, I
should bloody well hope so.

DS Winters and
Professor Tempest,

he works with us in
an advisory capacity.

This is my son
Freddie. Adopted son.

No need for the qualifier.

Well, your recent profile
was very specific about it.

Son will suffice.

Freddie's a bit of a
whizz with the numbers,

he's my right hand man, in fact.
Ironic, then, that his right hand

can no longer be tested
for gunpowder residue.

What?

I'm guessing this shooting
party was his idea.

It's OK, Dad.

Oh, help yourselves
to refreshments.

You weren't on site at the shooting
yesterday, were you, Mr Samson?

No. I was driving in
from a breakfast meeting.

Is that business or
pleasure? Pleasure, actually.

Someone who can vouch for you?

Unfortunately not,
I got stood up.

Oh, I know how you feel, mate.

It's just someone I
met on a dating app.

The plan was to take her
to the press conference

if she was up for it,
thought it might impress her

to hear the old man give
away 50 million quid.

But she didn't turn up.

And where was this breakfast
meeting supposed to take place?

The Bird In Hand, just
in the centre of town.

They do a mean fry-up
on the weekdays.

Oh. Bugger it.
We'll look into it.

Really? Is that necessary?

Obviously you don't
seem to think so.

I think you're wasting our time
with impertinent questions.

I'm sorry you think that, sir.

There's clearly some right-wing
crackpot you should be focused on,

not my son. And why would
you advise that, sir?

Because clearly somebody
is out to try and scare me,

and they're wasting their time.

I don't scare easily. Freddie.

Sorry.

Pull. GUNSHOT.

Detective?

Um, my husband, he's not
telling you everything.

Really? What do you mean?

Well, he received an
envelope with a bullet in it.

When was this?

Just a couple of days
before the shooting.

Do you still have it?

No, I told him to go the police,
but he, er... he threw it away.

GUNSHOT.

Thanks for your candour, Mrs
Samson, it's very helpful.

Very helpful indeed.

Nothing to worry about.

SIRENS WAIL.

We're getting nowhere with
this pro-life line of enquiry.

There's just no history of that kind
of activism here, maybe we could...

Start with the family.

The professor thinks this
may suggest a motive.

SAMSON, ON VIDEO:
'That's why, today,

'I'm announcing that I am
signing the Giving Pledge,

'which commits me to giving away
the vast majority of my fortune

'to deserving causes between
now and the time of my death.'

Are his wife and sons
supportive? We'll soon find out.

His wife is genuinely worried.

Unlike her husband,
who's completely blase.

Perhaps he doesn't believe
his life is really at risk.

DCI BRAND: Let's focus
on the sons for now.

I'll check out Freddie's alibi.

You two should speak
to the eldest son,

that relationship
seems strained.

Jasper, are you all right?

I believe so.

It's just, er...
it's your birthday.

It's a difficult day for you.

If you want to talk,
you... you know where I am.

HORSES WHINNY.

Mr Samson. DS Donckers.

I know who you are, any
progress? Not exactly,

we'd like to establish where
you were prior to the shooting.

I was here from
six in the morning,

left at nine twenty to go
to the press conference.

Sam was with me until I left.

And when the shooting occurred?

I was already
inside the building,

there are plenty of my father's
lackeys who can vouch for me.

What were you doing there?
I was a three-line whip.

But you're not employed by your
father, you have your own business.

He wants to play happy families.
And you're not inclined to?

He spent years ignoring his
first family in favour of work,

now he's got a new wife and son

and suddenly he wants
us all to hang out.

You mean, your mother
and you? Just me.

My mother passed
a few years back.

That must have been painful for
you, to see your father marry again.

I had a lucky escape.
What do you mean?

You won't read this in a
magazine, but it's no secret.

She was my girlfriend
when they met. Natasha?

She realised he was a bigger
prize and he got played.

She seems to genuinely
love him. Yeah, right.

Her soulmate just happens to
be a billionaire old enough

to be her father?

So what do you think she feels
about his plan to give it all away?

I can only imagine.
What about you?

I couldn't care less what my
father does with his money.

Some people might find
that hard to believe.

I'm not the gold
digger in this family,

it's my step-mother you should
be talking to, or Alfred Bell.

Your brother?

He's no brother of mine.

Dan.

'Freddie Samson paid for breakfast
with his credit card at nine fifty,

'but it's no distance
to the science park.

'Doesn't rule him out.'

Well, we're heading
back, where are you?

Grabbing lunch at that pub

with a friend.

Who's the friend? DIAL TONE.

He hung up.

Would you mind dropping me
off? I, too, have a lunch date.

Professor. Dark horse.

It's with my mother.
HORSE WHINNIES.

Samson doesn't act like a man with
a death threat hanging over him.

Which is what the professor's
been suggesting all along.

You should take a
break more often.

Maybe it's an insurance scam.
Nah, he doesn't need the money.

What about the angle on Freddie,
have you spoken to him yet?

Dan checked out his alibi,
said it doesn't rule him out.

Well, you'd better bring
him in then, chop-chop.

There you go.

I'm joining Adelaide Tempest.

You're late.

I was unavoidably detained.

Kafka is most discombobulated.
KAFKA WHIMPERS.

What kept you? My police work.

How is it? Suitably diverting.

And Christina?

Suitably diverting, thank you.

I hope you've learned
your lesson there, Jasper.

MUSIC: 'Io Che Non Vivo
Senza Te' by Pino Donaggio

♪ Siamo qui noi soli

♪ Come ogni sera. ♪

Good afternoon.

I'll have the usual,
please, Gustave.

And for monsieur?

He'll have the halibut, lightly
grilled, with a small green salad.

Oh, and a bottle of your lovely
Krug champagne. The 2003, please.

And, er... two glasses?

Why, it's the least
they can do, dear heart.

I spend an absolute
fortune in here.

So, Samson Bell Growth Tech started
life as Bell Samson Associates,

set up by your adoptive
father, James Samson.

'And your biological
father Aaron Bell?'

'That's right.'

'I'm told Aaron was the
scientific brains behind it all.'

Maybe. But he sold out to James?

Yes, in 2003.

For £8 million. It was a
lot of money at the time.

It was. Not when you
consider it was sold

for 1.1 billion just
over a decade later.

Your biological father
committed suicide

not long after that
deal was completed.

Why would you go work for
someone who might be responsible

for your father killing himself?

Dad wasn't to blame
for Aaron's death.

You don't think the financial
betrayal destroyed him?

Alcohol destroyed my
biological father.

Dad tolerated it as
long as he could,

when he couldn't tolerate it any
longer, he paid way over the odds

for Aaron's share of the business,
for what it was worth at the time.

A toast to us.

Oh, darling, I know we never
mention the B-word, or celebrate,

God forbid, but can't we
just raise a glass to us?

For once?

It's a difficult
day for me, too.

INDISTINCT YELLING.

SMACK.

INDISTINCT RAGING.

My biological father was
violent when he'd had a drink.

Dad... protected me from him.

He may have hung
himself, technically,

but the truth is he
drank himself to death.

And James took you under his wing?
He did. I owe him everything.

You even let him adopt you.

He was more of a father to
me than Aaron Bell ever was.

I wanted to acknowledge
my debt to him.

And become heir to his
fortune. I didn't ask for that.

So how do you feel about
him giving it all away?

It's his money, he's already given
me more than I can ever repay.

And how does Henry
feel about it?

And about gaining a
brother? Step-mother too.

You'll have to ask
him about that.

We already have.

DOOR OPENS.

You're late.

I might have to start going
on a few more blind dates

if they all turn
out like this. Hey!

PHONE BUZZES.

Sorry.

Ignore it.

Lisa?

Say again.

OK. Yeah, on my way.

HENRY: This is all your fault.

Mr Samson, I understand that...

You understand nothing!
I'm lodging a complaint.

Oh, Henry, please. Oh,
spare us the fake hysterics.

FRAUGHT MUSIC, CAMERA
SHUTTER CLICKS.

You look like you've
won the lottery.

You look post-coital.

Mrs Samson had a night class.
When she got back, she found this.

What about Mr Samson?

No sign. Penny to the
pound he's dead meat.

Or well on the way.

Have you informed Freddie?

I tried calling him,
but he's not picking up.

Maybe he saw something.
Saw something?

Yeah, he arrived
as I was leaving.

Well, why didn't you say so?

I don't know, he comes
around most evenings.

You'd better go see
if you can find him.

DOOR BELL RINGS, KNOCKING.

Sorry to disturb you
earlier. No worries.

Did I wake you? No,
I was just chilling.

On your own? Just a minute!

A gentleman never tells.

Since when have you
been a gentleman?

I still haven't forgiven you,
but if it carries on like this

I might just have to.

Hey. Is everything OK?

I was in and out in half an
hour. What time was that?

Half past nine. He
was fine when I left.

Unfortunately, Mr Samson, we
only have your word for that.

But I have a text
message from him.

After you left? Absolutely.

I'd forgotten a book
I'd asked to borrow,

he said he'd bring it to me
in the morning. I'll show you.

Bugger it. That's the
third one this month.

Here, can still see the message.

Do you think... he's dead?

We don't know that
at this stage.

Look, is there anyone we can
call to come and be with you?

CHURCH BELLS RING.

There are security
cameras at the house,

they show Freddie Samson
leaving at 9:38pm.

James sent him a text at 9:42pm,

it pinged off a tower
close to the house.

We've done preliminary forensics on
Freddie's car, no traces of blood.

What about Henry?

Worked late, a colleague
was with him the whole time

until the call came
through from Natasha.

What about her?

She has a whole classroom full of
belly dancers who'll vouch for her.

Maybe it's time we revisited
our theory about the activists.

Let's see what Professor
Tempest has to say first, yeah?

MUSIC: 'Oh! Mio Babbino Caro'

♪ O mio babbino caro

♪ Mi piace, e bello bello

♪ Vo' andare in Porta Rossa

♪ A comperar I'anello!

♪ Si, si, ci voglio andare!

♪ E se I'amassi indarno

♪ Andrei...

♪ Sul Ponte Vecchio

♪ Ma per buttarmi in Arno!

♪ Mi struggo e mi tormento!

♪ O Dio, vorrei morir!

♪ Babbo, pieta, pieta!

♪ Babbo, pieta, pieta! ♪

I need to see the blood tests.
We've already checked them.

It's definitely his blood. I
need to check for sedimentation.

OK. Dan? I'll chase them up.

We need to question his wife
about the Giving Pledge.

You don't believe in
true love? Sure I do.

And I still put out
a stocking for Santa.

I don't know what
more to tell you.

Did your husband discuss
his pledge with you

before he announced he would
be giving away his fortune?

Yeah, of course he did.
And you were OK with it?

Why wouldn't I be?

Well, I imagine you stood to
be substantially disinherited.

So you think I married
him for his money?

You know, James changed his
will when we got married

because I asked him to.

I insisted on a prenuptial agreement
that would leave me nothing,

so that he'd know that I
love him, not all this.

So who will it all go to?

I don't know, it was
always his plan to

leave the business
to the boys, but

Henry's stubborn,
and he's so angry.

Sergeant Donckers brought
it for you yesterday.

I told her you weren't really
into celebrating birthdays.

Are you OK?

Yeah. I'm fine.

I never did stop believing
in Santa, you know.

I just did not want
to ruin your life.

You deserved someone normal,
someone who'd make you happy.

I know.

I know you better than
you know yourself.

I'm afraid I doubt
that very much.

I always understood, you know.

And I have forgiven you.

You just need to
forgive yourself.

The results you
asked for, professor.

Hmm.

Hmm. What?

The whole thing was staged.

It was too operatic,
like a Gothic horror.

Reality is so much more banal.

It looked pretty real to me.

And his wanton disregard for death
threats, no-one's that blase.

I don't scare easily.

'He staged his own death?'

Or his disappearance.
Precisely so.

How'd you work that one out?

The blood traces show that he
stumbled as he left the room,

put out a hand to steady himself,
but it's clearly a right hand.

James Samson was left handed.

Pull! GUNSHOT.

And the wall would
have been on his left,

so he would automatically have used
his left hand to support himself.

Wow.

The hand print is merely
a flashing red light.

You're a genius. Proof
is the sedimentation.

When blood leaves the body,
platelets start to settle.

The blood found at the scene
belongs to James Samson,

but it was collected some
time before the incident.

There was an awful lot of blood.
No doubt collected in stages,

the last of it some time ago,
judging by these results.

James Samson is playing dead.

It's an Oscar-winning
performance, then.

We've just found his body.

POLICE RADIO CHATTER.

PHONE RINGS Sorry.

All right, then? 'We
just found his body.'

Are you sure it's him?
As sure as I can be,

he's not exactly
looking his best.

Oh, my God.

He was shot with a nine
millimetre fired from close range.

Same calibre as the bullet
fired from the motorbike.

And there are extensive burns,

we're waiting on a postmortem
to establish cause of death.

God, what a mess.

Seems like overkill.
Operatic, even.

So where does this leave us?

Natasha has an alibi

and no obvious motive, seeing as
she stands to inherit nothing.

What about the sons? Freddie
was the last to see him.

James was alive when he left.

I don't believe that either of them
are happy with his Giving Pledge.

Maybe they cooked it up
together. PHONE RINGS.

Martin.

Are you joking?

OK. Yeah, I'm gonna
have to call you back.

He died of a heart attack.

He was already dead when
he was shot and burnt.

Are they sure?
Biomarkers were sky high,

Martin says he was a cardiac
arrest waiting to happen.

Draining himself of blood can't have
helped his underlying condition.

Seems like it was
staged after all.

Bring both the sons in.

Tempest, can you sit in?

'Which of his sons did
your father love the most?'

I've asked myself
the same thing.

He loved us both equally.

Henry may pretend otherwise, but
deep down he knows it's true.

And which of you loved him more?

It's not a competition.

This ain't for you, maybe.

Henry clearly thinks
you'd win on both counts.

Our father and I had our issues.

Including your
step-mother, Natasha.

I've made no secret of it.

Were you aware she insisted
on a pre-nuptial agreement?

In the event of your father's
death, or their divorce,

she receives nothing.

Her love for your father
is entirely genuine.

I...

I had absolutely no idea.

Natasha told us your father

was desperate to bring
you into the business,

but you persisted
in rejecting him.

Our relationship
was complicated.

Working with him or Freddie
wouldn't have improved matters.

You did not consider
it your filial duty?

That's a bit of a quaint notion.

Perhaps, but I've been
thinking about it a lot lately.

What is a son's duty to
his father? To respect him?

Even if he doesn't
deserve our respect?

Tests show the blood found in
your father's study had been

collected over a
number of weeks.

The evidence indicates
he staged the scene

to make it appear as
if he'd been attacked.

We know he must have had help.

One of you was a dutiful
son who honoured his wishes.

Which of you loved
him enough to do that?

I tried to stop him.

He'd been drawing
blood for weeks.

It wasn't difficult for
someone with his background.

I can imagine.

Told him it was a terrible idea.

So why was he so
hell-bent on it?

He was convinced it would
bring Henry back into the fold.

You know how it is.

We take love for granted until
something terrible happens.

Difficult circumstances
bring people together.

The plan was he'd go into hiding

probably for no more than a
week, then he'd come back,

he'd pretend he'd
escaped his abductors.

Everyone would be so relieved.

You'd all live
happily ever after.

What happened?

I smuggled him out in
the boot of my car.

I had to stop at the gate, we
arranged that he would text me

once he felt the car
speeding up again.

So how did he end
up dead, Freddie?

I messed up. I messed it all up.

We agreed I'd pull over and get
him out once I was in the woods.

Dad?

SOBBING.

Oh, shit!

I didn't know what
to do, I panicked.

Sorry, Dad.

'I couldn't go to
the police, you see.'

I mean, who'd believe me? A
dead man couldn't vouch for me.

Ah!

I sort of just acted out what
I thought might have happened

if Dad really had been abducted.

I'm sorry, Dad.

GUNSHOT

'I tried to make it look
as if they killed him.'

But his heart had
already stopped.

There wasn't much blood.

I thought it would be
pretty obvious to forensics.

So I tried to get
rid of the evidence.

It was too wet. I couldn't
keep the fire going.

So I just left him there.

I messed up.

I messed him up so badly.

SOBBING.

So the drive-by shooting, that
was the father's idea as well?

Sounds like it. The gun was
his. But the bike was Freddie's.

It's been sitting in his
garage since he was 16,

he paid for it in cash.

Was probably stolen
in the first place.

Poor bastard.

Imagine doing that
to your own dad.

Are you OK?

I have to go home.

DISTORTED YELLING.

Pull the trigger!

SOUND DULLS.

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