All language subtitles for Silent Witness S16E07 Legacy (1)-eng.EN

Don't leave me! Please!

Please help me!

Help!

Help me!

Oh!

Aah!

Don't leave me here!

Please don't leave me!

Subtitles by MemoryOnSmells
http://UKsubtitles.ru.

What did that to his arm?

I don't know.
It's definitely not rat bites.

Apparently, he fell from heaven.

Has anybody moved the debris?

Only what was needed
to support the roof.

Don't want any more
surprises from above.

Who found him?
Couple of developers.

They pulled this ladder out the way.
It was holding up the ceiling.

Developers? Yeah, you know.

Apartments of the future. Windmills,
solar panels, that kind of thing.

Anything you need from the body?
No, he's all yours.

You really need to be up there?
Well, once we've cleared the floor.

What was this building?
Brimstead Fields?

It was a convalescent home
for TB patients

till it was closed in the '60s.

Now you'll have a site manager
breathing down your neck
to get the bulldozers in.

He can breathe all he likes.
No-one's coming in here
until I say so.

Leo.

Sorry I'm late, Sanjit.

Have I missed anything?
Nice try. No.

One moment, please, sir.

Thank you.

You're probably thinking
I'm a poor substitute
for Sir William himself,

but imagine how I feel.

I can't tell you how sorry
my father is that he can't be
at the ceremony.

I can tell you that this unit
is a project very, very close
to his heart.

Mr Hancock.
Your wife isn't here.

I know, Barbara.

Forgive me, I'm breaching the order.

You know I can't let you stay.

I don't want to interfere
with anyone's care.

Just give me some space
to sit with my son.

Please don't do this, Tom.

You think I'm wrong? No.

But you're going to suffer for it.
I'll have to call the police.

You do what you have to.

If you want to leave, leave now!

No-one come near me!

I will use this!

Can you get those people out,
please? Just make sure
they stay outside.

Erm... children's hospital,
the TAU department.

The police, please.

We have a man here with a gun.

Yes, OK. Thanks.

Well, Peter, I told you
I'd keep my promise.

You can build an empire,
which he did. You can create
a fortune, which he has.

You can even endure the shame of
having a government minister
for a son...

So, it's Lord Embleton now, is it?

Political donations...

But at the end of the day...
..beget political honours.

Power and fame and money
fade away.

Our true legacy
is in the things we do for others.

They're on the left-hand side.
He's just sitting next to his son.

You had enough?

Sorry, I'm just not very good
at these dog and pony shows.

Ah, Minister. Sanjit.

Can I introduce you
to Professor Leo Dalton?

How do you do?
Lord Embleton. Minister for Science.

I liked, erm... your point about
the things we do for others.

You know, Professor, I used to think
I knew my father.

Until I saw what losing my mother
did to him. This is really for her.

Are you part of the unit?

No, I'm just visiting.

Professor Dalton's
head of the Lyell Centre

and President of The Institute
of Forensic Pathologists.

The Lyell Centre?

Do you have a Dr Alexander
working for you?

Yeah, yeah. Do you know her?

I met her once. A weekend
conference thing, somewhere.

They all merge into one.
But I do remember her.

Excuse me. James, can I borrow you?

Sorry.

Something's wrong.

I need to find Professor Dalton.
Yeah, that's me.

Pathologist? What's going on?
Please come with me.

What? We've got a situation
in the ICU unit.

There's a man with a gun
and he's asking to speak to you.

Professor Dalton.
Are you the man I need?

Well, I don't know. Am I?
Thomas Hancock.

Self-employed heating engineer,
no police record, no convictions.

His son is terminally ill.

Doctors advised him
to withdraw treatment
but his wife won't have it.

He switched off the machines

and now he's making us all
wait for the kid to die.
What exactly...?

He wants to talk to the person
who'll carry out his son's
postmortem.

Tell him we need those
other patients out of there.

He thought it was a trick
when I... Oh, shit.

I'm Leo Dalton.
I'm a forensic pathologist.

I don't plan to hurt anyone.
I just want to do right by my boy.

I understand.

Is it OK if I sit down?

He's still breathing.

I thought he'd stop
when I switched off the machine.

What have they told you?
The cancer's everywhere.

His organs have failed.
He'll never wake up.

My wife went on the internet,
and now she chooses not to agree.

This isn't the way to deal
with this.

I don't have a choice.

Her solicitor found a judge

who gave her the benefit of the
doubt and overruled the doctors.

Why did you ask for me?
Because you'll be taking care of him

when it's over.
I can't guarantee that.

I want you to promise. I can't.

If you want to know that your son's
body's going to be respected...

No, what I want to know
is what killed him.

Well, you know the diagnosis.
But they say nothing about why.

They put power lines outside
the house that ran right past
his bedroom window.

Don't tell me that's healthy.

Look, I can't make you a promise
that I might not be able to keep.

Now, this power line thing is...
shaky science.

And a tumour can't tell you
what caused it to be a tumour.

Nobody wants to listen to me.

As long as I've got this,
you have to.

I have evidence.

I have proof. Of what?

OK, so maybe
it's not the power lines.

There's a lot
they don't want you to know.

So, you're the expert.

You tell me who killed my son.

Took a lot of nerve
to walk in here.

I know what it is
to lose a child.

Let go, Peter.

Please, son, let go.

Don't even think it.

Go!

On the right, put it down!

Stand clear!

Armed police! Get down on the floor!
Armed police!

Secure.

On your knees. Stand up.

Move.

Anything for me yet? The rest
of his clothes. Help yourself.

£2.50 and a set of car keys.
No ID of any kind.

Did they find a car?
Not that I know of.

And what about the damage
to his arm?

I think he did it to himself.

There's flesh in his teeth
and tooth marks on the bone.

I'll get micro-CT and DNA
to confirm.

That's one hell of a case
of the munchies.

Did you get his fingerprints?
The skin's too far gone.

Clarissa might be able to lift
something from the water bottle.
Yeah, I don't understand that.

A full bottle of water
and he didn't even touch it.

Maybe it isn't water.

When you're done with the prints,
can you screen his clothes
for hallucinogens?

Nikki reckons our boy
tried to chew his own arm off.

Oh. I got a partial
from the belt buckle.

But it doesn't match
any of the prints on the bottle.

What, there were two people?
Unless he had three index fingers.

Well, that still doesn't tell us
how he could be up there for days
without touching his water.

Maybe he couldn't reach it.

Run the prints through AFIS
and check out the water.

People have done worse on LSD.

You could
take the afternoon off.

I'd rather stay here and annoy you.

I don't want to be
mooching around at home.

As opposed to mooching around here?
Hmm.

Do you know a Lord Embleton?

Embleton? Mm.

He knows you. James Embleton.

Oh, him! Yes.
"Oh, him, yes"!

I only met him once.

Well, you made quite an impression.

Hm. We should talk about the man
from the ceiling.

Does he have a name yet?

Clarissa lifted a partial
from his belt buckle

and she's checking it
against the database.

And who's the officer?
Detective Inspector Cherry.

Do you know him? Is that him?

Yeah.

You coming through?
In a minute, yeah.

Morning, James.
Hello, Claire.

I'll get those e-mails sent.

Do you need anything else?
Some hot Vimto would be nice.

I'll tell the kitchen.

Hello, Dad.

Hm. I wish I was 79 again.

There was a bit of excitement
after the ceremony.

Some nutcase got onto one of
the wards with a shotgun.

Never mind that.

Brimstead Fields...
What's this about?

Former TB hospital which has been
empty for more than 40 years...

Oh, no.
...Intense police scrutiny...

Brimstead Fields.
...after a body was discovered...
Didn't I make myself clear?

The contractors are supposed
to start work next week.

This is really going to
mess things up. I told you.

I know.

But it's been standing empty
for so long. It... it was meant to
be a surprise.

It's that all right.

I'm not doing this
to make money, Dad.

This is a big project.

We're converting the old hospital
into apartments.

We're building 200 low-cost homes.

The whole development
is going to be carbon-neutral.

No-one's ever done anything
like this before, not on this scale.

We're providing homes for people.

Surely it's better to put
that land to some sort of use?

Dad, you put me in the driving seat.
You have to let me drive.

What's your problem with it?

Legal issues.

Hm. I have to go.

I'm going to have to deal with this.

I'll call again soon.

The body's quite well preserved.

From the way he was dressed,
I'd say he entered
the building in summer.

A hot, airless, confined space
would have accelerated death
from dehydration

and then acted to preserve
the tissues from decay.

But he had a full bottle of water
with him. So, why didn't he use it?

Exactly, something we're
looking into.

There are lacerations on the arm
below the major injury.

And signs of tearing,
all in one direction.

How long did he live?

Long enough for necrosis
to set in on the arm.

Days at least.
Perhaps more than a week.

Dehydration could have led
to shock and cardiac arrest.

As would a release of myoglobin
from the necrotic muscle.

We can't rule out blood loss
when he bit through the artery.

Ah, listen, there's currently
200 misper files for young
males in their 20s.

Is there anything that you can
give me that might narrow it
down a bit?

Well, I did find something
interesting in the organ slides.

Oh, here we go. This is my nightmare
of being dragged back to school.

This is a slice from
the best-preserved kidney.

If you look at the structure, you'll
see signs of tubular dysfunction.

This means a less efficient kidney

that passes substances into the
urine instead of the bloodstream.

Increased urination
means more rapid dehydration.

So, how does that help me?

It could help identify him

through medical records.
And if that doesn't

turn anything up, there's always the
option of virtual reconstruction.
What, with that face?

Well, Nikki's worked wonders
with less.

When Dr Alexander's done
with you, can you come with
me to the clean room, please? Sure.

I used the grid to recreate
where all the ceiling pieces fell.

From there,
I could jinx them around

to approximate where they
would have been before
the whole thing came down.

So, what about the water?
He couldn't reach it.

The flags are a blood trail...

and they led me to here.

Now, in this part of the space
there's a conduit through the brick.

And for some reason he pushed
his arm right through it,

and got himself trapped.

How do you know that?

Well, there was massive
blood loss here.

Enough to tell us that he must
have bitten through an artery

in his final effort to get free.

Then he dragged himself
across to the hatch.

Doesn't have the strength
to open a bottle of water.

All he's thinking about
is getting out.

No tears of relief,
can't spare the moisture.

Up till now, still looks to me
like misadventure.

But what does he find
when he gets here?

Bolted?

From below. Look around.

There's no other way in or out.

This wasn't just misadventure.

Someone locked him in
and left him to die.

Good work. Thanks.

I've got a black-tie bash tomorrow,

and I was wondering
if you'd stand in for me.

You've done it before.
Will I know anyone?

Oh, it's all the usual
Forensic Forum crowd.

Be good for you.
Be good for the Lyell Centre.

If I have to. Thanks.

Oh, they've just brought
the Hancock boy in.

Thank you.

What are you doing here?
I'm on bail.

How did you get bail?

I'm no significant risk to the
public. Well, that's rich.

After you killed our son.

If that's what you want to think.
You don't care what I think.

Even if his only chance was a
miracle, you took that chance away.

You could see how he was suffering.

If he could suffer, he could live.

What do you want from me?

I want him back.

Why don't we sit down
and talk about it?

Stella. Stella!

You go to hell!

Everything I'm seeing
confirms what's in his notes.

Multiple primary lung tumours,
probably synchronous.

A stage four small-cell carcinoma
with multiple secondaries.

He's had it all. Surgery. Radiation.

Nothing helped.

I don't know if we can
take the hospital notes as read.

Once he'd reached a terminal state,

there'd be no more
diagnostic searches.

I doubt we'll find anything
that alters the story.

How old's the scan? Three weeks.

He went down fast.

How did you leave it
with the father?

He wants someone to blame.

He wants an explanation
and the truth is

that sometimes
it's just an appalling lottery.

Leo?

What?

Very rarely do you see this level

of tubular atrophy
in someone so young.

Unless the kidney disease
is genetic.

The same as the boy in the roof?

Test the blood and urine
for tubular acidosis.

For both cases.

Good morning, Clarissa.

Americano, dash of milk,

and a little biscuit.

What are you after?

Can I not just buy my colleague
a cup of coffee?

I had a voucher.

Cheapskate. How are we doing?

Winning two-nil. That grid idea
of yours was a blinder.

I've sent off the DNA.
You know, if it were down to me

I'd have everyone chipped like a dog
and save us all a lot of trouble.

If the keys were in his pocket,
what happened to his car?

Well, the police did a search
and found nothing.
Maybe there was a second set.

You wouldn't be able to move it
without one. There's a transponder.

Were you able to get a make
and a model?

Better than that.
I got you Colin Connor.

Who's Colin Connor?
Your boy in the roof.

AFIS matched the partial
from the belt buckle.

Oh.

You little tease.

Thanks for the coffee.
And the biscuit.

Colin Connor was a local kid.

We've got his prints on file
from a bit of petty crime.

What about family?
It said a sister in Newcastle.

Been signing on. Hadn't done any
work or any training for five years.

That's all we know about him until
we find out who his friends were.

Where did he live? Above a pub.

Landlord assumed he'd skipped,
so he bagged up all his gear.

So, of course, all we found were his
dirty clothes and his dirty mags.

And then when you said you'd found
the keys, we widened the search.

So, we were just wondering,
could that be it?

Looks like someone pushed it
down here and then torched it,
cover their tracks.

Did no-one report it?

Well, we had it down as dumped,
not stolen.

Well, this is what they were after.

These are the cut ends
of all the wire

I found in the burned-out pick-up.

This is scrap wiring
from the old building.

Look at the tool marks on the end.

They're a match.

It's metal theft.
They were stripping out copper
to sell for cash.

They? Colin Connor
and at least one other.

Colin goes into the roof space
to get the wire.

He reaches too far into a conduit,
gets his arm stuck.

Instead of helping him out,

the other one bolts the trap,
leaves him to die a horrible death,

and torches the pick-up
to cover their tracks.

Why would someone do that?

Did you ever read
The Cask of Amontillado?

The what?

Look it up.

Come on then, genius.

It's a short story
by Edgar Allan Poe.

Course it is.

A man responds to an insult by
luring his friend into a wine cellar

and then walling him in alive.

It's good.

Working here is like being
on bloody Mastermind.

So, what are you going to do now?

Find out who owns the truck.

'Tom. What can I do for you?'

Yeah, I... I'm calling for news.

You have to be patient.

You made me a promise.

'I said that I would give you
an answer when I had one.'

You said "when". That mean
you think I could be right?

I didn't say that.

You haven't even asked
to see my evidence yet.

Yeah, well, I prefer
to find my own.

Look, take my advice,
keep away from the internet.

'I'll see you at the inquest, OK?'

Wow. Don't suppose
you need a plus-one?

It's a formal occasion, Jack.
I can behave.

Jury's out on that one.

Hi. Oh! Look at you.

We have the test results for
Peter Hancock's kidney disease.

Everything points
to Fanconi syndrome. Really?

I know, it's rare, but
it's the same for both cases.

If there's no genetic cause, then
usually it's environmental.

I haven't heard of a case of
Fanconi syndrome
since lead pipes were banned.

Well, some herbal remedies can have
the same effect, can't they?

Wasn't his mother
into that kind of thing?

Well, that wouldn't explain
the damage to Colin Connor.

Shouldn't you be, er...?
You owe me.

Hi. Thanks. Do you know
if there's a seating plan?

It's just over there, madam.
Thank you.

Dr Alexander?

James Embleton.
You won't remember me.

Lord Embleton.

You do remember!

None of this "Lord" stuff.
Call me James.

Call me Nikki.

I met your boss yesterday.

I'm standing in for him now.

I am so glad.

Really? I wanted to give you
my card at that weekend thing,

but you'd already left.
I was in that lecture of yours

when the old man in the second row
asked a pointless question.

Everybody groaned,
and you could have slapped him down

but instead you turned it around
and made him feel clever.

Ever since then I've been looking
for an excuse to meet you again.

Why do you need an excuse?

Yes. Why do I?

Excuse me.

I'll have to run over to the House.
My boss needs me to vote.

You have a boss?

Until there's a freelance Minister
of Science, that's the way it is.

Could I ask you
for your phone number?

Can't make the same mistake twice.

I see you're sitting next to
Dr Corder.

Mm-hm.
Try not to stare at his wonky eye.

You really ought to go there.

I mean, we went there
for our last holiday

and, er... I mean,
the trick is to leave early.

Course, we stop at the service
stations on the way up

but it's never the same
if you don't get a good run.

That's the thing.

The thing is... I'm so sorry.

This is work. I'm going to have to
deal with it. Sorry.

Oh, that's perfectly OK.
Lovely to meet you.

Nice to meet you.
And you.

Anyway, as I was saying...

He does not have a wonky eye.

Really? My mistake.

Shall we?

So, you weren't born a lord?

It was a dodge, really,
to bring me into the government,

which was never my ambition.

But when they call you to serve,
what can you do?

I guess a title will get you
a table at any fancy restaurant.

Those aren't even
the kind of restaurants I like.

So, are you happy? I mean, are you
happy with the work you're doing?

Why wouldn't I be?

I heard your keynote speech
at the conference.

You're a proper scientist.

All the politics
must get in the way, doesn't it?

I can make a difference
in other ways.

God, I couldn't do that.

Advising people who choose
the truths they want to hear.

I'd be tearing my hair out.

You've met my bosses.
I've met people like them.

We all serve our separate masters,

right up to the one at the top
who serves his private demons,

and that's politics in a nutshell.

Sounds very cynical.
It's a cynical world.

It doesn't have to be.

Anyone who thinks that
needs a lesson in hard reality.

I have to prepare for a coroner's
report tomorrow, for a teenaged boy

with a glioblastoma
that spread to his brainstem.

That's my... hard reality.

Shit.

Look, if this is about the old van,

I had a good reason for
not reporting it stolen.

Go on.

It wasn't worth it to me.
It was a clapped-out piece of junk.

I'd have got buttons and all my
other premiums would have shot up.

So, who took it?
I don't know.

Someone broke into the yard
one bank holiday weekend.

Someone was using your van
to steal scrap metal
from a derelict building.

You don't think I had anything
to do with that, do you?

Well, you have got a record.
Yeah, from way back!

God Almighty! I were all but a kid!

And I've got responsibilities now.

I got the contract for all the
sheltered housing in the borough.
Do you think I'm going to risk that?

All right, calm down, Brian.

The thief was unlucky.
He got trapped in the roof.

The keys to your van
were in his pocket.

And he wasn't alone.

Someone knew he was up there
and did nothing.

Took him best part of a week to die.

It was a pretty nasty way to go.

It were nothing to do with me.

Derren?

Derren!

Why did you lie to me about Colin?

I didn't.

He's not lying low in Newcastle.

He's only on a slab
in the bloody morgue.

Did you know about this? No.

Don't do this to me, Derren. Please.

This is important.

Why are you shouting at me?

Don't you get it? Colin's dead!

God, Derren! What's the matter with
you? You're asleep half the time,

then you do something like this?
I didn't do anything!

Did he make you go there with him?

Were you thieving wire again
with my van?

Oi! Come here!

Derren! If you were there,
they'll find out!

Just tell me the bloody truth!

Let me help you, son. Please.

I don't get you, Derren!
I don't get you at all!

And I'm sick of covering for you!

How did it go?

Tom Hancock wouldn't keep quiet.
The ushers had to take him outside.

What, he missed
his own son's inquest?

Well, the Coroner let him back in
once he'd calmed down.

Odd, though, isn't it? What?

You found small cell tumours
in the lungs,

and glioblastoma
invaded the brainstem,

and then there's
the Fanconi syndrome.

So, what are you getting at?

Well, that's two separate
synchronous primaries,

one of which is
vanishingly rare in children.

And the Fanconi syndrome,
that's also rare.

And also present
in the Brimstead Fields case.

Are you suggesting they're related?

Can I show you two something?

I think Brian Blackburn
knows more than he's saying.

So I got the ID photos of his staff
on the sheltered housing project.

I've been comparing the faces
to our subject. No good.

No good. And then...

Nikki, what do you think?

Well, we should get a 3-D scan and
do it properly. But you're right.

That's a good match.

Colin Connor had been
working under a false name,

and I'm sure Brian Blackburn knew.

Official business?

Unofficial. I wanted to give
you this.

I don't need an apartment.

I'm not suggesting you move there.
It's my project.

I wanted you to see it. Why?

Because it's something
that means a lot to me,

and I don't think I made a very good
impression the last time we met.

I was going to send flowers, but...
well, you know. To a morgue?

"Zero footprint living"?

The project is a showpiece
for the future of housing.

But with real people living in it.

I may not be doing the science
in the lab,

but this is something I can achieve.

You might recognise the building.

Where the man fell from the ceiling.

Yeah, that's not in the prospectus.

Well, if I read it,
will it make you happy? I'm serious.

Your opinion matters to me.

I don't know what you're worried
about. My opinion of you is fine.

We're having this.

And we're having those too.

What have you done?

I didn't kill anyone.

Yeah, but you just left him there.
Why?

He was always pushing me.

He said we were mates, but we only
ever did what he wanted to do.

That's no reason to let someone die.

It's not my fault he got stuck.

Whenever I was in trouble,
he'd just laugh at me.

Did you touch anything?
Did you leave anything behind?

What are you going to tell 'em?

Just keep quiet.

As long as they don't find anything,
we should be all right.

All right?

I thought maybe you didn't
find the note. On page 15.

So, you read that far.
I'll be honest. I skimmed.

Thanks for the second chance.
Thanks for waiting.

Sorry, sir, authorised personnel
only. Yeah, I just want to speak
to Professor Dalton.

You'll need to make an appointment.
Professor Dalton!

You will have to make
an appointment with him.

It's Tom! I just want to speak
to you!

Stop, sir. Get your hands off me.

I just want to speak to Professor
Dalton. OK, OK. I'll deal with this.
Thank you. Are you sure? Yeah.

Tom? What are you doing?

The inquest was a farce,
and you weren't even there!

I approved Dr Alexander's
report.

If I'm a witness at the court case,

I cannot be the pathologist
of record.

Someone knows what's happening,

and there's people
dying because of it!

It's been going on for years,

and it will keep on until
somebody puts a stop to it!

Tom. You're not helping your case.
They wouldn't even look
at my evidence.

A coroner's court is an inquest.
It is not an inquiry.

It's the who, what, where and when.
But not why!

If there's damage, something
did it. It's common sense!

Common sense isn't evidence.

They wouldn't let me show
my evidence.

I look at facts, I see patterns.

I'm not an expert.
But that doesn't make me a crank.

Nobody is calling you a crank.
But that's what they think!

And you know what? I wouldn't care,
as long as they look.

No-one will do me the courtesy of
at least telling me that I'm wrong.

Well, let me.

Here.

OK.

A fair reading.
That's... that's all I ask.

Thank you.

I'm sorry about all the...
It's all right.

Ah, been fanning the flames
of romance?

It was a civilised lunch.
Good food, good company.

And he was the perfect gentleman.
Or just slow off the mark.

A guy needs clear signals
to proceed.

I'll bear traffic lights in mind
next time.

Tom Hancock thinks that he's detected

a disease cluster
based around power lines.

He's wrong, but give him credit.

There is something going on
in the area.

Any random distribution
has natural clusters in it.

True. But I downloaded this data
from the Department of Health.

It's local cases of renal disease
over the last five years.

Now, the national occurrence
is ten per 100,000.

But in this area it's far higher.

And neither Colin Connor
nor Peter Hancock

have Fanconi syndrome
in their family history.

So, what if the kidney damage
had a different cause?

Such as exposure
to toxic heavy metals.

For example, mercury, cadmium,
they'd trigger the same symptoms.

As would asbestos. Or weedkiller.

And look at the way
that the pattern spreads.

It's a classic
ground-water plume.

So, what do you want us to do?

Take bone marrow samples
from Peter and Colin.

If there's toxic metal there,
that's where you'll find it.

Heavy metal poisoning
didn't kill Peter Hancock.

So, maybe there's
something else there.

I've tried to get
the local water and soil figures

but my request has been
"referred for approval".

I mean, I thought this was
public information.

What are they trying to hide?

You all right, sir?
How you doing, Rachel?

The architects have asked if they
can move their meeting to tomorrow.

The Minister wants to see you
at 4:30.

And there's a David Loader
waiting to see you.

David who? David Loader.

We work for
some of the same people.

I'll be shadowing
your department for a while.

Can we talk?

You'd better not be playing
Angry Birds on that.

Ha-ha. I'm looking for a local vet.

A vet? Why?

Well, a ground-water plume
spreads from a source.

So, either we drive all over
the county taking samples,

or we can look for a hot spot.

If there's contamination
in the land,

the people most likely to see
the effects are local farmers.

There speaks a country boy.
LAUGHS

Why a vet? Cos I know farmers.
They'll tell you nothing.

How well do you know
Professor Dalton? Dalton? Leo Dalton.

Hardly at all. I... I think I met
him once.

As well as sending those e-mails,

he made a search
of Health Department records

using the Lyell Centre's IP address.

Both enquiries put a flag up.

Why?

One of my responsibilities is to make
sure that this particular

sleeping dog is allowed to lie.

So, with respect, Minister,

do us both a favour
and please don't ask again.

Can I at least know
who set the flag?

That was done a long time ago.

Seriously, James,
it's no big thing.

And certainly nothing
you can hope to deal with.

Kristen?

It is Kristen, isn't it?

Can we have the available information
on Professor Dalton, please?

The Lyell uses university servers.

OK, thank you.

I'll put a watch
on their e-mail traffic.

Can we do that? Yes, we can.

I'll be in touch.

Thank you very much.
You've been really helpful.

Thanks again. Take care. Bye-bye.

That a lady vet?

How could you tell? At least
one of you was flirting.

She's only just taken over
the practice

from a partner who retired
after 35 years.

He told her a story from back
in the '70s,

when he'd been drafted in

to put down an entire herd of
healthy cattle.

Floods had taken down the fences

and they'd strayed onto
forestry land.

He said the Ministry sent out
people to supervise him,

and the Army burned
all the carcasses after.

The place is just up the road.

Now what?

Fetch your kit.

Mind the barbed wire.

Yeah, that'll do.

Yep.

The place has been stripped out
over the years.

Someone's been in and stolen
all the lead and copper.

Stand your ground! Don't move!
Don't move!

What's going on? Don't move, sir!
Stay where you are!

Holy shit! What the hell?
Jack! Jack! Calm down.

Are you mad? We're using
live ammunition here!
You don't ignore the signs!

There were no signs!

I'm Leo Dalton.
I'm a forensic pathologist

working at the Lyell Centre.

You can check it
with the Home Office.

What are you doing here?
My job! What are you doing?

This is a live firing exercise,
Professor.

I don't know how you got in here.

But I'm going to need your
cooperation while I remove you
from the field of fire.

Is this Army land?
By arrangement with the landowner.

Come on, then. Let's go. Hurry up.

Can you believe...? Unbelievable.
This way, sir.

There you go, sir.
Climb in, gents. Mind your heads.

Sit tight. I'll have you out
as soon as it's clear.

Where's your kit?

They've got it.

Oh, hi. Hey.

So, this is it,
the Embleton empire.

More or less.

Where is everyone?

Ran off and left me.

So, you wanted to talk to me,
face to face. I did.

So, I'm here.

If it's about the crime scene
holding up your development,

I can't really
give you a timescale.

It... it's not that.

Well, what is it, then?

This afternoon I've had six
meetings, made about 30 phone calls,

organised four events
designed to convince people

of how much important work
my department does... Mm-hm?

And do you know what thought
has been running through

my addled brain the entire time?

Not really.

Sorry about the time it's taken.
Had to wait for the all-clear.

There you are, sir.

Don't wipe your feet. What?

I need your shoes. Oh!

They had two hours to mess with
my samples while we sat in the van.

But if that soil is contaminated,
we might have enough here.

I feel so bad for you, Jack. Why?

You finally talk a co-worker
out of their pants,

and it's the Professor.

Useful?

Dad!

It's for you.

Who is it? Professor Dalton?

George Ryder.

I understand that you were
the last owner of Brimstead Farm.

Oh. It's taken you long enough
to call me back.

We haven't spoken before.

It's about them building
on the old convalescent home?

Cos if that land's good enough
to build on, I've been lied to.

I got your details
from the Farmers Union.

But I do want to hear
what you have to say.

Who are you? Professor Dalton
from the Lyell Centre.

What's wrong with that land,
Mr Ryder?

What do you think? Who is she?

Nikki Alexander. She's a doctor.

Huh. That'll be handy.
A pathologist.

Oh, I don't need one of them yet.

A forensic pathologist.

She's one of the team
on the Brimstead Fields murder.

Well, maybe she'll be able to

put a stop to that cockeyed
development plan.

You don't like her?

I don't much like the sound of her.

No.

Mm.

Don't like the sound of her.

I called. I made an appointment.

I'm sorry,
but Lord Embleton isn't here yet.

Mr Ryder?

Your appointment's with me.

I call and write letters,
and no-one wants to know me.

I say I'll speak to
this Professor Dalton,

and suddenly I've got your
attention. What can I do for you?

Who am I talking to?
We're on the same side.

I was told nothing could be done
with that land. Any of it. Ever.

The development is a mistake.
It was never supposed to happen.

So, are they going to build on it,
or not? I don't know.

But your situation doesn't change.

Well, that's not good enough for me.

Please don't do that.

If it's all right to build
on Brimstead Fields,

I want the proper value of my farm.

Not the pittance I was given when
they told me it was worth nothing.

Do you get that? I understand.

This Lord Embleton,
as he calls himself,

you tell him I can make an awful lot
of trouble for him if I choose.

A big load of trouble.

Mr Ryder. Go home and wait for us
to call.

This will be dealt with.

Nobody wants trouble.

Least of all a man of your age.

Professor Dalton?
My information has a value.

If they won't look after me,
I'll take it to someone who will.

Well, can we meet?
I have your address.

No, no, no. That's my daughter's
house. Keep her out of this.

What are you afraid of?
I'm not afraid.

But I keep my word, and I don't like
it when others don't keep theirs.

First it was Brimstead Farm,
now it's Brimstead Fields.

I know why it's been closed
all these years. Look.

I'll meet you there

and I'll tell you
what they don't want you to hear.

George?

Mr Ryder?

George!

George?

Police! Open the door!

You can't let them in here, Dad.

You got three seconds, Brian!

Who are you and how did you
get in here? David Loader.

Look very closely at George
Ryder when he comes in.

I don't think Derren Blackburn
killed him.

Leo's giving himself a hard time
over the Peter Hancock case.

He's pushing for answers
that probably aren't there.

- You don't have to know everything.
- That's the hangman's fracture.

Send her out. Dad! I want to speak
to my son in private.

That is the same shape as
Brimstead Wood.

Professor Dalton. Jennifer.

It's not a friendly visit,
Professor.

We're on dangerous ground here,
Jack.

Subtitles by MemoryOnSmells
http://UKsubtitles.ru.