All language subtitles for Luther.S05E02.1080p.BluRay.x265-YAWNiX

Okay, so where do I meet him?

Well, apparently,

there's a bench
on the north side of the promenade

on the corner of, erm,
Spitsenstraat and Houtdok-Noordkaai.

They'll meet you there.

And you're sure
he's ready to pay?

Mmm-hmm.

Merci.

Jacob, how did it go?

It's all gone according to plan.

My men will have your diamonds by now.

Thank you.

All right, all right.

Wotcha.

Don't pretend you're not pleased
to see me.

I'm not.
I'm a bit surprised you're alive.

I didn't come looking for joy
unconfined, just a...

place to hide.

Maybe a cup of tea
and a chocolate digestive.

Please.

Nope.

Oh...

# Love is like a sin, my love

# For the ones
that feel it the most

# Look at her
with her eyes like a flame

# She will love you like a fly

# Will never love you again #

Ow.

Ugh.

ow!

Ah!

Ah. Ow.

Alice,

I don't want anything to do with it.

I want you patched up

and out of the door.
Do you understand me?

ow.

ow! Ow.

So, what happened?

A big boy did it and ran away.

Mmm.

You robbed me, George.

I can understand why you think that,
but,

they stole from us both.

All right, what do you want?
I'm a thief. I've robbed you.

How was I to know you're basically
the Tasmanian Devil?

Make the transfer.

Pay what you owe, plus, erm,
20% for the inconvenience.

I'm afraid I have to decline.

I beg your pardon?

I'm not buying what you're selling.

I'm selling your son, George.

Even so.

You crack me up, George.

You really do.
But I really am going to need that money

or I'll take Alice's head to the zoo
and feed it to the monkeys.

Oh, no, come now.
You're not gonna do that here.

ow.

Kidnapped his son
and tried to do him over.

ow!

George and I had a little chat.

-Oh.
-I say "chat".

He beat the crap out of me.

ow!

-Oh.
-Ah.

Ah. I see... OW!

Hold up. Hold up.

Sorry, boss.

I've been reading this

and it's James Hauser's
psychiatric file.

Something's off.

All right, yeah, erm...
Come on in.

Come on, yeah.

Close the door behind you.

So, Vivien Lake gives us her patient's
psychological history.

It talks a lot about his shame

and anxiety.

Now, the actual file talks a lot

about his obsession with
suicidal ideation, I mean,

-a lot.
-Does she mention

that he's a suicide risk?

-Not once.
-Let's have a look.

So...

...what if you're right?
What if she did cross the line?

Vivien Lake and James Hauser
in a psychosexual...

...Jamboree. A big old bag of wrong?

Speaking of which, erm,

do you mind if I...

Oh, yeah. Yeah.
Upstairs, first on the right.

Well, Hauser spirals out of control,
Vivien's now implicated.

She faces ruination, maybe prison.

But the one thing we knew about him,
or thought we knew,

or whatever,
he didn't want to get caught.

He was audacious,
but he was also careful.

With the masks, with the cameras,
the escape routes...

...decides to kill himself
rather than get arrested.

Maybe he's ashamed? I mean, he could be.

Who knows what drives someone
to kill themselves, right?

Except in this case, someone knows.
Vivien Lake.

Yeah?

Er, oh, boss?

I think DS Halliday is on to something.

I think she probably is.

Yes.

So, erm,

what's the next step? How...
How do we play it?

Well, it won't be easy.

Her defences are up. She's calculating.

She's intelligent and she's got nerve.

Besides, we don't have any hard evidence
of wrongdoing.

No, we don't.

Is she married?

Eighteen years.

Happily?

Apparently.

Why?

Well, the happier the marriage,
the easier it is to weaponise.

And the Cynic of the Year Award
goes to...

No, I'm not a cynic.

That's basically my problem.

I think we, er, pay the husband a visit

and then see how Vivien Lake reacts.

Guv?

Yeah.

And you're off.

Oh, sod this.

He thinks you're my weak spot.

He thinks he can hurt me by hurting you.

Bollocks.

- No, no.
- No!

No!

:::::: www.hiqve.com ::::::

Go and check.

No, no, no!

What's the rule?

Play safe.

And did you?

No.

No.

James was our one contingency.

Took me months to lay the groundwork.

And now it's thrown away.

Just used up.

Wasted.

I'm sorry.

I hope you know I can't go back
to my house until this is put right.

What if it can't be put right?

No, I want my life back
the way it was until you pitched up.

It will be put right.

- Sorry!
- You're really not.

What do you want me to say?

I've rather missed all this.

-So have you, probably.
-I really haven't.

-Oh, pish.
-Look at my face.

-Shh!
-Look at it!

-Oh...
-Er...

-What about this one?
-Yeah, yeah. Hurry up.

-Just...
-No, I got it.

Shit, come on.

Ah, magic.

Well, she sounds very keen.

-Who?
-Your new bestie. What's her name?

Anne of Green Gables, erm,
I don't know, Heidi.

-Halliday.
-"Halliday." Oh! Oh, that's interesting.

What is?

Well, the impersonal use of her surname.

Are you trying to un-sex her in my mind?

No.

Because, honestly, why on Earth
would you do that?

I just don't want you turning her face
into a...a handbag.

How did you do it?

Does it matter?

Yes, it matters.

I saw the murder report.

Your body on the slab.
I saw all of that.

Oh, John, don't be insulting.

There's not much you can't buy
from a retiring officer

with a crappy pension
and a chip on his shoulder.

All T wanted to do

was die, disappear,
and leave you in peace.

But George Cornelius put paid to that,

and that's why
I'm back to rap his knuckles.

Is that all you're back for?

What else is there?

You couldn't just walk away?

No, of course not.

I had to be dead.

That's how all your
best relationships end.

You look very handsome.

I like your tie.

You bought it for me.

-Milan.
-I remember.

You wore it the night you kicked
that Somali rent-boy half to death.

No more risks.

No.

We have to be absolutely sure

you're not developing any problems
with impulse control.

I'm not.

Because what's the rule?

Play safe.

Play safe.

Honestly.

Girl on the bus, she went... So scared.

Be that as it may,

don't let it happen again.

You need to be more careful.

DCI Luther sends
his apologies.

You've got me today, I'm afraid.

DCI Luther brings cake.

-He does?
-Usually.

Are we talking about
the same DCI Luther?

Big chap, likes cake.

You're going to need a bucket.

Er, for what?

To be sick into.

Do people really do that?

Now and again.

Too much cake.

Perhaps we should crack on.

There's a deep, obliquely-placed
incise neck injury

at the front side of the neck.

There are no other injuries.

No hesitation cuts, no defence injuries.

The pattern of the injury
is consistent with suicide.

That he cut his own throat
and bled to death.

Er, the lack of hesitation injuries,
how significant is that?

Ordinarily, I'd say very.

It's quite an endeavour to take
a scalpel to your own throat

and do this without wavering.

But?

But Mr Hauser seems quite accustomed
to various levels of self-mutilation.

I found 39 needles

embedded in the lower abdomen,
the perineum and the testicles.

I'm sorry, when you say "needles,"
what do you mean?

Needles. Household sewing needles.

And, er, who put them there?

He did.

The oldest of the needles
has been in situ for some time.

Years, possibly.

More grunt, more finesse.

These are absolutely the right wheels.

I know my wheels, man.

These are the right wheels
for the terrain.

What are you doing, man?

Whoa, whoa, whoa.

Shh, shh.

- Hello, boss.
- Benny,

I need you here.

I'm sorry, boss,
I think I've caught that norovirus.

I've basically been up all night
turning myself inside out.

I don't care if you've shit out
your own liver on Oxford Street.

I need you here, now.

Then I'm on my way.

Sorry, Minty, mate,
I'm going to have to tip.

And that's it, is it?

That's police protection
in this day and age?

Try not to drink all the milk, eh?

Jeremy Lake's office.

I'm afraid Mr Lake's not yet
in the office.

Can I take a message for you, Mrs Lake?

Stay close to Mummy, darling.

Okay.

Sorry about that.
Now, where were we last time?

- Morning.
- Morning.

Mmm-hmm.

- Morning.
- Morning.

-Morning, Miriam.
-Morning, Jeremy.

-Mrs Lake left a message for you.
-Thank you.

Oh, and Eleanor Cadman's
15 minutes early.

Ah.

Eleanor, I'm Jeremy Lake.

Has someone talked you
through the procedure?

-Er, no.
-Oh. May I?

-Yes, of course.
-Mmm.

Yeah, sorry.

You have a condition
known as mitral valve regurgitation.

The valve inside your heart
isn't closing properly,

so blood is leaking back.

You're a diseased whore, so today
we're going to replace the faulty valve.

Now, I'm going to make an incision
down the centre of your chest,

and then I'm going to saw through
your sternum and separate the halves.

Your heart is surrounded by a membrane,
called the pericardium.

I'm going to cut through that
and kill you,

then I'm going to make an incision into
your superior and inferior vena cava,

and attach a very thin tube
called a cannula.

I'm sorry,

what did you say?

Don't worry, I've done it 100 times.

Right.

I had to keep it.

Issues with the will.

I bet there were.

Typical Mum and Dad.

Didn't actually write one.

Did you know the observable universe
got bigger?

No, I missed that.

Well, it's true.

Last time I saw you, we assumed
there were about 200 billion galaxies.

The revised estimate
puts it at two trillion, so,

what we believed
to be absolutely everything

was basically just a rounding error.

Closer to zero

than the true number.

-Great.
-It's funny, really.

We fantasise about these things.

You become

enraptured with how meaningful
it will all be.

And with each repetition,
the fantasy becomes more refined,

until one day it's perfect.

What you'll do,

what they'll say, what words and what
precise tone of voice, the look...

The look in their eyes when they say it.

The reality can never measure up.

It was such an anticlimax.

I almost wished I'd never done it.

That's why meeting you is such fun.

You made it meaningful.

And you'll be glad I did it.

-Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.
-Oh, no, don't be.

They were dead anyway.

You made me feel better.

Turned it into a sport.

-It wasn't that.
-Of course it was.

Not in the end.

No.

That's what spoiled it.

Is that why you left?

No, John, you left first.

Right.

Where is he?

This way.

Funny.

I was never allowed boys in here.

I only gave him a small sedative,

but he's still away with the fairies.

I think we have to take him back
to his dad.

Er, no, in all honesty,
I'm not sure his dad wants him.

Look.

Yeah, look, the poor boy's
an embarrassment.

Cornelius can't just take him back
and pretend it never happened.

It would weaken him.

He has to punish us
and be seen to punish us.

"We" are not "us".

Well, ask him that.
He thinks we're up a tree.

K-I-S-S-I-N-G.

Yeah, well, I'll have to figure out
a way to make him

come out of this looking stronger.

Or option two,

we kill him and run.

We tried that. You got scared, remember?

-No, John, that's not what happened.
-Then what happened?

You left.

If that's what you think,
then you remember it wrong.

I've got to go.

More work, is it?

Uncuff him.

If we want to disappear...

I mean, really disappear...

we need to liquidate these.

...man who is targeting shoppers.

Why does it matter?

-Does it arouse you?
-No.

Do I?

Yes.

Well, then you're looking
in the wrong direction, John.

Some of these people
would still be alive if I was there.

How is he?

Oh, he's a bit woozy, but he'll live.

Silly sod.

Well, I appreciate the courtesy.

I told you I'd sort it.

Did you know about this, honestly?

No.

Well, she was there, wasn't she?
Last night, at your gaff?

Yeah, she showed up
five minutes before you did.

Oh.

So, where has she been hiding
all this time,

the Wicked Bitch of the West?

I don't know

-and I don't care.
-Hmm, fair enough.

More to the point,

where is she now?

Give her to me,
and you and me are all square.

This is about a lot more

then getting my boy back.

Yeah, I know what it's about, George.

That doesn't mean
we can't make it right.

How do you propose to do that?

Money.

Where'd you get all this money?

It's money tied into my house.

You'd really do that?

Give up everything you earned,
everything you've worked for?

Yeah.

For her?

Huh?

Let me get my boy back home.

I'll give you a bell.

Wakey, wakey.

We're done. You can leave.

John, tell me, what did you do?

I paid him off.

I'm sorry, what with?
You don't have any money.

You don't know me as well
as you think you do.

There's always option two.

No, this is
not my fight, this is

some hole you've dragged me in
and I've just dragged us out, okay?

So now you can go home.

- I'm not yours to...
- Alice, we're done.

You can go.

You're looking
in the wrong direction.

Well, why does it matter?

About half a million people are murdered
every year.

That's about 10,000 a week, 1,400 a day.

One per minute.

That's rounding the figures.

-And excluding death by...
-So0?

So chances are it's happening right now

in Distrito Central,
Port-au-Prince, Cape Town.

So why does this one matter more?

Does the pressure
of the moral circle decrease

the further you get from the centre?

Because that's
not really morality, is it?

That's more a kind of...

sanctimonious provincialism.

Some of these people
would still be alive if I was there.

Well, as untestable hypotheses go,
that's a doozy.

I just know.

And you don't think
this assumption of omnipotence

is a touch narcissistic?

Because I have to say,
it didn't help dear old Justin Ripley,

did it?

Sorry about that.
I had to drop something off.

Oh, yeah? What, a body?

-A sofa?
-A box that said "Mind your own".

Is there anything
that I need to know about?

No.

-Anything I need to follow up on?
-No, you're good.

-Anything I can help with?
-You're helping.

This is helping.

Jeremy Lake, I'm DCI John Luther,
this is DS Halliday.

What would you like,
a round of applause?

Wouldn't hurt.

I don't mean to be ill-mannered
but I'm due in surgery shortly, so...

Can we have a seat for a moment?

You have a medical condition
which requires it?

Er, no.

Well, then, yes, I mind.

Er, we're just gathering
background information, really.

Well, I'm not sure I can be much help.

At least not in that regard.

How much do you know
about your wife's patient,

James Hauser?

Before last night, nothing.

So you were unaware of the, er,

intense nature of their relationship?

"Intense"?

Yeah,
I think that's the right word.

Is it?

Vivien and I don't discuss patients.

Is there a reason for that?

Well, absolutely.
Acute lack of interest.

They're like

battery-hens shitting out
identical neuroses,

each of them feeling different
in exactly the same way.

Erm, how's Vivien feeling?

It must have been quite the wrench
losing somebody she became so close to.

Vivien is my wife,

not my chattel.

She can do whatever she chooses
with whomever she chooses.

Er, personally,

I very much doubt she'd risk her career
by sexually amusing herself

with some masturbating oddball
who got his

jollies by jamming pins
into his testicles

and threading rusty wire
down his urethra.

I certainly haven't noticed

any wounding to her buttocks or breasts,

which, I understand,
were his areas of particular interest.

Which is before he started
vivisecting them.

Before then, yes.

Now, if your hope in coming here

was to deploy vapid innuendo
and state-sponsored slut-shaming,

in an attempt to arouse my jealousy
and have me implicate my wife

in some imaginary wrong-doing,
then I'm afraid

you've had rather a wasted journey.

You're looking in the wrong place.

For what?

Whatever you might
be looking for.

Unless I'm wrong,

and you just wanted to fill up
the old wank bank.

In which case I'm happy to oblige.

Would you like to know
what she likes in bed?

- How often? Aggressively...
- Jeremy,

we're just trying to understand
what happened last night.

Oh, I see.

Oh, that's easy. Er, last night,

as a result of your catastrophically
poor judgment, a man died.

And now you'd like to find a way
to hold my wife responsible.

Honestly, best of luck with that.

We'll see you in court

-if we don't see you before.
-I'm sorry, what do you mean by that?

I'd have thought it fairly unambiguous.

Well...

-Thanks for that.
-Ah, been a pleasure.

I don't know about you,
but I liked him.

Well, for someone who doesn't know
anything about James Hauser, he...

He seemed to know
a lot about James Hauser.

-Yeah, he did.
-Breasts, buttocks,

rusty old wires down
the old chap. Is that a thing?

No, not in my house it's not.

-So what was he looking at?
-Sorry, guv?

I mean, when we walked in,
he was holding up an MRI to the light.

Well, er, he's a surgeon.

No, he's a heart specialist.

Why was he holding up an MRI
of someone's head?

-Could be a number of reasons.
-Name one.

Yeah, I guess that is weird.
Am I wrong, is it weird?

It's weird.

So, whose head was he looking at?

Let's get back and find out.

Eleanor?

So how are we doing?

No, actually...

-I don't want to do this. Can we stop?
-All right,

Let's crack her open, shall we?

See what's inside.

We're in.

Roseanna, purse string.

- Right.
- I'm sorry.

That's all right.

Give Heparin, please.

Scissors.

Diane, clip.

DS Silver, I need you here now.

No lies, no excuses, now.

I've got to take this.

Erm, why don't you just
go on and dig into that surgeon.

He feels wrong.

Yeah, like a kitten kebab.

George?

Something's been needling
at me since we spoke.

Oh, okay, what's that?

Do I look like a tart to you, John?

I mean, do I look like
I learned my trade

noshing off Tory MPs in public lavs?

I don't follow. What?

Why would you think you could buy me?

Honestly, it's baffling.

George, look, whatever's happening here,

all right, just... Just stop.

All right, just pump your brakes,
take your tax, and let it go.

Otherwise it's starting...
It's gonna get out of control.

Whose control? Not mine.

Now, you bring her to me, John,
then we can call it square.

I can't bring her to you, she's gone.
I don't know where she's gone.

All right?

Which is what I thought
you'd most likely say. Hold on.

George, I...

George, I am warning you...

You're warning me?

Whatever you're thinking of doing, stop.

You've got a pair of spuds on you,
I'll give you that. Ha!

George.

Stop.

That woman is a debt you owe me, John.
I want her.

I can't do what can't be done.
She's gone.

I have no idea where she is.

O//

All right, all right, all right.

"All right," what?

- I'll do it.
- You'll do what?

I'll bring her to you.

You sure now?

Just stop.

No messing.

No amusing chit-chat.

No prevari-fucking-cation.
You get this done.

It's done. I'll bring her to you.

Oh, God!

I know how much the idea's
always excited you

to do it while everyone looks on,
but that level of risk...

There was no risk.

You were aroused, sexually.

I could see it.

Now, I know how difficult it is

watching the days slip by,
wanting each one to be special,

but you have to understand

that I still have a life to live.

A career you're putting at risk.

My liberty.

Of course, sorry.

Are you having any problems with recall?

No.

Your appetite?

Well, it's a little diminished.

No instances of pica or unusual cravings
or anything?

No. Just the usual unusual cravings.

I wish there was more
I could do for you.

No one could do more.

I love you.

I love you, too.

Are you out tonight?

No. Straight home.

I'm tired.

I'll wait up for you.

Alice?

Alice?

- Penny, is it?
- Mmm.

I'm Alan, Vickie's dad.

-Oh, right! Hello.
-Hi.

Oh, is it... Is it going to fit?

Is that for the fridge?

Oh.

I don't know.

I haven't misjudged it, have I?

Anyways, she's double-parked outside,

so best crack on. Erm...

Mmm... Ninety-five, wasn't it?

-Yeah, it was.
-Er... Call it 100.

Oh, thank you.

-Look, yeah, you better come in and...
-Yeah.

...see if that's going to work.

Whoop.

- You all right?
- Yeah.

-Right, here we are.
-Ah.

Let's just get this...

Oh! Oh, God!

Babe?

Is someone going to get that?

Is anyone going to get that?

Apparently not.

Hello.

-Are you Alastair?
-No.

Er, George sent me. I am, er,

welcome home present.

Oh.

Yeah, he's right this way.

Oh, no, no, no, no, no.

I think I can take it from here, hmm?

Good luck.

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