All language subtitles for Monochrome.2016.BluRay.720p.DTS.x264-CHD

Subtitles by explosiveskull

Brendan Kelly, I'm Agent
Walcott and this is Agent Jones,

we are officers of the British
Crime Agency special fraud unit.

This interview
is being recorded.

And I must remind you
that anything you say

can be used against you in
evidence, do you understand?

I do.

You employers D and P Bank

are accusing you of stealing
approximately £700m

and hiding it
in offshore accounts.

If that amount is confirmed, it will be
the biggest fraud in at least 20 years.

I wouldn't know.

Well, you should know...

that if we don't retrieve that
money the bank will collapse

Of course, I realize that,
it's my job that's at stake.

I don't think you give
a shit about your job

any more than you do about
those poor pensioners

who are going to spend
their final years

queuing up outside
soup kitchens.

Not my problem.

What about your girlfriend,
Emma?

What about her?

We would like to talk to her
but she's disappeared.

What do you want me to do?
I'm not her father.

You're old enough.

Is he allowed to say that?

If you don't know where
she is, then just say so.

I don't know where she is.

Despite being surrounded
by it for the last three years...

part of me was glad
it was gone.

Money, money, money...

always brings out
the worst in people.

I need to go North.

This is London darling,

most of the country
is north from here.

Kingham.

A standard to Kingham
is £22.50.

Sorry, it's been declined. Do you
want to try again with another card?

No, it was fine this morning.
Um...

Can we just try it again?

Actually, I'll walk.

If the police could be
bothered to sit outside my house all day,

I am sure they have the wherewithal
to trace my card transactions.

Then they would have found CCTV
of me getting on and off train.

I realized hitch-hiking is dangerous,
but at least it's relatively anonymous.

You know what your problem is?

Oh no, please, tell me.

You've not drive,
no backbone,

no integrity.
You're pathetic!

I'm pathetic?
At least I can read the papers

in the morning without moaning
on and on about Damien Hurst!

Go on, then. Fuck off!
You little shit!

Fuck!

Are you following me?

Um, no...

OK, yes, I was.

What do you want?

I'm looking for work.

Fuck off I don't have any.

I can work for free. As long
as you put me up and feed me.

I can cook clean,
work the land, whatever.

You'll do all that
for nothing?

As long as I'm fed.

You're not my type.

And what type is that?

The type with a cock and balls
swinging between his legs.

Sorry, can't help you there.

Giles has gone off with my car.

With all that shouting
I forgot to get the bread.

If you go to the village
to get a loaf,

I will split it.

Roger's place was beautiful.

It must have been
300 years old.

He'd lived there for years.

A trophy from his glory days.

Well, that was
a bloody good sandwich.

Next time go easy
on the barbecue sauce.

It's full of sugar.
Diabetic.

OK.

Take a seat.

Do you know what I do?

I'm an artist.

Are you any good?

Of course, I fucking am!

How do you think I paid
for this pile, mm?

Giles, the poofy little drama queen,
who still hasn't brought my car back,

was my assistant.

Ostensibly that meant he was
meant to work in the studio,

paintings and sculptures, etc.,

but the reality was he, uh,

he cooked, cleaned,
fucked occasionally.

But if you are willing to
work for nothing,

you can stay here
until I find an assistant.

How does that sound?

OK.

Don't sound
so sodding enthusiastic. Mm?

I'll be in
the garden studio.

Find something that needs doing and
do not disturb me till dinner.

What did you say
your name was?

I didn't.

Don't be cute what is it?

- Tara.
- Tara what?

Tara... Jones.

Really?

OK, whatever.

My name is Roger Daniels.

Look me up.
You'll be impressed!

I was supposed
to be chopping wood,

but, to be honest,
my mind was on other things.

Oh, how are you settling in?

Fine, thanks.

I'm off to the pub.

Have a good one.

Don't wait up.

Morning.

I thought you were
cooking my breakfast.

Sorry, overslept.

Sit down.

There.

I picked up this paper
in a bar last night.

Open it.

That's you, isn't it?

No?

Come off it.
Tara Jones?

I would have thought you would have come
up with a more interesting pseudonym.

According to this newspaper, report
your boyfriend is responsible

for the biggest pension fraud

since Robert Maxwell
jumped off his luxury yacht.

It isn't me.

Seventy million quid hidden
in offshore bank accounts,

and your boyfriend won't
tell where they are.

It's not me.

Well, I tell you what,

I shall call my friend, Kevin.

He's the local sergeant in the
village, you can explain it to him.

Hello, sergeant Davis, please.

Yes, I'll hold.

Hello Kev, how are you?

OK, it is me.

Yeah, Kev, there's something
I need to talk to you about.

Please.

Yeah, I am still here.

No, it's nothing urgent, I just
wanted to catch up over a drink.

Yeah, lovely, yeah.

Friday after work.

OK, OK.
Love to Sal. Bye.

It's nothing to do with me.

Brendan is a law unto himself.

He didn't talk about business.

Why would he? It's dull.

Well, that's up to the police
to decide, isn't it?

How can I prove that
I don't know anything?

I lived with him for four years,
they'll just assume

that I'm covering for him
and lock me up.

OK.

So what to do, Emma.

I'll leave.

You don't
have to tell anyone.

I don't want you to leave.

I can't manage by myself.

I want you to stay here
until I find a replacement.

Well, OK, then,
I'll stay.

Tomorrow morning
you will rise at six

and chop wood
till eight.

Then, prepare breakfast,
then,

you can clean this house
from top to bottom.

I'll make a list of all the jobs
that need to be done

on the land
and the out buildings.

If I see you idle
I will call Kevin.

If you lie to me again,
I'll call Kevin.

If you attempt to leave...

You'll call Kevin.

So you understand?

Yes.

Good.

Now, get back
to fucking work.

OK,
let's crack on with it.

I don't know what
I'm looking at, sorry.

Try now.

Synesthesia,

stimulation in one sense
involuntarily activates another.

- In English.
- His senses mix up.

He can hear color
and see sound.

He also has spatial
sequence Synesthesia.

Where you see the number two,
Gabriel sees red.

Remembering long numbers
and specific dates becomes

considerably easier when associated
with certain colors and sizes.

So stop me
if I'm misunderstanding,

but what you're suggesting
is employ a freak

to catch a lunatic?

Well, I wouldn't quite
use those terms,

but yes,
there is some logic in that.

- Is it a problem, this synes...
- Synesthesia.

I mean, does it make life
difficult day to day?

No, he can cope with it.
Although, he does seem to have

issues with OCD.

His application form
is impeccable.

Can you give him medication?

I'm a criminal psychologist
not a psychiatrist.

I don't prescribe medication,
but I also don't necessarily see

his condition as
a disadvantage for the role.

He was head and shoulders
above the other candidates.

We need someone who can think
differently and he can do that.

Gabriel Lenard
is my recommendation.

Your call.

But he's your responsibility.

He reports personally to you.

I was born
in a 1930's London semi.

I did move out briefly,

but in the end, I had to go back
home after I was made redundant

as a local police detective.

I even lived with
a girlfriend for a while.

She insisted on washing
her hair in the sink

and clogging up the drain.

It was disgusting.
Made me gag.

In the end, I had to call out
a plumber to unblock it.

I don't know why you are still so
infatuated with these old books.

You spend all your time rearranging
them and they're still a mess.

No, need to shout.

They don't appear ordered to you
but I assure you there's method.

They also don't need dusting.

The room is spotless
without your assistance.

This is my house
and I'll clean it if I like.

If it's any more sterile we'll need
bio-suits just to watch the TV.

At least I know where I get it from.

You certainly don't get it
from your father.

That man had an allergy to
housework, God rest his lazy arse.

Oh, a letter arrived for you
when you was in the shower.

Looks official.

So there
it was, in black and white.

An invite to work
at the country's

first National Crime Agency,
the BCA.

Which was great, only I had no idea
what the job actually entailed.

So this is the first section of
the building to be operational.

The Agency Director,
Martha Walker, OBE,

wanted to create a space for individuals
to share ideas and information.

Now, we believe this to be
the future of crime fighting.

The Home Office created the British
Crime Agency to combat organized crime,

terrorism, human trafficking,

cyber-crime, fraud,
child exploitation.

Making us the first proper pan-regional
law enforcement agency in the country.

Which is why the media have already
dubbed us the British FBI.

Director Walker expects
transparency and accountability.

In essence, this is
open source crime fighting.

You'll be all right.

We are expanding.

Mind your step.

This is you.

The boss wants you
to report directly to me.

Here's my mobile.

OK.

Don't you want to write it down
or program it into your phone?

No, it's OK, I've seen it.

Suit yourself. Meet you in
the briefing area in 15 minutes.

Take a seat.

What's the Investigative
Psychology Unit?

That my friend
is your new department.

The Behavioral Analysis Unit
at Quantico

is a world leader
at solving complex crimes.

Especially those such as cyber-crime,
fraud and multiple murder.

The Director wants to
replicate this in the UK

so that next year she can
ask for a bigger budget.

Just to be clear, you want me
to hunt down serial killers?

Potentially.

Regional law enforcement
has become lazy.

They are too reliant on
tracing mobile phone numbers

and looking through
credit card statements.

But what if the perpetrators
are smart.

Those digital breadcrumbs
are swept away.

That's where you come in.

We want you to see the things
we can't.

We want you to hunt them down
before they know we are looking.

Well, that was delicious
again, Emma.

Now, don't go running off after
dinner, I have bought you a present.

I have to go up
to London tomorrow.

I'm making a speech
at a gallery.

I need to focus.

I can't be worried
about you wandering off.

What are you doing?

I told you. It's a present.

It's a GPS tracker.

Used for pets mainly,
stops them getting lost.

I don't see why it wouldn't
work equally as well with you.

If you stray more than
500 meters from the house

it calls my
mobile phone.

And if I take it off?

Oh, it breaks a circuit
and I get the call.

Night night.

Hate is like
a bacterial disease.

It grows exponentially
until it's eradicated.

Err, firstly, thank you all
so much for coming this evening.

Err, when I first started this
journey about five years ago

I had just moved from my home
in London to the countryside...

To my mind
he was the most talented artist

of his generation.

His work with
abstract imagery was unique.

My condition meant I experienced
his paintings very differently.

I often wondered
if anyone else understood

how incredible
his paintings sounded.

Err, I did a year,
I couldn't stand the place.

Sorry?
Would you sign this for me?

Yeah, sure. Who is it for?

Me... to Gabriel.

I just love what you do,
I love your work.

It's a huge inspiration.

Well, why don't you buy one?

You get an autograph for free
at the bottom.

I'd love to. They're, um,
out of my league, unfortunately.

- Yeah.
- Thank you...

You know, I found this...

I'd honestly never
met anyone who ate quite so much.

His diabetes was getting worse and he was
having to take more and more insulin.

Emma!

Emma!

Roger repulsed me.

Whenever I asked him about
finding a new assistant

he always mumbled some excuse or
another about the failing economy.

It was such bollocks.

He might not have been
the high profile artist

he was 30 years ago, but
paintings were still flying out.

I'm here now with Janet Davies who is
a victim of the D&P Bank collapse.

Now Janet, what has the bank actually
said to you about your pension?

Not a lot, I'm lucky if I can
speak to them at all.

If they don't collect the money then I
won't have a pension from next month.

It's obviously a story I think we're
going to be hearing a lot more about,

but, for now,
back to you in the studio.

Hello, Ma'am.

I'm Gabriel Lenard.

Bear with me, Lenard.

Director Martha Walker.

Call me Director or Walker,
I'm easy.

I apologize for my dress, I didn't
know that we'd be meeting today.

What?
Oh, I couldn't care less.

So, how did you fund
the Psychology Department?

It's unofficial.

I'm funding you out of my
personal entertaining budget.

So for the time being,
you're a department of one.

How long have I got
to bring in results?

Am I on probation?

Lenard,
we're all on probation.

If we don't give a good return on investment the
Home Office could shut us down by Christmas.

Emma!

Emma!

Emma!

My white spirit there's more
in the tool shed.

Off you pop.

After two
months of being humiliated...

I'd had enough.

I needed an exit strategy.

Have you seen this?

One of the UK's best known
artists was found dead

at his Oxfordshire home
on Tuesday.

Police are unwilling at this
time to confirm cause of death.

Although he had suffered from
ill health for several years

it is known that his lover and assistant
Giles Becks had recently left him.

Suicide has not been ruled out until
post-mortem results return tomorrow.

I met him last month.

Good for you. Why is
this of interest to us?

Because I got curious and ordered the
incident report from Oxfordshire CID.

They checked for prints,
didn't find a single thing.

Why would you get
excited about that?

No, I mean not a single print.
Not even one of his.

OK, granted that this
sounds irregular,

but what are the local police
doing about it?

Nothing. As far as
they are concerned

he either died
from lack of medication

or committed suicide
by taking too much.

Are the family pushing
for an investigation?

Nope. He was the only child
of only children.

He never married or had
any children of his own.

- Friends?
- Bit of a recluse

according to the villagers.

OK, go and check it out.

I'll square this
with Oxford CID,

let them know
you're coming.

Look Gabe, this doesn't sound
like much to me

so don't piss off the locals
and try not to get a bad rep

before you've fled the nest.

Emma!

Emma!
Breakfast is at 8am.

There you are.

Where the bloody hell
have you been?

You know how busy
I am at the moment.

Sorry.

Uh, I've made you fruit
and plain yoghurt today,

doctors' orders.

It's like living
with my bloody mother...

Smell that?
Smells like paint thinner.

Water. Please.

My head's throbbing.

Oh, you missed a call.

It's from the GPS collar.

It wants a dissolution.

Why don't you just go?

Untie me. Fuck off.

No, no, I don't think so.

You are not getting off
that easy.

Besides, I can't trust you
as far as I can throw you,

which, in fairness is from
that chair to the floor.

What are you going to do?

Right now?

Nothing.

Night night.

Emma!

Emma?

I need the toilet.

Smells like you
already been.

How long do you intend
to carry this thing on?

As long as it takes for you
to eat your breakfast.

I haven't had my insulin,

I'm becoming hyperglycemic.

Well, it's a good job I've
prepared your medication then.

Can I have my injection?

I can't do everything,

I am cooking your favorite
food, bacon and eggs.

Why two?

Because one of them
contains a special treat.

What is it?

Well, I can't tell you that
it would spoil the game.

I shan't eat either.

Then you'll starve.

I'm a famous artist,
there'll be an investigation.

Well, I guess someone
might come and rescue you.

Oh no, hang on.

You don't have any friends.

You are such an abhorrent,

antisocial, arrogant cunt

you haven't had a visitor
in two months.

You can't do this to me.

Watch me.

I've-I've got cash

in the house,
I-I can pay you.

I have no interest in money,

you should know that by now.

Please.

I'm going out.

Your turn to do
the washing up.

Gabriel wants to reopen
the Roger Daniels case.

And what do local CID
think about that?

They don't think
anything about it.

As far as they're concerned
it was death my natural causes.

But you think differently?

I'm certain someone was staying in
the house with him before he died.

I have spoken to a witness who
remembers talking to a young woman

and I have found human hair
with collaborating DNA.

I suspect whoever she was murdered
Daniels and then disappeared.

How could she have done that when the pathologists
report indicates he had hypoglycemia?

Hypoglycemia is a lack
of glucose in the blood.

Diabetics take insulin to regulate
it but if you were to take too much

it could lead to seizures
and ultimately death.

The evidence suggested that
our unidentified house guest

poisoned Daniels with insulin.

She literally gave him
an overdose of his own medicine.

It's all in this report.

Nothing was taken,
there's no apparent motive

and cause of death
is still unclear.

I'm sure I don't need to
remind you, detective,

that absence of evidence
is not evidence.

I'm back.

I'm glad you're home.

This all sounds
a bit serious.

I think you should
try moving out again.

I thought you liked
having me around?

I do, I really do, but
I think it would be good

for you to have
your own place again.

- Get your confidence back.
- I'm feeling much better now.

Exactly.

Truth be known,
I'm worried about the money.

This job isn't secure.

If I don't results soon

they're going to close down
the department.

In which case you'll need
to find a new job.

Life is about risk and reward.

You can't assume
the worst all the time.

That's no way to live.

I don't want to be a
disappointment to you again.

Hey, you need to stop
thinking like that.

If I go, will you be OK?

I've managed on my own
long enough,

I'll be fine.

OK, I'll start looking.

I'll find somewhere near by.

- No, Jack, you're doing it wrong!
- No, I'm not!

I changed my name again
and hitched north just to keep moving.

As long as I kept up momentum
I didn't have to stop

and think about
how shit my life was.

That's when I had
the pleasure of lodging

with John and Caroline Hughes.

Property developers and real
estate agents from Birmingham.

Come on, Laura!

Or at least
that's what they claimed to be.

Careful now...
Gently, gently...

They left Birmingham when
the money started rolling in.

And get the shopping,
will you?

Give us a hand with this chair,
for goodness sake.

- Come on!
- The nouveau riches are always the worst.

If they came from nothing
and bettered themselves,

what's wrong
with everyone else?

I spoke with John today, Laura,

and he thinks you should be
paid minimum wage.

We're breaking
the law otherwise.

Cupboard.

I'm happy to help out.

Well, considering
my current condition,

that's obviously
very kind,

but John doesn't want
the inland revenue

turning up and making a fuss.

Fridge.

So, do you have
a bank account?

No.

Well, why not?

I don't think I've ever met
anyone without a bank account!

The banks are corrupt,
so's the government.

Money brings nothing but
unhappiness, so I gave it up.

Well, I think
that's just ridiculous.

How are you supposed to
live without an income?

Well, you feed me, put a roof
over my head, that's all I need.

You need to be paid.

Thanks for caring.

It's the law.

I've spoken with Laura.

- About what, sorry?
- About taking a wage.

Only she doesn't believe in
money and refuses to be paid.

Ohh. OK, Laura,

well, if the tax man
comes knocking,

we'll tell them you are
squatting in the tool shed.

Whatever.

I didn't want
to sleep in the house...

it brought back
memories of Roger.

This is Brendan Kelly.

I'm sure he needs
no introduction here.

Arrested four months ago
but despite our best efforts

to keep him in custody,
he's just been bailed.

We suggested he was
a flight risk,

but the judge disagreed as long
as he surrendered his passport.

However, there is
a silver lining.

He may well try to recover
some of the stolen funds,

or contact his girlfriend,
Emma Rose,

who we would dearly
love to question

when she finally
pops up on our radar.

At the very least,
he could use the internet

to access
his offshore accounts.

Yes, Dean?

Assuming he uses a secure
internet connection,

how will we ever know?

Ahh. Because SSR encryption

is no longer a problem to decode

thanks to some aggressive
lobbying by Director Walker,

the Home Office have approved GCHQ
surveillance services to our department.

Intercepting online bank services
is just a phone call away.

Can I help?

I was-I was just walking...

What is it
you actually do here?

Sorry?

Why are you here?

It's my...
it's my mother.

I've looked you up.
Your CV is like Swiss cheese.

When I asked around to find out what
is it you're actually employed to do,

nobody seemed to know.

My department is on
a need to know basis...

Stop! Stop.

I've heard it.

If I find out that you are
prying on my department

on behalf of the Home Office inspectorate,
I will be mightily fucked off.

Do you understand?

I...

Right, we're going out now.

What time will you
be done there?

I dunno. Three hours?

Really?

But the varnish
is making the room smell,

can't you hurry it up a bit?

Not unless you want
varnish all over your windows?

Oh no, don't do that,

you'll have to waste
even more time cleaning it off.

Just get on with it and
make sure you're done

by the time we get back, right?

Motherfucker, motherfucker!

Fuck! Fuck you!

Motherfucker!
Fuck!

Have either of you ladies
got a light?

I have.

The best thing about smoking
at these events

is you have got an excuse
not to talk to the boss.

- Do you know what I mean?
- Yup.

- Then why aren't you smoking?
- Because I don't smoke.

Then why are you
standing out here in the cold?

So I don't have to talk
to my boss.

Good answer.

So are you from
the hedge fund party?

What is it about
the designer suit

and ludicrously expensive watch
that gave you that idea?

I've got to go back inside.

Something I said?

She's an anti-capitalist.

What about you?

I am economically agnostic.

What the fuck does that mean?

I don't believe in money unless
I can see it with my own eyes.

You don't believe in it? Wouldn't
that make you an atheist?

No, I'm not saying
it doesn't exist.

It's just that I want to see
some proof before I commit.

Here's my number.

Ring me tomorrow and
I'll show you

the pyramid tower
at Canary Warf.

It' a bit like, um,
St. Paul's Cathedral.

Except we don't sing hymns

and we don't wear
poofy dresses.

Laura,
have you seen my laptop?

Err, no sorry.

But you must have seen it.
I left it in the office,

I always leave it in the office.

It was there last night,
maybe John has it?

Why would John have it?

He wouldn't even know
how to switch it on.

Or maybe you were burgled?

Seriously,
that is not even funny.

Maybe you could just
help find it?

But I don't know where it is.

- Then look for it.
- You look for it!

Don't get cheeky with me
young lady.

God,
if I was your mother...

Don't you ever mention
my mother, ever.

Why? Did she kick you out for
being an insolent little bitch?

- Fuck you.
- Find the laptop.

I don't know where it is!

Did you take the laptop?

No.

Then who did?

I don't know.

How about I call the police and
you can talk to them about it?

Caroline!

Laura!

Caroline!

Hello?

Gabriel, it's me, Randall.

Buzz me in.

How many stairs?

The higher up you are the less
likely you are to get burgled.

Really?

Think about it, who would
want to carry that TV

down ten flights of stairs?

Fair point.

It's a great scarf.

So what do you think?

It's nice,
except for the lift thing.

I brought you a newspaper.

I thought you might be a bit out
of the loop with moving house.

Have a look
at the lead story.

I've cleared it
with Warwickshire CID,

you're expected
there this afternoon.

Gabriel Lenard, BCA.

DC Wilson,
Warwickshire, CID.

Follow me.

OK, so there's
not much to go on, it' clean.

I mean, the cupboard door is cracked,
which seems a little bit out of place

when you consider how smart
the rest of the house is.

So, you on the internship?

Are you actually getting paid?

There was a fight in here.

Yeah, we think so,

although how the bodies
were moved from here

to the next field
is anyone's guess.

Shit!

Oh!

If you want paying,
take our money.

I keep £5000 in
the bedside drawer.

I don't want it.

Ah!

They were buried alive
with those land deeds.

They were land bankers.

What is that?

You take a rural plot
with absolutely no hope

of planning permission.

Then sell it at
a huge mark-up claiming

it's a prime development site.

Anyway, it looks like they owed
money left, right and center.

The weird thing is, aside from
the car, nothing else was taken,

not even the cash
inside the house.

Computers
are like digital fingerprints,

the information
stored on them is unique.

Losing a laptop is like giving
away the keys to your house.

Randall?

It's me,
I think I've found her.

I've decided
I'm going to take you shopping.

If you're going to hang out here
you need to look the part.

What happens when my girls come
over and you look like that, eh?

I had
only been there a few days

and I was sick to death

of her endless small talk.

Oh God, I don't know why
I even bother with prosecco,

champagne is just
so much nicer.

She was like
one of those annoying lap dogs,

that continuously yaps
at nothing.

...clothes, and I'd like
you to cheer up, please,

so let's have a little smile,
yeah? A little smile.

OK, my driver's here.

Make sure it's super tidy when
I get back in case I get lucky.

Pamela De'Lagua,
fucking ridiculous name.

All of her post was addressed
to Judith Barnes.

By this point
I had noticed something

all my wealthy employers
had in common.

A: they loved to boss
others about, i.e.: me,

and B: they can't resist
a bargain.

And I was free.

It's like the more money
they had,

the less
they wanted to spend.

Morning, detective!

Coffee's on its way.

Emma Rose.

The DNA on the Hughes' keyboard
matches the DNA

of the hair found
at the artist's house.

She has one friend,
Brendan Kelly.

Remind me
why I know that name.

He's the pension fraud guy responsible
for the D&P bank collapse.

She's his other half, currently
wanted for questioning by us.

When you say us
you mean Agent Walcott?

Unfortunately.

Why do you say that?

We didn't get off
to the best of starts.

Working with other departments
is all part of the job.

I'm not sure
he sees it that way.

Walker hired Walcott
personally.

He was one of the richest
stock brokers in London

until he was barred
from trading.

He knows the city inside out,
every trick,

every loophole in the system.
Talk to him,

offer him what you know,
see what you get back.

In the meantime, I'll arrange
a meeting with the Director

and see if we can
make this official.

Happy?

Yeah.

Good boy.

I'd done everything I could
to stay away from town centers and CCTV.

I didn't see how I could
get out of this though.

Oh. That's almost there.

Clara what is going on
with that collar?

Clara?

Sorry.

Who else do you think
I am talking to?

What's this?

A present from someone.

It looks tacky. Men aren't
interested in girls who look cheap.

Then why are we
shopping here then?

Hey, most women I know would
kill to be taken out shopping.

You should be grateful.

Thank you for
taking me shopping.

Enough cheek, OK?

All my girls are coming
at the weekend

and I need you to
behave yourself.

Whatever.

Don't whatever me, child.

Show me up and
you're out on your ear!

What the fuck
are you looking at?

I was wondering
if we could have a quick chat?

Sit down.

I have some information
regarding the Kelly fraud.

Well, I'm listening.

I found Emma Rose,
the girlfriend.

Oh right, where is she?

She's in Warwickshire,
or at least she was there.

I have evidence to suggest she
murdered John and Caroline Hughes.

OK.

We already knew that
she was there

because DNA found at the scene
was a positive match

to DNA
at Kelly's apartment.

However, just because
you've been at the same place

at some point in the past, well,
that doesn't make her a murderer.

What about the land-banking?

This couple ripped off a few
hundred grand, they're small time.

The Kelly case is completely
different for two reasons.

Firstly, that man is currently hiding
over £700m in stolen pension fund...

£700m? I had no idea
it was that much.

Nor do the public, yet,

but when what little remains
in that fund is gone

and thousands of old dears can't
afford their heating bills,

the shit will hit the fan.

I know it, Kelly knows it.

Secondly,
and most importantly,

our glorious leader
is on my case 24/7.

If we don't crack this soon
the agency will be blamed,

the government embarrassed,
and the Home Office,

well, they're gonna cut
all non-essential personal,

i.e.: you.

All the more reason
to find her then.

There is no "we"

and even if you did
find her then what?

You don't have a department,
you don't have any back up.

This is not your case,

so stay out of it.

Hey Gabe,
working the late shift, eh?

I've been looking through
the motorway CCTV you sent,

she takes the Range Rover
up the M6,

then down the A51 near Chester

and then we lose it.

She leaves London, goes to
Daniels' house in Oxford,

then a few months later she's at
the Hughes' place in Warwickshire

and now we know
she's in Cheshire.

I've spoken to the Director.
Walker is unconvinced.

She doesn't see the connection
or the motives for the crimes.

It's obvious, it's revenge.

She targets the wealthy,
yet takes nothing from them.

Why would she do that?

OK, I was playing
devil's advocate.

I agree it's
an interesting theory

but if you're right about her
becoming a serial killer

then you know
she won't stop.

That's what worries me.

You realize Cheshire is notorious
for wealthy football players.

We could circulate
her photo around the clubs.

We could, but there's
a dozen teams in the area,

not to mention the retired
players still resident there.

East Gate Street in Chester
town, famous for shopping,

we could pass the photo around and see if
it rings any bells with the retailers.

I have a better idea,
we could look through the CCTV.

What? Chester town center but
you don't have a confirmed date.

It would be like searching for a dead
blade of grass on a football pitch.

Not for me it won't, I just
need access to the network.

Here's to the future!

Pamela held an
ex-Wives And Girlfriends party.

Most of her WAG friends
had been dumped

by their football boyfriends
for younger models.

Not Pamela. She slept with
half her husband's teammates,

then divorced him citing his
drinking as unreasonable behavior.

Bit rich coming from
a high functioning alcoholic.

Still, didn't stop her from
walking away with the house

and millions of pounds
in a settlement.

I think that's something
everybody agrees on.

Yeah.

He did, but you know,
I did suffer.

I didn't
share Walker's reservations.

It seemed obvious to me,

footballers earn obscene wages
by anyone's standard.

Who'd make a better victim
than that?

A footballer's wife.

The only idiots worse than
the men being paid

being paid to kick around
a pig's bladder

are the vain bitches
who sit at their side

looking vacuous.

Shit.

So did she just show up
right on your doorstep?

Yeah,
she looked like a little gypo.

I'd have told her
to sling her hook.

Well, I did, but then she
said she'd work for free,

said she hates money.

Who hates money?

I fucking love it.
The more the better.

Especially if you don't
have to work for it!

I'll drink to that!

Ah.

Another one bites the dust.
More champers.

That was quick.

Watch your mouth.

Cheeky little cow.

Rich people always
have well stocked medicine cabinets

because they can afford
private healthcare.

And doctors on the take
always make sure

their clients get more than they
need, whenever they need it.

She had everything,

Amitriptyline, Prozac,
Tramadol, Diazepam.

Ohh, here we go.

Gabe.

I've found her.
She's with another woman.

I've emailed you the image.

OK, give me a moment
to log on.

Who is it?

It's nothing,
go back to sleep.

Diazepam.

That's Valium to you and me.

No, self-respecting
desperate house-wife

leaves home without it.

Randall.

Gabe, you're in luck.

She's a footballer's wife,
although since her divorce

she's more famous
for courting the tabloid press.

According to the electoral
register, she lives alone.

Sounds perfect.

Definitely. Listen,

I'm going back to bed. I suggest
you call it a night, too.

Let's pick this up
in the morning.

Thanks.

It's Detective Lenard. I need
an address and phone number.

Shall I get that?

Oh, leave it,

what sort of rude bastard
calls at this time.

Stop looking so miserable.

Why do you always
look so pissed off?

Let's cheer her up.

Give her a makeover.

Come here, sweetheart.

Fuck off.

Don't tell me to fuck off.

I'm only trying
to make you happy.

I'll hold her.

That's better.

I think I'm gonna be sick.

All gone.

What now, girls?

How about we play
a party game?

You win.

Who's next?

What do you think?

I think you ladies
talk too much shit.

Wouldn't you agree?

Pam?

Yeah,
we do do that, don't we?

Cheer up, girls.

You'll all be winners
in the end.

Dean-o, late call man.

You are fucking joking.

And Lenard's sure it's her?
Where is he?

Right, listen, listen,
do not call anyone else,

OK?
I'll go myself.

Tell him to sit tight,
do not to intervene.

Is that clear?

Get out of the way!
Go on, fucking move!

I'm going to call
an ambulance.

I need you to stay calm
and everything will be OK.

Fuck!

By the time I arrived
the suspect had already left.

I found Lenard in the back room
with the victims.

I gave him very clear
instructions not to engage

with the suspect but, unfortunately,
that order fell on deaf ears.

And this was after you specifically
asked him to stay off your case?

Yes, Ma'am.

OK, leave him to me.

In the meantime,
the Home Office have been on.

D&P bank can't hold out
any longer.

They're going to the wall
in the next few days.

If I had more time with Kelly
I could sort it.

The time has passed.

When the public find out
the full extent of the debt,

there could be a run
on all the banks.

Nobody wants another recession,
especially the Prime Minister.

I don't know
what more I can do.

Find Kelly's girlfriend. Lenard seems
to think she's worth pursuing.

I want you
to bring her in.

OK.

The hunt continues
for Emma Rose,

the suspected serial killer wanted
across three counties for murder.

Dubbed the Countryside Killer,
she was last seen a week ago,

here, at the country estate of
Pamela De'Lagua in Cheshire.

With at least four
confirmed victims,

a national woman hunt
is now underway and with it,

a race to ensure there's
no further loss of life.

Morning, Gabe.
How's the arm?

Sprained,
it could be worse.

I'm afraid it is.
Have you seen today's papers?

The media are reporting on a wave of
sympathy for your new best friend.

It seems the public feel that the rich
have had it coming for far too long.

She's becoming a celebrity.

So it's okay murder
innocent people

so as long as
they've made a few quid?

It's ridiculous

but since when did responsible
reporting sell newspapers?

How's Walker taking it?

What do you think?

She wants to see you
and she's not a happy woman.

Wait, wait. Whoa.

After you.

It's only me, Brendan.

On your way, darlin'.
We need to talk.

You better do as he says.

It's a bit fucking dramatic,
isn't it?

What year is this Glenfarclas?

Mm... I don't know. '61?

Well, if you don't know, why did
you spend 800 quid on it?

You could have got a '71
for half the price.

Well, now I know.

Knowledge is
a powerful thing, Brendan.

I bumped into your crazy bitch
of a girlfriend.

Or I should say ex-girlfriend
now she's a suspected murderer.

What exactly does
she know about us?

Nothing. I kept my mouth shut
like we agreed.

I think you're full of shit.

Says the bent copper.

It's not a fucking joke!

There's new guy at work, erm,

Gabriel Lenard.

He's on my case.

He almost had her in custody.

I had to let her go.

And why did you do that?

What was I supposed to do?

Strangle her in broad daylight

whilst Lenard took notes?

Half the police force
in England are looking for her,

and my boss wants me to
bring her in for questioning.

I need to find her, preferably
with a weapon in her hands

so I can claim self-defense.

Well... I haven't seen her
since she left here.

You haven't spoken to her?

No. Her phone's dead.

No email,
Facebook messages?

Seriously, nothing.

Why don't you find her?

I take care of the finance;

you stop the shit
hitting the fan.

Like we agreed.

Listen pal,

I am the only person between
you and a lifetime of celibacy,

so put your fucking
thinking cap on

and have an intelligent guess
as to where she might be.

Erm...

She could be at her Dad's in Devon.
It's in my book.

I don't know how it worked
in your last job,

but I'd like you
to explain to me,

as you understand it,
the correct protocol

for searching a property and
arresting a murder suspect.

Discuss it with my supervisor,

obtain a search warrant,
and then assemble a team.

OK, so clearly you understand attempting to
arrest a potentially dangerous criminal,

on your own,
in a remote location is not

the way
we do things here.

- No, ma'am.
- And you realize

that impulsive behavior
can endanger life

and negatively impact
criminal procedure?

Yes, ma'am.

Well, I'm glad
we agree on something.

You're suspended
until further notice.

Leave me your ID
on the way out.

You know, I did.
I asked for back up.

- And Walcott did nothing.
- I realize that.

You saved someone's life.

You'd think that should
count for something.

Mum. Mum.

Mum, it's me. It's Gabe.

I need an ambulance, please.

How is she?

She had a heart attack.

They said she's stable,
at least for now.

I guess that's something.

Look, I'm sorry
to raise this now,

but the game has changed.

He was a stockbroker with a country
estate on the south coast.

Emma Rose breaks
into his house

and she blows him in half
with his own shotgun.

Did she take the gun?

It looks so.

I heard that Walcott thinks
that she might be trying

to contact her father
at his farm,

so he's coordinating
an armed police team

to roadblock
the entire county.

We'll soon find her.

I should go.

Don't forget,
you're suspended.

If you're caught anywhere
near her you could be arrested

for perverting
the course of justice.

I'll keep my head down.

Gabe,

I don't care how high
the stakes are,

do not get caught
in the middle of a gun fight.

I hope you've all
been explained the situation.

As an agent of the BCA I'm
now your commanding officer,

meaning do not take any action
without my authority.

You do not shoot,
you do not arrest.

Upon confirmation of the target,
you hold back and await my orders.

Do you understand?

Yes, sir.

Can I see your license,
please?

Rose hill Farm, this is it.

Wait!

Now put your hands where
I can see them and turn around.

I-I was just...

Sorry sir,

I'm sure
you can understand,

given the circumstances,

we're just being
extra vigilant.

Not a problem.

Glad to see
you're on the ball.

Nothing's been touched
since her mother died.

I lost Emma that day too.

It was like a bright light
was just switched off.

Then she went away,
I think to London.

I'm sorry. Must have been
a difficult time.

What'll happen to her?

I don't know.

I guess it depends
if I find her first

or the firearms unit.

Oh, she kept her personal
stuff in the drawer.

We're sorry,

your call cannot be
completed as dialed.

I need to track
a mobile phone.

- Excuse me.
- Hey.

Have you any idea
where this is?

Sorry to bother you. Have
you any idea where this is?

It's down there.

There's
that cliché about your life

flashing before you
in those final seconds.

Like a video tape stuck
in a super-fast rewind.

That didn't happen to me.

All I could think about
was my mother.

I'd let her down again.

It's funny, isn't it?

How you can even think about

something irrelevant like that
when your life's in danger.

I thought of my mother
every time I took a life.

And with each one I took,

my memory of her faded.

You caused it, didn't you?
The accident.

My friends
at school had real lives.

They played in the park,
they went to the cinema,

- watched TV.
- I'm trying!

My mother worked me to the bone
almost from the day I could walk.

- It's stuck, I can't move it.
- You stupid girl!

We had no
money, the farm was failing

and I guess she
took it out on me.

It felt like she blamed me
just for being born.

...you!

Fuck you!

There were no pictures
of your mother at your house.

Your Dad had hidden them.

He was hiding himself
from the truth.

What father could believe
his sweet little girl

could do something
that bad.

I don't remember my father.

How come?

He died when I was a baby.

You want me to
apologize in sympathy?

That would be
the standard etiquette.

Please,
don't feel obliged.

Was he sick?

He was murdered.

If someone murdered my dad

I'd make sure it was
the last thing they ever did.

They never found who did it.

You can't avenge yourself
on the anonymous.

Then I'd look for them.

- What if he deserved it?
- Did he?

I don't know.
I didn't meet him.

What about you're mum?
Doesn't she care?

Of course, she does.

But it was a long time ago,
she focused her energy on me.

Tried to raise me
as best she could.

Well, I'd never do that,
not with my mother.

Even after everything
I've done,

her voice still echoes in
my head every time I'm alone.

British Crime Agency.
I'm in a bit of a hurry.

Devon SFO have a confirmed
sighting three miles west.

Good luck.

According to this ID, you're
a Human Resources director.

And?

You're not law enforcement.

I'm BCA. Do you want
to talk my boss?

You can call her if you want,
sir, but I don't answer to her.

She's the most senior copper
in the country.

This is ridiculous.

What's your badge number?

Would you like to speak
with her?

Do you keep a photo
of your mother in the locket?

All those nightmares...

are locked away.

Some memories
are too precious to keep secret.

Some memories
are better off lost.

I live without money
for months.

People should realize they'd
be better off without it.

Where are you going?

Emma.

Emma.

Giving in isn't the same
as giving up.

Emma!

Emma.

Mr. Kelly!

Thank you for attending.

Today marks a significant turning
point for the British Crime Agency.

We have recovered the body
of suspected murderer Emma Rose,

otherwise known as
the Countryside Killer.

She was discovered by
one of our officers hiding

near the small town
of Ilfracombe in Devon.

Unfortunately, the officer
was unable to capture her alive,

meaning the relatives of the
victims will be denied a trial

and an explanation
for their loss.

However, the officer did manage
to obtain crucial information

leading to the recovery
of the missing pension funds

in the Kelly fraud case.

At this time we believe
the funds are untouched,

and total in excess of
seven hundred million pounds.

I'll take your questions now.

Yes.

I'd be lying if I said
I'm not disappointed.

I suspended you
for being reckless,

and not only do you resume
work on the case,

you repeat the behavior
endangering your own life.

Sorry, ma'am.

- How's your mother?
- Pardon?

Your mother, detective?

Randall informed me
she's been seriously unwell.

She's making a recovery.

I'm glad to hear it.

I'm going to take some time out
to consider your future here.

In the meantime,
return to your office.

You are not to conduct
any field duties?

- Yes, ma'am.
- I'm serious, detective.

You arrive at nine,
sit at your desk,

then return home at five,
do you understand?

Absolutely.

OK, off you go.

I'm not sure how you
ended up thanking her.

I'm just glad
to keep my job.

Well, I've got to
get back to work.

Walker wants me to start
a new recruitment drive.

For my replacement.

I don't know what she wants yet.
She's being mysterious

and not telling anyone.

Even her head of HR?

I think she worries
I'm too close to the agents.

Well, I'll turn my phone off next time
I decide to give you a late call.

Definitely.

I appreciate your help
though, Randall.

You've given me
my confidence back.

All part of the service.

I just want to say thanks.

No, worries.
Thanks for proving me right.

Listen, I think underneath
it all, Walker is impressed.

Maybe.

Funny way of showing it.

Catch you later.

"Dear Gabriel, congratulations on your
first case and your new department.

I've bought you a little something
to brighten up your office.

Here's to the future.
Sincerely, Martha Walker."

Subtitles by explosiveskull