All language subtitles for Crossing.Lines.S02E07.The.Velvet.Glove.1080p.NF.WEB-DL.DD5.1.H.264-SiGMA_track3_[eng]

[man yelling indistinctly]

[man yelling indistinctly]

Why are you doing this? Why?

Andrej?

Is anybody there?

Oh... Andrej?

Andrej!

Andrej?

Oh, Andrej...

Nora?

Thank God you came.

What have those monsters

done to you?

It pleased me greatly that

I would be spending my supper

discussing something other

than the Universality

and the Full Implementation

of the Rome Statute.

I can't imagine why.

It sounds gripping.

You have that look

in your eyes, Miles.

You have something more down

to earth to talk about,

don't you?

Fact is, I need your help.

About three years ago,

a priest walks

into Scotland Yard,

says he thinks one of his

parishioners has been murdered.

This elderly gent,

excellent health,

full possession of all

his faculties and so forth.

Meets a girl, they get on.

He breaks his leg.

She takes up residence

to aid his recovery.

He sickens and dies.

And then the girl just...

up and disappears.

Evidence of foul play?

No. That's when the priest finds

out that they were married.

Not even a proper wedding,

some scribble in a book

at some registry office.

The priest is suspicious.

Especially because the deceased

was a religious man,

and a wealthy one.

Well, gold-digging is

the world's second oldest

profession,

and there is no law against it.

But last year,

the same thing happens again.

A rich old cove

meets a girl, an accident,

and his maker

in quick succession.

Except this time the victim,

or, rather, alleged victim,

is a retired M.P.

Straight away I pop 'round

to interview the widow,

but now it's the extended family

that are blocking my progress.

But you know me,

I'm not one to shy away

from a challenge.

No one ever accused you

of being shy, Miles.

But you know as well as I do

that we do not take a case

-unless...

-Unless.

I'm sitting having

my toast this morning,

and a human interest story

comes on the telly.

A woman in the Czech Republic

has gone to the press

saying that her beloved landlord

has been murdered,

and it's the same story,

a rich old corpse,

a hungry young bride.

Identical circumstances?

Pretty damning.

And it's a fresh case.

The widow is still in residence.

So if we move fast--

You mean

if our team moves fast.

Exactly. I can't justify

ignoring the pattern

in these cases any longer.

Who knows how many men

have been killed?

Or who could be next.

How much longer,

my angel?

Not long now, darling.

Andrej Havran was a good man

who fell victim

to a heartless fraud.

A person who led him to believe

that she cared for him

more than his wealth.

Now Andrej is dead.

That has all the hallmarks

of these two deaths that Miles

has been investigating

in London.

Yermak Trigorin,

92-year-old

former Russian Cossack.

Emigrated to London in 1958.

Made his fortune

in manufacturing.

Regular churchgoer,

no immediate family.

When he had the misfortune

to meet Josie Miller in 2011,

he was a relatively healthy man.

She moved in,

nine months later, he was dead.

Next, Jerome McEwan.

Widower and retired Member

of Parliament for Enfield North.

He met Brittany Campion in 2012.

Dead before

their first anniversary.

The widow disappeared before

I was able to question her.

And now, this new case

in Prague.

Same in every detail,

down to the debilitating

accident

not long after the flame of love

was kindled, as it were.

And in each instance,

the young woman insisted

that she be the one to nurse

the invalid back to health.

They did a shite job of it.

And between injury and death

is when the marriages happened?

Could it be

a coincidence?

I have two enemies,

criminals and coincidences.

And travellers.

I already mentioned criminals.

So this Nora Skalova,

she's a real game changer,

publicly taking on

this black widow.

Black widow?

Black widow spiders.

The females mate, and then

they eat their husbands.

How are they doing it?

The same as spiders do,

I suspect. Poison.

If this is epidemic,

how has nobody noticed it yet?

Well, poison can be the most

difficult thing to prove

if you're not looking for it.

The effects can mirror

natural deterioration.

Exactly. If a specific

toxicology test isn't ordered,

cause of death

can be easily misdiagnosed.

Tommy, Arabela,

go to Prague,

find out about

this recently deceased man.

How about Eva and I go to London

and check out those cold cases?

Might not find anything.

Sometimes old men just die.

Old men always die.

Sometimes they're

hastened into their grave.

I mean, come on.

Do you really think they've

got anything in common?

I don't know.

My grandparents had

30 years between them,

and they were together

their whole lives.

Ageist.

No, look, I mean, I get it

from the man's perspective.

He's got a hot young bird,

nurse's outfit, pushing him

around in his wheelchair.

Of course he's in love.

But what about the girl?

Her friends are all at

nightclubs, and she's changing

her husband's nappies?

Some women are comforted

by having a father figure.

Not every woman wants

an unreliable lad your age.

Aye, and the money

doesn't hurt, either.

Along with wisdom and maturity,

yes, often comes wealth.

But if it helps smooth out

the wrinkles, so what?

I could fall in love

with an older man.

Could fall or have fallen?

You got a secret

little sugar daddy

there somewhere, Seeger,

you're not telling us about?

Says here that

the men died of natural causes.

Cardiopulmonary arrest,

acute gastroenteritis...

And no autopsies performed.

Just what part of "Get it done"

do you not understand, Charles?

Did you order

an exhumation?

The family of the Right

Honourable M.P. McEwan

forbade it.

As for Trigorin...

the Ministry insists

on more than just my hunch.

Well, if we need proof

of poison, the corpse

is the best place to look.

No doubt. I still think there's

a chance we could find something

at their homes.

Oh. No. The Trigorin house

was sold almost immediately

after his death.

The McEwan estate

is still held in probate.

The extended family

tried to challenge

the will and failed.

Then, the grieving widow,

Brittany, signed over

the property

to a git called Tas,

claiming to be her cousin.

-Think he's the pimp?

-He certainly looks like one.

Let's go visit this Tas.

I have copies of banking

and investment records.

These are from before the

victims met their new brides,

and these are after.

I've highlighted

the transactions of interest.

Note the high increase

of withdrawals, 5,000 pounds

here. 10,000 pounds there.

After the women

enter their lives.

An identical pattern

to Mr. Havran's statements

from Czech National Bank.

Unfortunately,

it is not probative.

You might be able

to prove fraud,

probably elder abuse,

but not murder.

They were bleeding

these men dry.

Any attorney

worth their salt

will be able to get them off

with the most minor

of penalties.

Well, if they steal

enough money, maybe they

can run for public office.

We need solid evidence,

or this investigation

will not proceed.

Keep searching.

Detectives McConnell

and Seeger.

We called ahead to see

the body of Andrej Havran.

I'm sorry, those remains

are being cremated

at this very minute.

Well, call them to stop it

right now.

Where's the furnace room?

I spoke with

the widow myself.

She specifically requested

we rush the work.

And you didn't

find that odd?

It's not unusual.

She wanted the remains

for a memorial service.

We made an official

police request.

And there was

an unfortunate mix-up.

You have just cost us

very important evidence.

She certainly

doesn't waste any time.

Rushed to cremation,

no autopsy?

A fine way to get rid

of your victims.

We need to speak to

the last person

who saw him alive.

Nice car.

Business must be good.

I see you upgraded

your own ride.

Is that supposed

to be funny?

Is he a funny guy?

You said he was stupid,

not suicidal.

I'm gonna sue

your whole lot for harassment.

Do you know, I noticed

an outstanding warrant

for suspicion

of handling stolen goods.

December 11th, last year.

We're here to search the house.

Bollocks.

That's no grounds.

You're Anastas Cooper, right?

And this is your house?

Then according to

this here search warrant...

it is grounds.

Am I under arrest?

No. You're free to go.

Wanker.

Andrej Havran. Age 93.

Admitted on the

20th of last month.

Oh, renal failure,

heart arrhythmia,

loss of appetite.

We kept him hydrated,

made him comfortable.

-He died four days later

in his sleep.

-Why no autopsy?

Nothing indicated

a post-mortem exam

would be necessary.

Would it have been necessary

if it was your own father?

Detective,

I don't care for your tone,

and I owe you no explanation

of my decisions.

We gave Mr. Havran

the best possible care.

The symptoms--

The symptoms were those

of a very old man letting go

of his life.

Quite a haul.

God, I wish people could have

more respect for the elderly.

If you want respect,

you gotta die young.

You never hear about

the tragic death

of an old person.

My father died young.

There were so many

old people at his funeral.

We were part of

a big family.

I used to spend time

when I was back home.

Believe it or not,

I used to cook for them.

I remember listening

to their stories.

I learned so much

from them.

I'm sure they learned

a lot from you too.

Yeah...

I mean, this is disgraceful,

these are men who fought wars,

who served their countries.

They're just used up

and thrown away like nothing.

Reduced to a few possessions.

You know, I've got to tell you,

Tas hasn't left much for us

to work with.

Well, if we are going to find

anything, it's going to be

wherever he sleeps.

Yeah.

I'd hate to see what the ScanGen

could pick up in here.

Jesus Christ.

Look at that.

They look like more

than just cousins.

That might be helpful,

Brittany's long blonde hair.

Until we can get her in person,

her hair will have to do.

Yeah.

Let's look for tickets,

receipts, anything

that can get us to--

Where do you think

you're going?

This yours?

What were you doing in there?

Look, my great uncle

is in trouble.

He married

his bitch of a nurse...

Stop, whoa, whoa...

Who's your uncle?

Herbert Baxendale.

Do we have a live one?

Of course I disapproved.

This little tart, Sabina,

gets a ring on his finger,

changes his will,

-starts emptying out

his bank accounts--

-Lawrence--

I followed Sabina

to that house more than once.

She's shagging that

yellow-haired Neanderthal,

I'm sure of it.

Are you sure you follow

her around just

for your uncle's sake?

Or do you just like to...

follow her around?

What are you implying?

We're cops. We don't imply.

Did you catch them?

Catch them what?

In flagrante.

No. Well, not exactly.

But that's why

I was there today.

-So you could watch them

have sex.

-Look, I...

I just need something

to prove to Uncle Edward

that she's not

who she says she is.

I think he's going senile.

He already has

advanced renal failure, and--

-Are you a doctor?

-No, I'm a financial analyst.

But I know he needs dialysis

twice weekly.

I know these drugs

she's giving him

are putting his only kidney

under extra strain.

I... I'm worried for him.

Lawrence...

are you aware of what happened

to the previous owner

of the house you broke into?

Okay, bye for now, mate.

That was Hickman.

Their cold case in London

just got hot.

-Another victim?

-Victim in progress.

And a suspect.

The plot thickens.

So this is the building

Mr. Havran owned?

Neo-Renaissance. Very nice.

Shame for the view.

I can see why he made

a good mark. Right, his flat

was on the top floor,

and the neighbour,

Nora Skalova, was on the second.

Shall we?

I am sorry about

the temperature.

My new landlady has

shut off my heat.

Her latest ploy.

To get you out of the building?

Payback for my press conference.

And that boyfriend of hers!

Jude, he calls himself.

Dumps rubbish in front

of my door and harasses me

in the hallways.

Has he gotten physical

with you?

Worse. Legal.

-She claims I tried

to attack her.

-Yes, we're very aware of that.

Emily Havran has filed

a restraining order against you.

Sounds like they're looking

for grounds for eviction.

I've lived here

for 18 years.

And since she moved in,

they have scared most

of the tenants and doubled

the rents.

When did you first notice

a change in Mr. Havran's health?

Almost immediately.

He was in magnificent condition

for a man his age.

We used to ice-skate together.

Can you imagine?

A 90-year-old man

on ice skates?

But then he deteriorated,

rapidly.

The other day, I could see

all his windows open,

and it was bitter cold.

So I let myself into his flat.

Well, that could be interpreted

as breaking and entering.

It was unlocked.

And anyway,

he gave me a key years ago.

The state of the place was...

It was a mess.

It stank of vomit.

Emily was rarely there.

She was probably living

the high life at some

ritzy hotel

while poor Andrej

wasted away up there,

lying in his own filth.

And that's when

you called the authorities?

Yes, but she was

now his wife.

I had no right to interfere.

You know she wouldn't even

let me visit when he went

into the hospital?

Have you left all this rubbish

in the hallway again?

I'm sick and tired

of your disgusting habits.

This is a respectable residence.

Calm down, ma'am.

Don't come near me. I have

a good mind to call the police.

We are the police.

I want you gone

by tomorrow.

I'd call this a fire hazard.

501. There.

Police. We know you're home.

You.

May we come in?

-No. You may not.

-Whatever you're selling,

we don't want.

Just want to talk

to the missus, mate.

About what?

Littering.

Either arrest her

or go away.

Actually, I think we have

everything we need.

Detective?

See you later, man.

Did you get a whiff

of that place?

Lemon oil and fresh air.

Nora told us

it was a complete mess.

There's been

a proper cleaning.

Wonder when bin day is.

You can learn a lot about people

by what's in their trash. Ugh...

Including some things

you'd rather not know.

Here we go.

Andrej Havran.

Eastern Orthodox prayer beads.

I guess they didn't think

they were worth anything.

Human remains?

If these teeth could talk...

Maybe they can.

Sabina, I've brought some people

to speak with Uncle Edward.

So, Lawrence, you've contacted

the police, have you?

Actually, we contacted him.

We're sorry to intrude.

We'd like to know if we could...

speak to you for a moment, sir?

I was just about

to prepare some tea.

-May I join you?

-Of course.

Mr. Baxendale--

-Edward, please.

-Edward.

I'm Detective Carl Hickman

from the ICC.

The International

Criminal Court.

We have reason to believe

that your wife may be--

I know! I know.

I am sick of all you Calvinists

telling me I can't buy

a young woman's love. Hmm?

Why can't I?

Lawrence put you up to this,

didn't he?

He's afflicted

with envy and greed.

I don't have to listen to this.

He's always been a petulant boy!

Now, are you

going to lecture me?

Because if you are,

you can get out as well.

I don't...

I don't care if you marry

the Archbishop of Canterbury.

To each his own.

But if somebody is trying

to kill you, I care a lot.

Kill me?

You see...

That's the Taverner Problem.

Black's got, what,

19 possible moves?

But all of them result

in checkmate.

White to move, mate in two.

Now, tell me, what is this

about me getting killed?

He's quite a spirited man,

your husband.

He reminds me a little bit

of my father.

Your father must be

a lovely man.

He was.

I'm sorry to hear that.

I'm doing my best to keep Teddy

with me as long as possible.

It must be really hard

for you to look after him

all by yourself.

Do you keep track of

all this medicine on your own?

I do.

Do you go out much? I mean,

do you have time for yourself?

Not much, but I don't mind.

I'm a homebody.

Are you happy?

Poisoning me?

It's a possibility

we are currently looking into.

Edward, your welfare

is our direct concern.

You know, Detective,

I don't mind if she does

poison me.

Come again?

You see that picture

on the mantle over there?

That's me and my dear

departed Jane at our cottage.

She treated me like a king.

It was bliss.

I tell you, I never thought

I'd meet anyone so lovely again.

Until I met Sabina, that is.

When you're married to an angel,

you're always ready for heaven.

Was your angel with you

when you broke your hip?

It wasn't her,

if that's what you're saying.

She was miles away.

It was some bloke on a motorbike

who ran me down in front

of a tobacconist's.

Hair like a girl's.

We have reason to believe

that there are male accomplices

involved as well.

Look, I really don't care

what you do with your money

or your love life.

If you want to,

and we would like you to,

clear away any doubt

about Sabina,

come down to Scotland Yard

and give us a blood sample.

If it's clean, she's clear.

Absolutely not.

Several men

in your exact situation

have already died.

If Sabina does want

to do away with me,

at least I'll die smiling.

What was that big exit

all about?

If there's one thing

our family excels at,

it's guilt trips.

In 2008,

I finally convinced Edward

to let me invest some

of the money he was stuffing

the mattress with.

Six weeks later,

the market crashed.

How much did you lose?

Oh, plenty.

Not as much as he's lost

on that slag, mind you, but...

but he'll never let me

forget it.

Any news on our widows?

Yeah, this just

came in from the lab, sir.

The DNA on Brittany McEwan's

hairbrush in London

is a match to the saliva

on Emily Havran's cigarette

in Prague.

-The same DNA?

-And that got me thinking...

Have a look.

This is Brittany McEwan.

Blonde hair, brown eyes,

tanned, slim build.

This is Emily, red hair,

blue eyes, fair skinned,

smaller nose,

much larger... blouse size.

They are the same person.

Or twins.

Well, if I were a betting man,

which, of course, I'm not...

I'd say same person.

Plastic surgery, dye job.

Tanning bed.

Coloured contact lenses.

We just got off

the phone with the lab.

The dental bridge found

in Emily Havran's trash

is confirmed to be that

of Andrej Havran.

And the toxicology screening?

A piece of food in the teeth

came back positive

for Digitalis.

Yes, it's derived from

the leaves and seeds

of the foxglove plant.

It's a cardiac stimulant

used in the treatment

of congestive heart disease.

Fatal in quantity.

But Havran was not

taking that drug.

Neither were

the other victims.

Let me get this straight,

Emily and Brittany are

the same person.

Emily was poisoning Mr. Havran,

and Sabina was visiting

Brittany.

Which is why Lawrence thought

she was having an affair.

They're all connected.

Yes!

Right, let's go order

those exhumations.

And let's bring in our suspects.

They bugged out.

-You guys, upstairs.

-Yes, sir.

Oh, man.

There's nobody here, sir!

-They got him.

-You see this?

-What?

-Foxglove.

Poison in plain sight.

Thank you for coming, Louis.

We need all the help we can get.

I put out an All Ports Warning

for Edward Baxendale and the

other four suspects.

These women could have

new aliases by now.

Stolen identities.

False passports.

Well, if they were all

so suspicious,

why not just kill Edward now?

I mean, he can only

slow them down.

I don't really get it.

Unless they plan

to hold him for ransom.

Hey!

I thought you were some sort of

elite crime fighting force.

And you lose a stupid girl

and a diabetic old man?

If he doesn't get

his dialysis soon, he'll die,

and it will be your fault.

Are you happy with that?

What's this?

Oh, I think you know, Larry.

Detective Berger here

can find anything

if there's a record of it.

Yet he can't seem to find

where you invested

200,000 pounds

of your uncle's savings?

Huh? Ring a bell?

-That doesn't mean that I--

-Bullshit.

You'd been shorting

your own stocks for months

before the market tanked.

'Cause you saw it

coming, huh?

You're a pusillanimous prig.

Stealing from your own family?

You're nothing more

than a petty scam merchant.

You'll be hearing

from my solicitors.

Do people really say that?

Assholes do.

I've got something.

Pusillanimous?

I've been tracking

the Baxendales' bank

and credit cards.

There was a cash machine

withdrawal at the bank

near Bristol.

This was

recorded a few hours ago.

Just Sabina?

None of her co-conspirators?

No...

No sign of Edward Baxendale,

either.

But why take him to Bristol?

Wait a minute.

Edward said he had

a vacation house.

Was there any mention of this

in his records, tax returns,

anything?

I haven't seen anything

about a second home.

Well, maybe it belongs

to his late wife's family.

Devon.

Miles, what do you think?

Judging by their clothes,

they're off hunting.

There's loads

of shooting estates down there.

Not the best quality image,

but by extrapolating

the natural contours

and comparing to a topographical

map of shooting estates

in that area,

I might be able to pinpoint

the location.

How far by helicopter?

About an hour.

Carl.

Look at that artefact

in the corner.

Must be a glitch.

It's in the original photo

too, you see?

Wait a minute.

Hound Tor is an ancient

granite outcrop 414 metres tall.

That's why it's visible

from the cottage.

And a known quantity.

So if we use that as scale

for distance from the house...

The cottage

is four degrees north

and five kilometres distant

from the Hound Tor landmark.

Moretonhampstead, Devon.

Coordinates 50.39.37 North,

03.46.02 West.

Roger that.

What a happy couple.

No kids?

Nope.

The world could definitely

use more good people

raising children.

I know we never

talked about this...

But I really think you're gonna

be an amazing father, Sebastian.

I can't help but worry I'm

going to screw him up somehow.

Well, I guess that's normal,

but you are a good man,

yes, with a big heart,

and you're honest--

yes, you are.

You're going to do fine.

My father was, um...

a crook and a liar,

and I turned out

quite well anyway.

I think I did.

Well...

There!

Take it down. Now.

Check... mate.

All clear.

So, what is this, Sabina?

Is this some kind of sisterhood

of the Black Widows? What?

Your wife is part of

a murder-for-profit gang

that's poisoned three men.

God knows how many more.

That makes them

serial killers.

-Yes, I know.

-I'm sorry?

She was just telling me now

about her cousin.

What a terrible woman.

Not a patch on my Sabina.

I can't lie for Josie anymore.

Josie...

As in Josie Trigorin?

Yeah, and Brittany McEwan,

and Emily Havran,

and any other aliases

you'd like to share with us?

And I'm guessing that

you're aware that your cousin

and her two boyfriends

are on the run?

I don't know where they are.

You expect us

to believe that?

For all we know,

you're the ringleader.

Or is it this Tas

or the other guy in Prague?

They're just dumb muscle.

Josie is the one in charge.

How did you get involved?

My father left us

when I was ten.

Josie supported me and my mum.

She paid for

my education.

So you feel

you're in her debt?

At first she told me

all I had to do was...

charm an old man and make him

fall in love with me.

The old man was me,

of course.

At least we've got that

to thank her for.

The angel of death

plays matchmaker.

She threatened my mum.

I told her I would do it,

and that's when I found out

she was killing them.

I even made the poison once,

but I...

couldn't go through with it.

Nobody has ever been

so good to me as Teddy.

And Josie got suspicious?

That's when she started sending

Tas 'round to threaten me.

Then Lawrence showed up,

and now you guys.

I think I've heard

just about enough.

Let's wrap this up and take

these two down to the nick.

Hold on a second.

Just... hold on a second.

Josie's been doing this

for three years, at least,

and she probably could have

gotten away with it

for another decade,

but she got greedy and she tried

to franchise the operation.

But I'm... I'm thinking...

I'm thinking that she's not

willing to let this big fish

off the hook.

No offense.

Sabina...

you must have some way

worked out where

you contact each other, right?

Disposable phones.

I text the number,

and she calls back.

I'm so sorry, Josie.

I was getting paranoid

with the police hanging 'round

all the time.

And then his wretched

nephew, Lawrence.

This is no time

for a mini-break, Sabina.

If you can't control an old man

who can hardly walk,

what good are you?

I'll do better.

Well, this is why you need me,

Sabina. Not your daddy.

I take care of you,

I offer you this amazing

opportunity, and you run off

when I need you most?

But I... I have a lead.

Lawrence has been siphoning

money off of Edward

for years now.

I think I can get to it,

but I'll need your help.

How much?

Half a million or more.

All right.

Shall I come

to the flat in Prague?

No, not there.

Let's meet someplace public.

Someplace busy.

I'll let you know where

and when.

Everybody in position?

Standing by.

Line of sight.

There.

Emily Havran is approaching

the main entrance

of the Wilsonova.

Anybody make the accomplices?

If they're here,

they're staying out of sight.

Oh, they're here.

I can feel it.

Watch everybody.

Cousin.

Thank God you came.

When have I ever

let you down? Never.

So, who did you bring?

The police? The nephew?

You said to come alone.

Sabina, you never listen.

Why start now?

Are you ready to go on a trip?

You didn't say anything about...

A trip where?

The end of the line.

What was that?

An attack.

It looks like steam,

not smoke.

Maybe a dry ice bomb.

It's a diversion.

Keep your eyes open.

Son of a bitch!

Find Sabina!

She can't be far.

Louis, Emily Havran is on her

way. She's coming toward you.

We can't lose them!

They cannot get out this way.

Watch the trains!

Guard the exits.

I've got eyes on Tas.

Midway down Track One

with Sabina in tow.

I got him, I got him, I got him.

Stop! Police!

Hickman!

Hickman!

Carl! Eva! Do you copy?

They're fine.

The local cops have

the suspects in custody.

I just reviewed

Josie Miller's deposition.

She says her mother started

this whole killing business

years ago.

We have decades of victims.

So this crime ring

was more of a family affair

than we thought.

"Was" being the operative word.

Miles Lennon sends

his gratitudes.

Josie Miller is

a bona fide psychopath.

I asked her

if she had any regrets,

and she said well, it took up

so much of her time,

she regretted not having

been able to kill them faster.

I suppose we all live

with regrets.

Sir, Dorn...

Toxicology report just came in.

So, uh, that cheap pine box

Josie used to bury Mr. Trigorin

in didn't do us any

favours.

Unfortunately, the body was too

badly decomposed for analysis.

And Mr. McEwan?

Mr. McEwan was, as we know,

a high profile man,

so he pre-paid

all his funeral arrangements,

so the body

was pretty well preserved.

Tissue from his liver

was positive for digitalis.

Well, that puts paid

to Ms. Miller.

We have everything we need

to send her to prison till she's

as old as her victims were.

What about Sabina Baxendale?

Miles struck a deal with her.

For full cooperation,

she'll be released tomorrow.

Did anyone talk to Carl?

He's taking the weekend off.