All language subtitles for Rejseholdet (Unit One) - 03x13 - The Wind That Blew My Heart Away.DVD-Rip .English.orig.Addic7ed.com

Request for Assistance
A-19/01

SorǾ police are still looking for
Nicholas Torp-Petersen, aged 17,

who disappeared fro
SorǾ Acadey on Thursday...

Have they made up?

- Who?
- Fischer and Ida.

- Did they have a quarrel?
- Didn't you know?

He told her that she'd screwed
her way to a promotion.

I'd have been bloody angry
if you'd told me that.

No.

Why "no"?

Hello!

Suspected crime scene, Sorø Academy
12.32, Tuesday October 30

Steffen, do you mind
telling me what's going on?

That guy's a clairvoyant.

Clairvoyant?

He's from Unit One.

He says Nicholas is down there.

- Claus Ernst, Ringsted Police.
- Hello. LaCour, Unit One.

- You know this place well?
- Yes, I went to the academy.

And what about Nicholas?

I heard about him
on the radio.

So...

It was just on an impulse
that you came down here?

You could say that.

Steffen, get Forensics
and seal off the damn place.

And now you'll arrest yourself?

Arrest?

Well,
at least you'll ask yourself

to account for your movements
since Thursday, won't you?

UNIT ONE

- They asked LaCour for an alibi?
- He was cleared.

He'd been showing off the baby
to the grandparents.

Episode 29

He's been with family
since Wednesday.

- They've asked for assistance?
- Yes.

- I'll get the others.
- You've read this, of course?

- What?
- Well...

It's just... a column
in The New y ork Ties

about my lecture last month.

"The highest detection rate
in the world - the special force."

Us!
The world's best detection rate.

That's great.

They thought I'd said 19,

but I said
90% of all homicides get solved.

That made them bloody sit up
and take notice!

Yes? Ulf Thomsen.

Yes. Hi.

Yes.
I'd be happy to.

Yes, okay, I'll find it.

Yes, fine.
So long.

So, TV stations
read The New y ork Ties.

Kurt Strand, asking me
to appear on Profile tonight.

Nice, Ulf.

Think they had any idea
we'd do so well

when they started Unit One
75 years ago?

75 years!

No, I guess they didn't.

No, keep it.
I've got more copies.

- See you.
- Bye, Ulf.

Sorø Academy
15.12, Tuesday October 30

Fancy keeping us
for over three hours.

- That's how it is.
- It's not.

I went straight to the body.
It is bloody strange.

Yes.

But it should have been okay

once I said I'd been with you
since Wednesday.

Well, come here.
We're going home.

- Take care.
- I will.

Have a good trip.
Bye, little Marie.

Hi, Ingrid.

Well...
You're back again.

Yes.

- Should we go and have a look?
- Yes.

I heard church bells just after
the report about the boy

in the middle of the news.

I'd heard them
thousands of times as a boy.

At the same time, I saw
a small place near the church

where the gravestones are kept.

There was...

a very strong sense that
something evil had happened.

He insisted on being found.

But he was killed
down by the old gravestones.

Then the body was thrown over
the wall into a waiting barrow.

And the grave...

that he's lying in
was also prepared in advance.

Ingrid, he's dangerous.

- Chief Constable Claus Ernst.
- Ingrid. Hi.

If you'd sent that guy down
last Thursday

it would have saved us
four days' work.

What?

Next time, send him here
before anything happens.

Yes.
Well?

For now?
He had his throat slit.

- This was in his pocket.
- We'll check it.

The mail came after you left.
It's from your father.

Make sure you finish
before Saturday.

Well...

Okay... 50,000.
That's not too bad.

Something wrong?

My mum won't come
if Dad's new wife comes.

She won't let him come alone.
He's let the women decide.

My dad's not coming.

Who will walk me
down the aisle?

Gaby... we'll manage.

I don't want it.

Why give me 50,000?
We agreed on 30,000.

Yes, but...

We'll manage, right?

Yes. But 50,000...

- Drop my bag off at the hotel?
- Yes.

Briefing
21.32, Tuesday October 30

Nicholas Torp-Petersen,
aged 17.

Described as a quiet, shy boy.
Not stupid,

but neither could he brag
about his intelligence.

- Has anyone rung his relatives?
- His parents live in Singapore.

They'll be back in a few days.

Why so long?

His mother's been afraid of flying
since September 11.

His sister Caroline's in London.
She's arriving tomorrow.

What about his mobile?

The school began a search
on Friday morning

when they discovered
him missing.

Friday evening,
we launched a major search

but as we're not equipped
with crystal balls

it was ordinary,
hard police work...

Dogs, helicopters
and wasted time.

Regarding the mobile,

the last call he got
was on Thursday night.

Where from?

Had you let me finish,

I'd have said from a garage
outside Sorø.

- Have you been there?
- Of course we have.

The call was made from
a payphone near the toilets.

Nobody saw a thing.

Okay. Right.

Fischer deals with interviews.
LaCour, the crime scene.

- All reports to Gaby, and IP...
- The rest.

Let's start.

Start? Can't that guy just find
the killer in his crystal ball?

Because we're well liked
in the various police districts,

the cooperation is excellent.

In the glowing report
in The New y ork Ties

it says Denark has the highest
detection rate in the world...

- Why's that?
- A hoicide is a hoicide.

Our colleagues in the States
get...

Say a black prostitute
is urdered...

they get a week to solve it.

Here we have, in all odesty,
Unit One.

A small, independent enclave,
working autonomously.

Right. But "autonomously"
and "enclave" sounds as if

you're outside the law.

No, not at all.
We answer to the chief of police.

But y point is, we keep going.

We keep going
till we get our an or woan

regardless of who was killed
or the cost involved.

But one explanation for the good
results could be that technology...

Good evening, Ulf.
It's Palsby.

I know you can't answer now
because you're on TV.

You're handling it well.

But would you drop by
my office tomorrow?

Shall we say 8.15?
Bye.

To wrap up.

In Denark we don't have
serial killers, do we?

No.

Simply because you catch
the killer before he kills again?

- Is that it?
- Yes.

Thanks for being on Profile.

And aybe
for the existence of Unit One...

He's laying it on a bit thick.

Sour grapes, eh?

- I'll go and talk to Høst.
- Yes.

- Can you take this up?
- Yes. Bye.

Hi, Jan.

Have a look at this.

- Yes?
- It's very interesting.

- What's interesting?
- Have a look.

Yuk!

Yes.

He enjoyed it. Remember
ripping the legs off a spider?

- Please!
- I do. I even ate them.

Do you mind?

Did he die instantly
or did he feel it all?

- What's that?
- Photos of the autopsy.

Any reason to exclude me?

No, you're welcome.

He didn't feel anything.
Look at that frostbite.

The killer chloroformed him.

Isn't that interesting?

- Like with the Red Indian?
- Yes.

- What about the pubic hair?
- It was cut off.

- Was he raped?
- At least he was spared that.

Something else
I shouldn't know?

Who's responsible
for this investigation?

Can you keep a secret?

- What?
- We do have a serial killer.

- Ulf just said the opposite.
- He's known as the Red Indian.

He cuts the pubic hair
off his victims.

So you reckon we're looking for...
the Red Indian?

- Yes.
- There's every indication.

Impressive.
I've not been here before.

There's nothing wrong
with the surroundings.

Up this way.

I didn't know him at all.

He was only here three months.

Here you are.
This is it.

Thanks.

I could have expelled him,
had I known.

Bloody hell!

Yes.

SEWER CUNT

Yes, Henriette,
but I'm investigating a murder.

Yes...
Yes. I have to go now.

No, I think Gaby would prefer
to go out for a quiet dinner...

No, of course not.

Coming, Ingrid?
We're leaving.

Henriette, I really must go.
Bye.

Thanks.

She asked Helene too.

She has the best excuse...
breastfeeding.

Is she just as bloody irritating
with Ida?

Who?

Henriette. She's arranging
Gaby's hens' night.

What does that have to do
with Ida?

She's part of the set-up.
Don't you talk?

Yes, I think we do.

Do you talk
about buying my flat?

We talked about it yesterday.
It seems okay.

Ida's dad is checking it.

So you're arranging Gaby's
hens' night? Lovely!

No, Henriette is.

I've got rollerblades

and I can get cardboard,
paper and marker pens...

Hi.

Hi.

You've spoken
to his classmates?

That's right and...
it's the same old story.

Nobody really knew him.

He didn't really have contact
with anyone. He kept to himself.

Maybe he hadn't met anyone
with the same interests.

This was on his wall.

Here...
A man is sedating his victim.

Here his throat is slit.

The victim is raped.

And here...

He's cutting off
the pubic hair.

The Red Indian's
modus operandi.

Trine wrote this when we thought
the Red Indian was in Bornholm.

We found it in his desk.

The missing pictures...
are here.

Yes... To complete his work,
he has mounted their pubic hair

as a finishing touch.

One could get the idea

that the Red Indian was
Nicholas Torp-Petersen, aged 17.

He'd need to have started at 14.

Okay.

Except that Boysen just told us
that Nicholas was chloroformed.

He had his throat slit
and his pubic hair cut off.

- Is that true?
- That's what he said.

Yes.

So we have a body
which is either the Red Indian

or was killed by him.

- Nicholas wrote those names?
- Yes.

I bet
the Red Indian killed him.

Why?

Well, look at these drawings.

And look at his writing.

It's so bad,
he couldn't have drawn these.

I'd like to talk to
whoever drew them.

No good...
It's impossible.

You must put in a gusset.

But it will look awful.

Henriette measured me.
Try again.

- I'll pull my stomach in.
- Do that.

No, I can't do it.

What if I don't eat
until Saturday?

- Let's go for a run!
- You can't lose it in four days.

Did you talk to her?

- Who?
- Henriette.

- No.
- Are you sure?

- Should I have?
- No, it's just strange that...

What?

It doesn't matter, but...

I've arranged
so many hens' nights,

it's odd nobody's thought of me.

- Are you upset?
- No. Try again.

Come on.

- Damn!
- My dad sent me a letter.

Letter?

Forget it.
Try again.

Come in.

- Damn, you look good!
- Thanks.

Shouldn't you get one?

- Two glasses?
- Haven't you got a mug?

It's all right.
I'm off to bed.

- Okay.
- Good night.

- Your dress is undone.
- You don't say!

Here you are.

Isn't it odd that the pubic hair
under all the pictures

is the same colour
when the girls are so different?

- Pubic hair varies, right?
- As a man of experience?

- As a pathologist, okay?
- Oh!

Brunettes, redheads and blondes
are different?

Of course.

Then I have a job for you.

- Tomorrow, right?
- Yes.

Chief of police, Copenhagen
08.30, Wednesday October 31

- Hi, Ulf.
- Hi.

Tuesday, then.
Okay, fine.

- Thanks for coming.
- Not at all.

- Weird, that LaCour thing, huh?
- Yes... Alpha and omega.

- What?
- Trusting your instinct.

Even though it may sound crazy,
always check it out.

It's been my creed for 40 years.
It may be part of our success.

You made that clear on TV, right?

Thanks.
But I can't take all the credit.

- 70 years is a long time.
- Yes.

Perhaps it's time
to be creative.

- You always have to be.
- Happy to hear you say that.

It's important to stay ahead.

The Mafia from the East,
the threat of terror...

Understand what I'm saying?

No.

The chief of police
is on vacation.

Before leaving,
she'd commissioned an enquiry

and she agrees
with the conclusion.

And so do I.

Tell you what, Ulf.
No point pulling punches.

We're folding Unit One.

What?

Take it easy.
Nobody's getting fired.

It's just restructuring.

You'll all be kept busy.

Homicide will be incorporated
into Forensics.

Other units will be under
the Investigations Centre.

I can't remember exactly,
but it's all here.

Take a look
when you get a chance.

You want to split up Unit One?

- When will this happen?
- It's all there. On March 1.

March 1?

In four months, Unit One
will be erased from the map?

You make it sound so drastic.

- Is that wrong?
- No.

It's actually quite precise.

At this point,
keep it to yourself, okay?

You can stuff that!

I've made people work
even on Christmas Day.

I didn't ask for this information!

And I'll tell...
whoever I bloody like!

Have a nice day, Ulf.

Now he'll be impossible.

They're mentioning the praise
in The New y ork Ties.

Time to apply
for extra funds.

While management loves you.

- Oh, this is where you're hiding!
- Hi.

Hi, I'm Henriette,
Ingrid and Gaby's friend.

I know you don't have time.
It's okay.

Just a small favour.
Can you get Gaby to go to...

the jogging track by the lake...
here... at 5 o'clock?

Then we'll roll up
in police uniforms

and arrest her.

5 o'clock?

Yes.
When do you knock off?

Yesterday it was midnight.

She should finish early today.
Is that okay?

- The local inn?
- Yes, for the male strippers.

So... see you.

Nicholas' sister Caroline
is here. She's distraught.

So we've put her up
in a room.

Must you question her?

Yes. She's the only one
who knew Nicholas.

Perhaps if she gets a chance
to rest until... 3 o'clock?

We'll get her professional help.

Okay. Fine.

I'll ring and ask Helene.

Crime scene
09.55, Wednesday October 31

LaCour!

LaCour?

What happened?

I'm all right.

Thief.

- Thief?
- Thief.

Nicholas...

stole something
from his murderer.

Can you see any more?

I don't think I bloody dare.

"Hair... dresser".
No.

"The hairdresser", then.

No.

"Die".

No.

It's Nicholas' computer
but we can't log on.

"Cut"?

Yes, try him.

These were in his wardrobe.

- They're well drawn, but...
- But what?

I wouldn't have sex
with their creator.

You wouldn't know.

- Know what?
- What they're thinking.

That's true.

They're all about serial killers.

IP found the originals
for this one... our case.

"Sewer Cunt".
Sounds as if he likes women!

"Sewer Cunt".
I'll try that.

No. I'll have to send it
to the IT division.

That's good.
Thanks.

Sewer Cunt's father
is Ruben Petersen from Slagelse.

He designs baby clothes.

Damn.
What's "Sewer Cunt" in English?

I had an English boyfriend.

Okay.

- I'm going to Slagelse.
- Not alone.

- You don't know who's there.
- I'll go too.

How do you spell "sugar"?

Twenty-seven...

Slagelse
11.51, Wednesday October 31

I'm not at home.

Hi, Ruben.

I'm Allan Fischer.

And I'm Thomas LaCour.

We're from Unit One.

- What do you want?
- Just a chat.

- I'm in a bad mood.
- Why?

Burt Williams
has been executed.

- Who's Burt Williams?
- How might one describe him?

One of America's greatest...
serial killers.

Tell me, Ruben,
did you do this?

Like it?

Where do you get your ideas?

I'm just depicting reality.

I'm incapable of all that
idyllic piss

you fill people's minds with.

Loads of mindless shit.

Luckily
you get around quite well.

Where were you last Thursday?

Cooking dinner.

Here.

A recipe exclusively
for Sewer Cunt.

- It says "human flesh" here.
- In large chunks.

If you can't find a supplier,
you can use pork at a pinch.

Who was lucky enough
to dine on it?

The clothes manufacturer
and his disgusting bitch.

Can I have the name and number
of the manufacturer?

Thanks.

Do you know
Nicholas Torp-Petersen?

Nick?
Known him for years.

This guy.

He looks like that?

I've never met him.

We emailed.
He's one of our best writers.

- What did he do?
- Don't you read the papers?

- That crap.
- He's dead.

- How?
- He was murdered.

- Then he'll soon be famous.
- Why?

You must die young
to be recognised for your talent.

What inspired him?

I just said. He was a genius.
He had a direct line to God.

Ruben, you do know
you're easy to find?

Meaning?

I think Nicholas got
his storylines

from an actual rapist.

I think that's why he was killed.

Does he really exist?

You were right.

The pubic hair
is from the same person.

- Nicholas' own?
- Yes.

Why cut off his own pubic hair?

Why do some boys stuff rolled-up
socks down their underpants?

Sexual fascination.

But the bloodstains
on Nicholas' clothes are not his.

- The killer's?
- Yes.

The picture's coming.

- Hello.
- Hi, Ulf.

Well... How's it going?

Yes... we can hardly keep up.
The pieces are falling into place.

He was in email contact
with a prison inmate.

This guy.

Simon Friis.

Wasn't he a racing driver?

Yes, and a good one actually.

But he took risks
at his rivals' expense.

He lost his licence

due to a fatal accident
at Monza in Italy.

Then he set a new standard
for drink-driving in Copenhagen

by doing 180 km/h and killing
a girl at a pedestrian crossing.

But how a racing driver met
a timid boy, we've no idea.

But they aroused each other
by emailing their fantasies.

How?

Nicholas' fantasies
are just that...

in decent prose,
by the way.

While Simon's replies were
clumsy but terrifyingly authentic.

Ruben Petersen's alibi
checks out.

- Logged on?
- Yes.

Your Red Indian.

- Sure?
- Yes.

Here's what he sent Nicholas
when Trine's story appeared.

"She's lying,
that stupid cunt of a journalist.

"Was I in Bornholm last week?

"Someone's taking the credit.
He won't survive that."

That's close to a confession.

You think he killed Nicholas?

Yes.
He was released on Thursday.

If he was done for drink-driving,
there'll be a blood sample?

Yes.

As I recall, they found some DNA
on the girl from Maribo.

Damn right.

We'll compare it
with that on Nicholas.

How the hell
did they know each other?

- What did you want, Ulf?
- To know how you were doing.

Okay.

But things are fine.
Right, my girl?

Yes.

Has he been drinking?

Where the hell
have I seen him before?

Interrogation of
Caroline Torp-Petersen

Interrogation of deceased's sister
15.00, Wednesday October 31

regarding the murder
of Nicholas Torp-Petersen.

October 31, 15.00 hours.

Chief of Homicide Ingrid Dahl
present.

Caroline,
you're Nicholas' older sister?

And you live and work
in London?

You haven't been back
for two years?

No.

I know this is hard for you,

but...

you should know it was
an unusually violent murder.

- I understand.
- Okay.

We found some stuff
in Nicholas' room

that doesn't correspond
with the timid boy

we thought Nicholas was.

I know.

In a strange way,
he's always had it in him...

from when we were small.

He was completely obsessed
with dissecting animals...

Live snails, frogs
and things.

Do you know if Nicholas
knew this man?

Why are you showing me this?

- He didn't kill him, did he?
- We don't know.

- But you think so?
- Yes.

You knew him?

Simon proposed to me.
We were going to be married.

What happened?

I grew scared of him.

- Did you leave him?
- Yes.

Just before an important race
in Italy.

Nicholas was there too.

He worshipped Simon.

I signed for a bill
at a restaurant.

I accidentally
put Simon's pen in my pocket.

He went completely berserk.
I'd seen it so many times before.

Just after I broke up with him,
he rammed into another driver...

on the track.

In cold blood.

That's why
I've been hiding in England.

He said he'd kill me.

If he couldn't have me,
nobody else would.

Will it ever stop?

Yes.

- When?
- I promise.

This is Helene.
She'll help you.

Hello.

Come with me.
We'll find somewhere cosier.

Hi, Ernst, it's Ingrid.
Could you come over?

Bye.

Ulf, it's only 2.30.

Yes...
I've given myself the day off.

What's wrong?
You look terrible.

Will you marry me?

No, Ulf.
Sorry, but...

- You don't mean it.
- I do.

No.

I've thought of you... every day
since you said it was over.

Why do you think I said it?

I know.

I couldn't leave her.

Remember how we said goodbye?

Why not?

When we parted, I thought...
the whole world had fallen apart.

And when Buller left me...

I had no idea where to go...
me, an old woman.

Until I realised...

that the one woman
who missed me most,

actually... was the one
who I missed the most.

You understand?

They want to shut down
Unit One.

The chief of police didn't dare
tell me. She's on holidays.

And that report
is two months old.

We've sat in meetings
with her knowing.

- Have you seen Christian?
- No.

- You haven't?
- No.

Are you a complete nitwit?

You know the head
of the justice committee.

Isn't it silly
not to make use of it?

- But...
- Anyone else would do that.

Yes, of course.

Can you bear to hear that
you're a hell of a lovely woman?

Yes, I can.

You look happy.

What's that?

He is Caroline's ex.
He's been after her for years.

It's his DNA on Nicholas
and the girl from Maribo.

Impressive... no less.
Impressive.

- Thanks.
- In that case I should...

We must start a full-scale search
of all districts, airports...

Ernst! Let me remind you
he's dangerous.

He's raped and killed women,
and killed a man.

He's unpredictable.

- What about Henriette?
- What about her? I don't know.

I said Gaby would be
on that path at 5.

She knows I can't run.
Could you do it?

Nope. It's a girls' thing.
I won't do it.

You can run part of the way
and then...

I won't do it.
I won't.

How can I make her go for a run?
Lie to her?

She deserves
a good hens' night.

I won't do it.

- I don't get it either.
- No.

Shut down Unit One?
What age are we living in?

Where's the continuity,
the sense of history?

Aren't you successful?
A very high detection rate...

But?

I've talked to the minister.
He agrees completely.

If one considers
value for money,

your popularity with the public,
the press, TV...

Hi.

Well?

Still, the minister doesn't think
he can interfere

with administrative details.

The responsibility lies with
the chief of police. I'm sorry.

Yes...
That's not much help.

Don't take it personally, eh?

Of course
you're out of sorts right now.

Unit One is your life's work.

We all understand.

But we must look to the future.

When you look at that report,
you'll find some substance in it.

Yes, you're probably right.

Of course I am.
We mustn't tilt at windmills.

Christian...

You're a born politician...
not to be trusted.

IP...

Please, you're sitting on...

What were you saying?

I have a problem
I'd like you to help me solve.

My dad isn't coming
to my wedding so...

would you
walk me up the aisle?

Would I?

Yes, but what do I wear?

It doesn't matter.
I'll iron the shirt.

Come off it.
I'll do that myself.

Listen, Ingrid...

A constable
at Copenhagen Central Station

saw Simon pick up a ticket
for the train to Hamburg at 16.41.

- He must be stopped.
- Really? No kidding!

- Good.
- Shall I go?

You wouldn't catch him
even if you'd left yesterday.

The police have cordoned off
the station.

Good.

I shouldn't take credit
for the handling of this case.

I don't seem to have a direct line
to such exalted levels.

But there's a press conference
in 15 minutes.

- Would you object if...
- No. You're welcome.

We're almost done.

Yes.

- Should we go for a run, Gaby?
- What?

I thought we could go for a run.
I got your gear.

I don't get it. Why?

Fischer wants to talk to you.

- Let's do it.
- Yes, okay.

Hi, Johnny.

Yes, I think we've just finished.
Come and get the mobile office.

What happened?

She broke down.
I had to hospitalise her.

She started talking
about her life with Simon...

It made my flesh crawl!

Well...

- Take care.
- Bye.

- Shall we go?
- Yes. This way.

Fischer, what did you want
to talk about?

Yes, well...

- Listen, I think...
- Yes?

I think that...

Bloody hell!

- What happened?
- I twisted it.

- Are you okay?
- Yeah, yeah.

Listen, I'll limp back.
You go on, all right?

- Shouldn't I go with you?
- No, go on. I'll limp back.

- You needn't limp, Fischer.
- Have a nice day.

Copenhagen Central Station
16.35, Wednesday October 31

I can hear you, Fischer!

Police!

He's here.

He's right here.

- Where's Gaby?
- What?

- Where's Gaby?
- She's with you.

To be continued...