[Alice] Ok, 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.

He'll meet you there.

[Alice] And you're sure he's ready to pay?

Monsieur Awaritefe?

[speaking in foreign language] [beeping] [engine revving] [tires screeching] [cellphone ringing] [in English] Jacob.

How'd it go?

[M. Awaritefe] It's all gone according to plan.

My men will have her diamonds by now.

Thank you.

[speaking in foreign language] Ah.

Here they are.

I've got them.

[sounds of violent fighting] [grunting] [grunting] [panting] [grunts] [police siren wailing at a distance] [knocking] [loud knocking] -[loud knocking continues] -All right, all right.

Wotcher.

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

I'm not.

I'm a bit surprised you're alive.

Well, 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, for-- oh.

[theme music playing] [Alice cries out as she is dumped on the bed] [panting] [groans] 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!

So what happened?

A big boy did it and ran away.

[phone ringing] [Alice] 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, twenty per cent 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.

[scoffs] Oh, you crack me up, George, you really do.

But I really am gonna need that money.

Or I'll take Alistair's head to the zoo and feed it to the monkeys.

Oh, no, come now.

You're not gonna do that here.

[gunshots] Ow!

You kidnapped his son and tried to do him over.

Ow!

George and I had a little chat.

-Ah?

-Well, I say chat.

-He beat the crap out of me!

-Ah!

-Ah?

-Ah.

Ah, I see-- ow!

[Alice panting] [Cornelius] Hold up, hold up.

[pounding on door] -[sighs] -[pounding continues] [Halliday] Sorry boss.

I've been reading this and it's James Hauser's psychiatric file.

Something's off.

Right, yeah.

Erm, come on in.

Come on, yeah.

[Luther] Just 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.

But did 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.

Er, 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.

[Halliday keeps talking but now indistinctly] Except in this case, someone... [Halliday keeps talking] Yeah.

But she doesn't actually mention... [door creaking] Er, Boss!

[heavy footsteps ] I think DS Halliday's onto something.

I think she probably is.

Yes.

So, erm, what's the next step?

How do we play it?

Well, it won't be easy.

Her defenses 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 weaponize.

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.

[engine revving] And you're off!

[intense music playing] Ah, sod this!

He thinks you're my weak spot.

He thinks he can hurt me by hurting you.

Bollocks.

No!

No!

[ominous music playing] [gunshots] Go and check.

[groaning] [crying out pathetically] [metal clanks] What's the rule?

[panting] Play safe.

And did you?

No.

No.

James was our one contingency.

It took me months to lay the groundwork.

And now it's thrown away, just used up; wasted.

I'm sorry.

[metal clanks] [grunts] I hope you know I can't go back to my house until this is put right.

And 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, tish.

-Shhh.

-Look at my face.

Look at it!

Ah!

What about this one?

Yeah, yeah.

Hurry up.

Just ... Ah, got it.

Ah!

Magic!

How did you do it?

Oh, 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 I 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.

[Vivien] 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; the girl on the bus.

She was 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 is a deep, obliquely placed, incised neck injury at the front side of the neck.

There are no other injuries, no hesitation cuts, no defense 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 endeavor, 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 thirty-nine 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.

-What are you doing, man?

-Oh.

[phone rings] -Hello, Boss?

-[Schenk] Benny, I need you here.

I'm sorry, boss.

I think I've caught that Noro virus.

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

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

-I need you here.

Now!

-[Benny] Then I'm on my way.

Sorry, Minty mate, I'm gonna have to chip.

[grunts] And that's it, is it?

That's police protection in this day and age?

Try not drink all the milk, eh?

[somber music playing] [phone rings and is immediately picked up] Jeremy Lake's office... I'm afraid Mr Lake's not yet in the office.

Can I take a message for you, Mrs Lake?

[Tanya] Stay close to mommy, darling.

[indistinct dialogues] OK.

Sorry about that.

Now.

Where were we last time?

-Morning.

-Morning... -Morning.

-Morning... -Morning.

-Morning... -Morning Miriam.

-Morning Jeremy.

-Mrs Lake left a message for you.

-Thank you.

Oh, and Eleanor Cadman is 15 minutes early.

Ah.

[machine beeping] [phone ringing] Eleanor.

I'm Jeremy Lake.

Has someone talked you through the procedure?

Er, no.

-Oh, may I?

-Yes.

Of course.

Yes.

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 a hundred times.

Right.

[Alice] I had to keep it.

Issues with the will.

I bet there were.

Typical mum and dad.

Didn't actually write one.

[ominous music playing] 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 two hundred 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.

You fantasize about these things.

You become enraptured with how meaningful it'll all be.

And with each repetition, the fantasy becomes more refined until one day, it's perfect.

[Alice] What you'll do.

The look in their eyes when they say it.

The reality can never measure up.

It was such an anti-climax, I almost wished they'd never done it.

That's why meeting you was such fun, you made it meaningful.

You made me glad I did it.

-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.

[heavy footsteps] 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.

No.

Yeah, look, the poor boy is 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.

[phone rings and buzzes] -I've got to go.

-More work, is it?

Uncuff him.

[sighs] [somber music playing] [Alice] If we want to disappear... I mean, really disappear... we need to liquidate these.

[somber music playing] [Alice] Why does it matter?

[female reporter on TV] He was eventually brought down by a laser stun gun.

The suspect is now helping police with their enquiries.

-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.

[car horn blaring] [mumbles] -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.

But she was there, wasn't she?

Last night, at your gaff!

Yeah.

She showed up five minutes before you did.

Oh?

So where's she been hiding all this time; the Wicked Bitch of the West?

I don't know.

And I don't care.

Oh, fair enough.

More to the point, where is she now?

You give her to me, then you and me are all square!

This is about a lot more, than 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 earn?

Everything you've worked for?

[gasps] 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 dragged me in.

And I just dragged us out, OK.

So now you can go home.

-I'm not yours to be... -Alice!

We're done!

You can go.

[tense music playing] [sinister music playing] [Alice] You're looking in the wrong direction.

Why does it matter?

About half a million people are murdered every year.

That's about ten thousand a week; fourteen hundred a day... One per minute.

That's rounding the figures, -excluding death from... -So?

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 center?

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?

[pensive music] Sorry about that.

I had to drop something off.

Oh yeah?

What?

A body?

A sofa?

A box that said, "Mind your own".

[sighs] 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.

[Luther] 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 am due in surgery shortly, so... Could we have a seat for a moment?

Do 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 did you know about your wife's patient, James Hauser?

Er, before last night?

Nothing.

So you were unaware of the, uh, 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?

Oh, absolutely.

Acute lack of interest.

They're like battery hens shitting out identical neuroses; each of them feeling different in exactly the same way.

How is 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.

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 wrongdoing, then I'm afraid you've had rather a wasted journey.

You're looking in the wrong place.

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.

Oh, 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?

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

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.

[ominous music playing] [machine beeping] [ominous music playing] [Jeremy] Eleanor... So how are we doing?

Actually, I don't want to do this.

Can we stop-- Right.

Let's crack her open, shall we?

See what's inside.

[machine beeping] [Jeremy] We're in.

Is there no purse string?

-All right.

-[male nurse] Sorry.

[machine beeping] Give heparin, please, scissors.

[ominous music playing] [doom-laden music] Line clamp.

[clears throat] -[indistinct chatters] -[telephone ringing] [tense music playing] [telephone ringing] DS Silver, I need you here.

now.

No lies.

No excuses.

Now.

[sinister music playing] [phone rings] I've got to take this.

Why don't you just go on and dig into that surgeon?

-He feels wrong.

-Yeah, like a kitten kebab.

George?

Now, something's been niggling at me since we spoke.

[Luther] Ok, 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, whatever's happening here, all right, just-- just stop, all right?

Just pump your brakes.

Take your tax and let it go, otherwise some of this-- 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.

She's gone, all right?

I don't know where she's gone, all right?

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

Hold on.

[phone camera clicks] George, I... [tense music playing] George, I'm warning you.

You're warning me?

Whatever you're thinking of doing, stop.

You've got a pair of spud on you, I'll give you that.

[scoffs] [groans] George!

[groans] [panting] That woman is the 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.

[Benny screams] All right!

All right!

All right, all right.

All right, what?

-I'll do it!

-You'll do what?

-I'll bring her to you.

-You're sure now?

[Benny screams] Just stop!

No messing.

No amusing chit-chat.

It's done.

I'll bring her to you.

I know how much the idea has 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 incidence 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.

[smashing glass] Alice?

Alice?

[sinister music playing] [sighs] [cellphone beeps] [elevator dings] [cellphone beeps] [ominous music playing] [cellphone beeps] [knocking on door] -Penny, is it?

-I'm Alan.

Vickie's dad.

-Oh, right!

Hello!

-Hi!

Oh, is it gon-- is it gonna fit?

Is that for the fridge?

Oh, I don't know!

Haven't misjudged it, have I?

Anyway, she's double parked outside so best crack on.

-Ninety-five, wasn't it?

-Yeah, it was.

-Just call it a hundred.

-Oh, thank you.

Look, yeah, you'd better come in -Yeah -and see if that's gonna work.

-Whoa!

-You all right?

Yeah.

Right.

Here we are.

Let me just stick this on.

[muffled screams] [weird music playing] [elevator dings] [music continues to play] Babe?

[doorbell rings] Someone wanna get that?

Is anyone gonna get that?

Apparently not!

[doorbell rings again] [sighs] Hello.

Are you Alistair?

No.

George sent me.

I am a welcome home present.

Oh?

Yeah, he's right this way.

[tense music playing] Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no.

I think I can take it from here, hmm?

Good luck.

[threatening music] [Alistair twitches and gurgles] ♪ ♪ [coughing] ♪ ♪ [engine revving] [grunts] [thuds] [gasps]