All language subtitles for Bergerac s06e04 Burnt

Ha! For God's sake, man, I employ you
to play squash, not tiddlywinks!

Ssh!

There, there!

Here, sir.

There's been another leak, Sir Antony.

A mole?

It surfaced in The Independent -
"Jaws bites again."

Specific details about your share dealings
in last summer's takeover battle.

There is a nice editorial about you
in The Chronicle, though.

There should be. I own it.

There's a good boy.

You're a VERY lucky sheep!

Cup of tea, Miss Granger?

Oh, yes. And I've got some business
to attend to, too.

Right...right.

"More revelations continue to flow
from unnamed sources

"within the multi-million conglomerate

"owned by controversial City figure
Sir Antony Villiers.

(PHONE RINGS)

"Exact dates and details of
seemingly illegal transactions

"have been leaked to this newspaper."

Hello, Sir Antony Vil...

I see. Yes, I see.
Thank you, I'll tell him.

Who was it?

Inspectors, Sir Antony, from
the Department of Trade and Industry.

They've just moved in to look for
evidence of insider dealing.

Are the press still out front?

- Yes, Sir Antony.
- I'll use the service lift.

- Get the tea cups out, Sidney.
- Right, your Sunday best!

And I hope you two gentlemen
will wash your hands!

- Wash your hands, Sidney.
- And properly!

Properly!

Now, I need a clean table.

Sidney, move your mole traps.

You move 'em. I'm washing my hands!

Very well, Sidney.

Thank you.

- What happened to the cake, Sidney?
- You ate it, Georges, for breakfast.

The cat must have had it.

Now...

"You, Georges Harold Gascoigne Le Blanc,

"and you,
Sidney Giscard Phillipe Le Blanc,

"on this 17th day of July,
being faithful liege servants

"and true bondsmen of the Manor of Sark,

"do hereby ascribe and append
your signatures unto these documents

"which I now herewith present."

- We do.
- Ah, we do!

Drive on.

Thank you, Henry.

See you soon.

Henry's only got a few more days.

- Cancer.
- Jonathan...

He doesn't want to... I don't want him
to leave Sark and go into hospital.

We've been together for over 40 years now.

I know.

I'll be over tomorrow,
I'll bring some eggs.

Thank you, Anne.

Thanks for the signatures.

- Afternoon, Pam.
- Anne!

- Hello.
- This is for personal delivery, Rosemary.

Thank you.

Right!

Sir Antony, is it true you're guilty
of insider trading?

Why have you come to Jersey?

For my health.
I always like Jersey at this time of year.

And do remember,
I own a very large house here.

Sir Antony, is it true you were
once associated with a Page Three girl?

Is it true you've come to Jersey
to escape prosecution?

Do you have a mole in your organisation?

Er, just to say, gentlemen and...

lady of the press...

how nice it is to be here in Jersey.

I believe there's a package for me.

Thank you.

Excuse me.

- You never answered my question.
- Sir Antony...

- Thank you, Deborah.
- Morning, Chief Inspector.

Sir Harold.

- Detective Sergeant.
- Sir.

This is a very delicate moment for us
here on Jersey.

You know,
every time there's a banking scandal,

insurance fraud, tax avoidance,

gold smuggling, insider dealing,

it seems that those responsible
operate through Jersey.

Already there are political moves afoot
on the mainland

to curb our traditional freedoms
and independence.

I can't overstate to you
how unfortunate...

disastrous...such moves would be.

What I have to tell you, gentlemen,
is in the strictest confidence.

Strictest confidence.

Last night, an international financier,
Sir Antony Villiers, arrived on Jersey.

Now, he has a perfectly valid
resident's permit,

owns a large mansion on the island,

and controls several Jersey firms.

I don't know whether the man's guilty
of the crimes he's accused of or not,

but the government of Jersey has come
under intense pressure from London

to allow a team of inspectors from
the Department of Trade and Industry

to examine his company records
here on the island.

We have agreed to co-operate.

If sufficient evidence is found,

we are prepared to back a warrant,
issued in England,

under the Indictable Offences Act
of 1848, for his arrest.

You will understand therefore the need
for the greatest possible discretion.

Of course, Sir Harold,
if every Jersey resident

were to think himself vulnerable to
investigation, we would be in a pickle.

SIR HAROLD: You, Detective Sergeant,

will act as liaison officer

with the Jersey Court Inspector
and the DTI team,

which are already on Jersey in secret.

You will provide police
and legal backing for the team

so they can get where they want to,
when they want to.

You'll also maintain
a discreet surveillance on Villiers.

- Who do I report to, sir?
- Myself.

Through Inspector Crozier here.

Well, the fact is that the DTI inspectors
are at this very moment on the island.

I heard it from the very highest
authority, And he has our money!

- Villiers?
- Aye.

- How?
- Good question.

Well, try and answer it, Charlie.

Well, the fact is, he has provided
our informal investment group here

with some extremely valuable tips on

- future stock market trading.
- Insider trading!

- Did I say insider trading?
- Calm down, Charlie!

- Aye.
- No, you did not.

I know. I thought it was unprofitable
to keep our money hanging about

until he was prepared to drop us a tip.

- And you let him swallow it!
- In an advisory capacity, yes.

- And now it's disappeared.
- If what Charlie boy here says is true!

- Look here, I'm warning you!
- Gentlemen!

Sorry.

Pass us them birch twigs, will you?

I always find it helps...clear the mind.

I think it might be handy if you kept
an eye on the inspectors themselves,

to see what they're up to.

Am I answering to you or to Sir Harold?

You're answering
to Sir Harold...through me.

- Can I use your phone?
- Sure.

(PHONE RINGS)

Susan, it's your private line.

(PHONE KEEPS RINGING)

My God!
It's like a complete military operation.

Jaws. Himself.

An artist.

We must never underestimate the man,
Detective Sergeant.

- No, sir.
- Or the task ahead of us,

But there's a mole in his organisation
and that is his Achilles heel,

Detective Sergeant, meet my assistant,
Martin "Cruncher" Smith.

- How do you do?
- Of course, he understands business,

accountancy and corporate structures,
but really, he's a computer expert.

"Number Cruncher" Smith.

Inspector, could you give me
some background on this Villiers?

Character, career?

He started life as a financier,
specialising in

taking over companies
that weren't doing well,

but had a large number
of realisable assets.

- Asset stripper, was he?
- Right.

After a while, though,
you can see him thinking...

You can see his perfectly constructed,
silk-smooth mind thinking...

"Why bother to take over a company,

"with all the business of having to run it
and deal with people, produce products?

"Why not play the whole game
on the stock market?"

- Arbitrage, the science is called.
- Insider trading, it's called in court.

To the outside world it appears as pure
genius, guessing who's taking over whom.

But on the inside,
it's done by bribing and blackmailing

those who know
there's going to be a takeover.

So what made this nice man
decide to come to Jersey?

If you're practising insider trading,

it's best to instruct a broker
outside British jurisdiction.

- Like in Jersey.
- To buy and sell your shares.

So the British authorities
can't get your records.

Until now.

And it's a convenient place to set up
a chain of offshore companies

through which you can siphon off
all your illegal profits.

- Looks like he's thought of everything.
- CRUNCHER: He hasn't thought of me.

- You're a mathematician, are you?
- Double first at Cambridge.

What part do you play in this?

Well, when you get down to it,

the vast paper empires these characters
throw up are mathematical in essence.

They have a sort of asymmetrical beauty.

- Do they?
- Yes, the money flows through...

and out the other side with a logic,
it's a logic of deception.

A bit like a hall of mirrors, really,
Well, an archway of mirrors,

reflections and deceits,
spanning countries, continents.

I and my computer hunt it down,
ferret it out.

"It"?

O'NEILL: A master company.
They always have one.

Somewhere, hidden in all this subterfuge.

Lurking.

A key controlling company
where all the money ends up.

- Do you mind if I make a phone call?
- Over there.

Thanks.

Detective Sergeant, your conversation
will of course be recorded.

Bugged?

With the go-ahead of the Home Secretary.

We are dealing with matters
of the utmost delicacy.

So am I.

(PHONE RINGS)

I've been thinking, Oscar...
about the future.

About EVERYBODY'S future.

And I think I've come to the conclusion...

I'm certain I've come to the conclusion...

that now MUST be the time to act.

Yes. Now IS the time.

Janine, I want you
to drive to St Helier now.

- Yes, Sir Antony.
- Have this posted immediately.

- There must be no delay.
- Yes.

And with that done...
our labours will be completed.

We can sit back and await our fate.

- Hurry up, then, girl.
- Sorry, Sir Antony.

I see no reason why we shouldn't do that.

Oh, no. No problem.
No problem at all.

- Chivers, I want a word with you.
- I'll get back to you.

Right, Chivers...

I've been going through
the access log to this computer,

which alone holds information
on our master company.

Only you and I have a key
to this extremely secure office.

And only you and I possess knowledge
of the extremely complex codes

required to gain access to this computer.

You and I.

- Yes, Sir Antony.
- You have access to it physically here,

and I through an ex-directory telephone
line, whose number I alone possess.

Now, the computer...

has logged access to it...on these times.

These specific times have been noted

in your log here.

And these dates and times
I have noted in my diary.

That still leaves four other dates.

But, Sir Antony...

Shortly after each of these dates,

information extremely damaging to me
and my company was leaked to the press.

It could only have come
from THIS computer.

- Sir Antony, I...
- Chivers!

Chivers, I am a man for whom...

exactness...accuracy in business
is everything.

This creation of mine,

this whole construction
and confection of mine,

it runs like clockwork.

Now, I did not gain access
to this computer at these times.

Why did you?

What in God's name is going on?

- What are you doing here?
- Sergeant Bergerac. Jersey States Police.

Stay where you are, please.

I have here warrants authorising myself
and other officers named thereon

to take in the manner prescribed
such evidence in the furtherance

of this inves... Hey!

What the hell are you doing?

And what the hell are YOU doing
barging into my house?

You have destroyed incriminating evidence.

Prove it. Just say I have an instinctive
dislike of modern technology.

Doesn't matter. We've got
enough evidence here to sink him.

Antediluvian vandalism of the worst sort.

And who are you?

O'Neill. Department of Trade and Industry.

- On Jersey?
- Take a look at these, sir.

This is an outrage.

We're not holding you, Sir Antony.

Just taking over
your records and paperwork for a while.

(JIM CHUCKLES)

You're perfectly at liberty to go or stay
as you wish.

Yes, go on. I'll be in touch as soon
as this ludicrous tantrum is over.

Especially with you, Chivers.

- And what about me?
- You're free to go, sir.

These warrants are against
your property, not you.

But we'd rather you stayed in Jersey,
please.

You'll regret this,

I think I'm going to rather enjoy it,
actually!

I hope THIS phone isn't bugged.

I'm afraid it is.

HUNGERFORD: Hey, steady on, driver!
It's not Brands Hatch, you know!

CALHOUN: We've got to make a bid,
We've got to be diplomatic,

- Bugger that! Charlie got us into this.
- Me?

All I did was play golf
with Villiers' stockbroker.

- So Charlie boy can get us out of it.
- Charlie, just go in, nice and cool,

- and test the waters.
- Test the waters?

- Then maybe bluster a bit.
- He'll be good at that.

Shout about being on the
Law and Order Committee and so on.

Demand to know what's going on.
Maybe something will float to the surface.

- Like our money(!)
- Float to the surface?

Here we are, Charlie. Good luck.

Thank you.

Ah, Jim!

Charlie!

- You've brought me some flowers.
- Eh?

- They're not for you, you daft...
- What lovely flowers!

Oh!

- I brought them for you, actually.
- You didn't!

I wondered if you'd accompany me
to a dinner-dance on Friday

to raise funds for the...
it's for something or other.

- You mean the blind?
- Aye, that's right, the blind.

That's the charity organised
by Sir Arnold and Lady Trowbridge.

CHARLIE: The Calhouns and Hendersons
are going. I thought you'd like to come.

Mm. The Calhouns and Hendersons!

The Calhouns and Hendersons!

- I'll pick you up at eight, all right?
- Lovely.

- Charlie!
- What is it?

- The flowers!
- Oh, aye.

Hey, Jim! Jim!

- Hey, Jim!
- Yes, Charles, I'm all ears.

Well, it's just that we've...or rather
I've heard, through proper channels,

that there is a possibility
that Sir Antony Villiers might...

Ah! So you and Sidney Calhoun

and Gerald Henderson
have been hearing things!

- I never mentioned them.
- What have you lot been up to?

Holding seances? Shoving the Ouija board
round in darkened rooms?

- Jim, be serious!
- Look, Charlie,

if you've got yourself into a hole,
I'm not digging you out, all right?

- Aye, but...
- Now look... You're a big boy now.

Jim!

There you are!

- Where's his yacht?
- Over there.

- Oh, very nice.
- He hasn't been near it.

- What's he doing, then?
- Perhaps he just likes fishing.

Brilliant(!) Go on, get off.
He's all mine.

- Do you need these?
- No.

Hello.

Hello.

- Can I speak to Susan, please?
- Susan?

Yeah, Susan Young, your boss.
She works here.

She's gone out.

- She's gone out, has she?
- On a job.

You're sure she didn't nip in
through that door when I came in?

OK.

Thank you.
Thank you very much(!)

(DOOR SLAMS)

Detective Sergeant Bergerac,
Jersey States Police.

I'm commandeering this boat,,,
Français?

- Oui.
- Suivez l'aéroglisseur. Allons-y!

JIM ON RADIO: Barney...

You're meant to be reporting in to me.

Villiers gave me the slip.
He's on the Sark Hydrofoil.

Sark?

Don't worry, I'm going after him.

- Well, thank you, gentlemen.
- Thank you.

- Excuse me. That man, he got a bike?
- Yes.

- Can I hire one?
- That gentleman took the last one.

We don't allow motorcars on Sark, neither.

Well, thank God I did those push-ups!

Push-ups?

He's from Jersey. You can tell.

Much obliged!

Thank you.

- That's splendid.
- Thanks.

Ah, Sergeant Bergerac!

You'll be pleased to know
I've completed my business here.

- I'm on my way back.
- What have you got in there?

Ah! You're outside
yourjurisdiction here on Sark.

No different from me.

Besides, I think I'm in a lot better
physical shape than you!

Go on, then. Tell me.

- What?
- Tell me what you get out of all this.

All this skulduggery, this wheeling and
dealing, all this international chicanery.

Why do you do it? Is it the power?

Is it the feeling that you can know
things, do things other people can't?

I mean, there must be some reason,
some kind of buzz.

Well...

it's always seemed to me
the natural thing to do.

What an extraordinary question.

Why do you follow me so doggedly?

- Eh...well...
- Exactly.

I'm at ease with what I do.

I enjoy it.
If I didn't do this so well, so...

so cleverly...
what in God's name would I do?

Who the hell are you, anyway?

Pestering me?
Asking me questions.

We're in the middle of nowhere...

no witnesses...

no law...nothing!

Don't you ever ask me
a question like that again.

Not ever. Understand?

It's in Sark somewhere.

- What?
- The master company...

or whatever it is you're looking for.

Here, SA Holdings Company, Liechtenstein,
to the LBR Trading Corporation, Panama,

then back to Hanna Investments,
Isle of Man.

Meanwhile, £3,2 million leaves Whitburn
Investment Bank, Grand Cayman Islands.

While £2,1 million is telegraphed
into St Helier.

Oh, it has a sort of geometrical beauty
about it.

I've a rough idea of all the houses
he visited.

No, the master company
has nothing to do with Sark.

How do you know?

The power, the money,
is concentrated around here.

It disappears into this sort of
Bermuda triangle,

between Bermuda, the Cayman Islands
and, er...and the Isle of Man.

Why did Villiers go to the trouble of
escaping from me and going to Sark?

- To distract us from the truth.
- Oh, come on!

You've run into a wall of paper here,
haven't you?

We have been in this situation before.

- Not as bad as this, though, have you?
- (COMPUTER BLEEPS)

I think your computer's got indigestion.

(BLAST OF CAR HORN)

- Jim,
- Willy.

This was left for you, urgent.

- Who by?
- Anonymous.

- See you.
- See you later.

Inspector! Mr Smith!
Can I have a word, please?

Would have helped
if you'd seen this sooner, wouldn't it?

That is Villiers' master company in Sark,
and a list of his directors,

And those are the same people
I saw him go and see in Sark.

Somebody, somewhere, thinks it important
enough to send me a list of those names.

Deliberate red herring.

Oh, come on!

Villiers has been plagued by leaks of
information, the one chink in his armour.

Somewhere in his organisation
there's a mole.

Detective Sergeant, let me tell you about
the position of companies on Sark.

It's known as the Sark Lark.

An owner registers a company
anywhere in the world,

then approaches a random series of Sark
residents to be their company's directors.

They're paid £50, £100 a year to do

- whatever the owner tells them.
- "Rubber stampers."

And since Sark has no company law,

directors can never be prosecuted
for any actions their company might take.

Since the owner's company is controlled
by directors outside the jurisdiction

of any country,
he is effectively free from prosecution.

Has any Sark director ever acted
against a company owner?

- Never.
- I'm going back there.

JIM: Hello, Susan. It's just to let
you know I'm phoning to say, frankly,

I am reaching the point where I don't care

whether you answer my calls or not.
Goodbye.

That's where we first met, El Alamein.

They take a long time,
these modern battles. Several days.

You can't spend all your time
running around trying to be a hero.

At first we thought
it was just the danger -

you know, shells bursting,
bullets ricocheting, tanks grinding past.

But later, in Alexandria,
and then the rest of the war,

and ever since...

it's been true love.

Just him and me. Together.

Until now.

But you don't want to hear about that.

I came about the company
and the documents that you sign.

- Oh, those.
- Do you ever read them?

No, never. Anne Granger used to
bring them round and we signed them.

- Anne Granger?
- Mm.

(COCK CROWS)

(DOG BARKS)

Miss Granger?

Yes?

How do you do?

I'm Jim Bergerac,
a detective sergeant on Jersey.

Um...as a resident of Sark,
you're under no obligation to reply,

but I wondered if you'd answer
a few questions, please?

On what subject?

HBS Investments, Sark,
a company owned by Sir Antony Villiers.

No, I wouldn't.

Oh.

Well, it's a nice smallholding
you've got here.

- Pigs?
- You're pretty bad at the small-talk.

- Want a cup of tea?
- Yes, please. That'd be lovely.

And take your shoes off.

I don't usually let guests through
in there, but go on.

I'll bring a pot of tea in.

You reached me at an awful time,
when I was making a crucial decision.

- Really?
- Concerning Oscar.

- Who's Oscar?
- My favourite pig.

I'm afraid his time has come.
He's so nice and friendly, human even.

I've been putting it off and off,
but he's been getting fatter and fatter.

- The market for him, is it?
- Yes.

Over in your part of the world.
I'm trying to hide it from him, though.

You haven't always been
a pig farmer, have you?

Ahh! The detective at work!

You're quite right.

Before I sort of retired,
I was an engineer in the oil business.

Building refineries.

- That's a big job.
- Yes, a very big job.

A wonderful job.

It's very difficult explaining to
an outsider the beauty of a job like that.

As Chief Engineer,
getting together experts

from all different parts of the refinery.
Experts in their fields.

The excitement of running,
shaping, orchestrating a team like that.

Watching the thing
slowly assembling itself,

heaving itself up off the ground
limb by steel limb.

We built the most advanced refinery
in Europe, there at Hampton.

- That's where the fire was, wasn't it?
- Yes.

Where I lost most of my best,
closest friends.

It's where I got my burns...
trying to save them.

Sorry.

I retired soon after that.

I took up a nice, clean business -
pig farming!

Thanks for the tea, Miss Granger.

You're very privileged,
I don't let many people in.

Thank you!

- You'll never catch him, you know.
- Who?

- Villiers.
- Well...

Never in a thousand years!
He's far too clever for you.

Goodbye, Miss Granger.

There, Oscar.
The time has come, I'm afraid.

- It's Jersey for both of us.
- (OSCAR GRUNTS)

My name's Anne Granger.
The manager is expecting me.

Well, your documents
are in perfect order, Miss Granger.

Of course they are!

Chief Executive's signature,
all the directors.

What would you like us to do
with the money? After you've counted it.

Well, it's a pleasure
to do business with you.

Indeed.

- Willy...
- Jim?

- That refinery fire in Hampton...
- About 10 years ago?

Yes. Get hold of Companies House
in London.

See which company owned it
at the time of the fire.

- (PEGGY SINGING)
- What are you so cheerful about?

- I'm going to the dinner-dance tonight.
- Oh, yes, with the Calhouns.

AND Sir Arnold and Lady Trowbridge.

- Oooh, Lady Trowbridge(!)
- Could I speak to Susan Young?

What? Sorry?

Oh, I see.

Well, tell her from me, please,

that if she doesn't phone me back PDQ,
it is over.

- Thank you. Goodbye.
- That's the way to treat 'em!

- (PHONE RINGING)
- Hello.

Charlie.

I sound disappointed?
Well, I AM.

No, it is not convenient
to have a meeting. I'm busy.

Information vital to police enquiries?
Hang on.

What's going on? The DTI Inspectors.

If you want my opinion,

Villiers and his maze of companies
have got them beaten.

- They're not getting anywhere.
- God!

Charlie? Look, all right,
I'll meet you tonight. Where?

Yes.

(DANCE BAND MUSIC)

That's why I called you.

- I...
- WE have it on good authority

that Villiers' money
was transferred today.

Right under our very noses!

That's daylight robbery!

Taken from a bank in Jersey,

transported to Sark
by some director of his company...

- Sark?
- You've got to get it back!

- How did you learn about this?
- Utterly reliable sources.

- Utterly reliable,
- The bank manager?

That bastard has lost all his money in
London, but got a nest-egg over here,

but it's all tied up so carefully...

- He gets our nest-eggs as well!
- Get our money back from Sark!

I can't do that. Jersey is
Britain's offshore island.

You've taken advantage of that.

Sark is Jersey's offshore island,

and someone has taken advantage
of YOU, You have been burnt!

Jim!

- From Companies House.
- The fire?

- Yes. You're looking smart.
- Come on, let's get over there!

- What's your news?
- Not too good, I'm afraid, Sir Harold.

- The DTI Inspectors have made a mess.
- Oh, dear.

Villiers has worldwide companies,
and not a penny in any of them.

His money's in a totally separate
master company.

- Based in Sark.
- SIR HAROLD: Sark, eh?

What do you think should be done,
Detective Inspector?

Well...

- BERGERAC: We should let him go.
- What?

Why?

We've no evidence against him.
He's defeated the best brains of the DTI

and Jersey has done its best.

Yes. I think no-one can deny we've
done our best to see that justice is done.

I think Sir Antony should be
put on his ocean-going yacht,

told to go where he likes, just so long
as it isn't Jersey.

(RADIO BEEPING)

Yep?

- Jim.
- Willy.

I've got Susan on the line.
Shall I patch her through?

No. Tell her I've gone to Sark!

BERGERAC: So Villiers
bought up the company

that owned the Hampton Refinery?

Some takeover deal on the stock market.

Sharked it up. Started stripping
all its assets, running it for bust...

- forgetting all the safety rules.
- Till it exploded?

The government report blamed
a management greedy for profit.

But that didn't bring back
my closest colleagues and friends -

lost, eaten in the flames.

What did you do?

It wasn't hard. I knew he worked
his finances through Jersey, Sark.

So when I got out of hospital,
I moved here.

Bought the farm?

Right. I offered myself
as a director on the Sark Lark.

He didn't know who I was.

Why should he? I was just another
middle-aged woman with a rather bad scar.

Only I became useful to him
as a director, organising the signatures.

He started to trust me.
A nobody.

Only I read the documents
of the master company,

and bothered to find out what they meant.

A financial empire's a bit like
an oil refinery.

It wasn't difficult to get inside. Then
broke his code and got into his computer.

- Where all the vital information is?
- Right.

Which I started leaking to the press.
He deserved it.

His empire collapsed out there in England,
the world.

I knew he'd be forced back here
to the Channel Islands,

forced to rely more and more
on his directors! ME!

Till in the end all his money
was stuck in Jersey,

and I was the only one could get it out!

- Why the fire?
- To guide him in.

- Sorry?
- He's out there, on his yacht.

Where?

Somewhere out there in the darkness.
The fire's so he can come ashore.

There's a path up the cliff.
He's coming to collect his money.

You're not a resident of Sark.

You have no rights, no liabilities.
Would you care to help me in a task?

- Sure? What task?
- Putting these on the fire.

His companies were foolproof.
You would never have caught him.

It's money!

- He needs more light to guide him.
- NO!

Yes! It's the only way.

Fight fire with fire.
BURN him out!

- How much...three or four million?
- Everything!

That's his entire fortune!

Did he ever stop or hesitate
for one second while human flesh...

crackled and burnt and roasted?

Whilst the air stank with death and fear?

Whole families, communities,
robbed of their fathers,

their loved ones, so he might have money!

THIS! He exchanged love,

fellowship, human warmth
and trust for this!

Well, let it burn!
Flames to flames. Ashes to ashes!

You are on Sark now,
Detective Sergeant Bergerac.

Where there are no laws
to bind or punish you! Come on!

You are your only law!
Help guide Sir Antony in!

Yes.

Miss Granger.

Bergerac.

Well...