All language subtitles for Basic Instinct 2 subtitles Arabic

Guess what.

What?

I can't move.

Yeah, well, you don't have to.
You're in a car.

Am I driving?

Like a pro.

Come on, wake up, you fuck.
Come on.

Did you try to help him get free?

Briefly.

Briefly?

When it came down to it, my life
was more important to me than his.

Selfish, huh?

We found these...

...in your Spider.

Actually, I don't drive a Spider
anymore.

Now I have a C8 Laviolette.

It's lighter, faster...

...swims better.

Right.

These three contain traces
of ketamine...

...the same as we found in your blood
and his.

This one had pure D-Tubocurarine,
DTC...

...which we only found in him.

Must've been something
he took at the party.

No. DTC is not a party drug.

Along with the other stuff in his blood,
it paralyzed his lungs.

Kevin Franks did not drown.

He had already stopped breathing
by the time you drove off the road.

He was breathing
when we went off the road.

How do you know?

He was making me come.

What? You were having sex
at 100 miles an hour?

Hundred and ten.
I must've hit a pothole.

Your friend, Dickie Pep...

...says he sold you 15 milliliters
of DTC last Thursday.

I don't know any Dickie Pep,
but he's lying.

Or you are.

Why would he lie?

You got him on some other charge
and he's trying to deal his way out.

If he even exists.

You don't seem too upset by what's
happened.

Of course I am, I'm traumatized.

Who knows if I'll ever come again?

I want that cunt in jail.

We haven't got a case, Roy.

Well, just fucking make one. Please.

They'll order a psychiatric for bail.

I'll make sure we get somebody
good and tough.

Dr. Glass. I'm Henry Rose,
Miss Tramell's solicitor.

This is Catherine Tramell.

I shall be present during
the evaluation.

Well, that's fine by me.

I'll be asking fairly personal questions.
If she doesn't mind your presence...

My client understands and agrees
I should be present for...

Maybe Dr. Glass is right
and we should be alone for this.

I strongly advise you
not to contemplate having...

So is this where
we're going to do it?

Mr. Rose told you the purpose
of this evaluation.

I'm applying for bail in a murder case.

The Crown wants to know
if I'm a danger to myself or others.

You're the Crown's shrink,
so you'll say I'm dangerous.

My shrink will say I'm not,
and the judge will flip a coin.

Anything you tell me can be quoted
verbatim in testimony...

...and can affect your case.

You can quote me all you want.

Thank you.

Well, I see that you're a writer.

What do you write about?

Murder, sex, violence.

Do you ever write about yourself?

Not into autobiography.

Really? Why not?

Maybe I like to just sit back and get
other people to reveal themselves.

For instance,
you look a little divorced.

What makes you think I'm divorced?

The ring line hasn't faded.

You're very observant.

Yeah, but am I wrong?

Would it bother you
if you were wrong?

Would it bother you if I was right?

Tell me something you're afraid of.

Boredom.

Is that why you like to take risks?

I do like to take risks.

Like taking drugs and having sex
in a speeding car?

Like talking to me
without having your lawyer present?

Actually, that was your idea.

Like being on trial for murder? That's
risky. You could end up in prison.

Not if I'm innocent.

Innocent people end up in prison
all the time.

Not rich, innocent people who are
represented by Henry Rose.

In that case, it isn't really exciting
unless you're guilty.

Oh, I bet you like to take risks,
don't you, Dr. Glass?

But I'm not the one who's on trial
for murder.

Not yet.

Sorry, you're not allowed
to smoke in here.

You know what I like about you?

You enjoy being in control.

Like me.

Sorry, sir. Can't let you through here.

Well, I would say extremely intelligent.
Gifted, accomplished.

Yet inside, I believe...

...she vacillates between
a feeling of godlike omnipotence...

...and a sense
that she simply doesn't exist...

...which, of course, is intolerable.

Do you consider Miss Tramell to be
mentally impaired?

Not by legal definition, no. Not at all.

If released, is she likely
to commit a violent crime?

I believe her behavior is driven
by what we call a risk addiction.

A compulsive need to prove to herself
that she can take risks...

...and survive dangers others can't.

Especially the subsequent encounters
with the police or the powers that be.

Why would a person do that?

The greater the risk, the greater the
proof of her omnipotence.

Her existence, really.

When you say she has
a risk addiction...

...is this condition likely to get
worse?

All addiction is progressive.

The addict always needs to take
greater risks.

If other people are hurt or killed...

...as a result of her behavior,
that's not likely to stop her?

I think the only thing
that'd stop her...

I suspect the only limit for her
would be her own death.

Then she is a danger to herself.

Yes, I believe she is.

Nice work, Michael. Well done.

Dr. Glass, did Catherine Tramell
kill Kevin Franks?

No, I can't make any comment, sorry.

Can you please tell us about the bail?

Dr. Michael Glass. What a big thing
you are all of a sudden.

What are you doing here, Adam?
Don't say you're writing about Tramell.

A sexy, omnipotent killer
with a Random House contract.

Why would I write that?

You don't know she's a killer.

No, but I hope she is, though.
I mean, I pray to God she is.

By the way, I hear you were
brilliant in there.

You're so lucid sometimes,
it's just disgusting.

You thought about daytime television?

Denise always says you were born
for the small screen.

And how is my wife these days?
Having fun?

Ex-wife, Michael. Ex-wife.

While we're chatting about killers...

...is there any chance of talking about
George Cheslav?

Who told you about Cheslav?

Denise?

That's got to be any shrink's worst
nightmare.

A patient in your care
suddenly runs amok...

...beats his girlfriend to death
with a brick.

That was seven years ago,
why talk about it now?

Not quite seven, actually.
Seven in July.

But you talked to him twice a week.
He never indicated he'd harm the girl?

I don't talk about my patients.

Cheslav's dead. Can't you talk
about them when they're dead?

No, not even when they're dead.

Michael, what are you doing here?

What did you tell Adam Towers
about George Cheslav?

Nothing.

Can you give us a minute?

He already knew.

Really? Because he said you told him.

No, all I said was...

If he writes about that, if he puts it
on his magazine cover...

He won't. You're just being paranoid.

You didn't do anything wrong.

Right. I didn't. I was treating a patient
that killed his pregnant girlfriend.

End of story.
You make sure he gets that.

Don't worry.

I'm up for the Douglas Chair
at the university.

You know what that means to me.
Do you think this is going to help?

I can't tell Adam what to write.

Why not?

Don't be stupid.

I think you're entitled to since you've
been fucking him for over a year.

Do you think I didn't know
when it started?

It's a pity you never asked yourself
why it started.

How was the court case
with the mystery writer?

I hear she looks fabulous.

Also very intelligent.
Pathological liar. Narcissistic.

Seductive, manipulative.

Do you think she killed the footballer?

I have no idea.

Everything she does is so perfectly
composed.

It's designed to confuse
or confound you.

You never know what's truth
and what isn't. She's brilliant, really.

The masked psychotic. Your favorite.

I'm already working it into a paper:
"Risk Addiction and Omnipotence."

You're writing another already?

I'm writing two,
but this is the more interesting.

I'll catch you up.

Hello?

Glass? It's Roy Washburn.
Are you near a television set?

If you'll be quiet, I'll make a
statement.

What happened?

The judge let her go.

Let her go? Why?

The guy who said
he sold her the D TC...

...the judge found out he'd perjured
himself in another case...

...and disqualified him as a witness.
But I'll make you a bet.

What's that?

She'll do it again.

And soon.

Only this time
I will fucking nail the bitch.

So we've been considering those who
wish to control others...

...through their insecurity and their
narcissism.

To study Nietzsche
psychobiographically may seem naive.

Wasn't it Nietzsche's work itself,
which...

...through deconstructive and
post-structuralist readings...

...induced the death of
psychobiography?

Paul Portman said he might go
to Tavistock. I'm thinking I might go.

Just be patient.
Stay where you are for about a year.

- But there's nothing holding me.
- Trust me.

You know Dr. Gerst?

Michael Glass.

It's a pleasure.

I saw your review of my book.

You didn't understand what I was
saying about the analytic field.

Towards the end you made one or two
interesting remarks.

Maybe one of these days
we can discuss it.

I'd be honored. Thank you very much.

"One or two interesting remarks"?

That was a compliment, Michelle.
Dr. Gerst was very impressed.

And it appears that our Michael
has just been knighted.

Cheers.

Congratulations.

- Can I ask you a question?
- Sure.

Every day I see you writing and I am
thinking, "What is he writing about?"

Is it a novel?

No, but there was a novelist in it.

Really? Who?

I can't tell you that.
Otherwise I'd have to kill you.

Must be someone famous, then.

Excuse me. Dr. Glass?

I'm Peter Ristedes.
Adam Towers' assistant.

Urbane magazine.

Mind if I join you?

Adam asked me to see if you'd give us
a quote for the article he's writing.

I believe he mentioned it to you.

He didn't seem to think
you'd want to talk to him.

I'll take that as a "no comment," then?

Dr. Glass?

Miss Tramell.

What are you doing here?

I wanted to talk to you.

About the evaluation.

Some of the things you said,
I've been thinking about them a lot.

I'm sorry you had to hear all that.

Got a minute?

Come through.

What you said about me
being addicted to risk...

...about having to do more and more
dangerous things...

Well, after you said it...

...I realized I was...

...scared.

What exactly scared you?

For weeks before the accident
I was having the same...

...fantasy over and over again.

I even wrote about it.

The woman's driving in the car,
the man's making her come.

She drives off the road,
the man's killed.

I feel like maybe I made it all happen.

That's why I'm here.

Are you saying you'd like to
go into treatment?

Yeah.

Well, I think that's a very good idea.

I wouldn't be able to treat you, but I'd
be happy to refer you to a colleague.

Why can't you treat me?

It's not advisable for a doctor who's
done a forensic evaluation...

...to then become that person's
therapist.

Why not?

Therapy requires a great deal of trust,
which is difficult for most people.

It's best to start with a clean slate.

You mean you don't trust me.

What I said about you at the hearing
must have seemed very negative.

I'm sure you've got feelings about that.

I'd be happy referring you
to another doctor.

This is Dr. Milena Gardosh.
She has a clinic here in London.

You want to know the truth?

The reason I agreed to the evaluation
was because I thought it would be fun.

I never...

I never talked to anyone who...

My patient's here.

What do I owe you?

You don't owe me anything.

But if you'd like to call Dr. Gardosh,
I'm sure she can help you.

I don't shop around.

Like you said,
trust is very hard to come by.

I was hoping I might find it with you.

Listen, why don't we
schedule another meeting.

And then we can talk about this
when we're not so rushed.

You look different today. More relaxed.

The more nervous I am,
the more relaxed people think I am.

I wanted to talk about something you
brought up last Wednesday.

You said before the accident...

...you had fantasies of sexual
excitement and driving off the road.

Do you often have fantasies like that?

I have fantasies all the time.

Fantasies involving violence, death?

People die in my novels.

I have to think of new and interesting
ways to kill them.

What happens when
you don't take risks?

I'm sorry, there's no smoking in here.
It's a rule.

I don't like rules.

I have some of them,
and that's one of them.

After the hearing...

...I was interviewed by a reporter
from Urbane magazine.

Adam Towers. He said he knew you.

Slightly. Why?

He told me about the Cheslav case.

I was impressed by what you did.

You knew Cheslav was dangerous.

Still you protected him.

You honored his confidentiality...

...even at risk to yourself.

Do you think you made the right
decision?

Or do you think you fucked up?

Given what I knew at the time,
I made the right decision.

So you still believe in confidentiality.

Within legal limits.
What exactly are you concerned with?

If I told you
that I killed Kevin Franks...

...would you report me to the police?

No.

Anything that happened in the past,
I wouldn't discuss outside this room.

But if you told me you were going to
murder someone specifically...

...and I thought you were serious...

...then, yes, I'd go to the police.

I might be manipulating you
to create risk for myself.

Do you want to talk about
what happened to Kevin?

No, not really.

I was just checking your policy.

So have you decided?

About taking me on as a patient.

Shooter had an ex-wife,
a drinking problem...

...a drug problem, a complicated sex
problem he was barely aware of.

And a tremendous amount of
free-floating rage.

In short, he was a cop
and a very good one.

On March 3rd...

The woman knelt naked
at the foot of the bed.

Her back to him, her head on a pillow.

Shooter raked his fingers through her
blond hair and twisted it tight.

She groaned, her breath catching...

...as he suddenly yanked her hair like
a rider pulling on a horse's mane.

The veins on his arms bulged as
he roughly drew her onto him.

Do you remember
that cop Washburn?

To him, the fact that I wasn't upset
about Kevin Franks...

...was proof that I must've killed him.

Then, when I wouldn't break down...

...he hit on me.

Hit on you?

Yeah.

He said that if I fucked him things
would go easier.

Homicide cops
are usually smarter than that.

I knew one once, in San Francisco.

Nick Curran.

They called him Shooter.

We used to get in his car
and ride around...

...listening to 911 calls on his
scanner...

...then speed over.

Have you ever been to a murder scene
right after it happened?

The body's still warm.

The watch is still ticking.

You can smell the blood.

We'd hang around
for a while and then...

...go have sex in Nick's car.

Nick used to say:

"Death is always there.
It's the only thing that's real."

Except maybe sex sometimes.

But only sometimes?

Well...

...I fucked this guy last night.

I fucked him for hours.

You know,
we did everything to each other.

The full screaming Masters
and Johnson's greatest hits.

But you know, a week from now,
I probably won't even remember him.

But, if I was with him when he died...

Now...

...I probably would never forget that.

Would I?

Were you ever with anyone
when they died?

No.

Christ.

We still have 20 minutes left.

I feel like a cigarette.

See you tomorrow.

She just walked out?

How Lacanian.

For her, time's a weapon.

Everything's a weapon.
Everybody's an enemy.

Do you think she made it up about
the policeman? Washburn?

I don't know. It's so hard to believe
anything she says.

She's trying to seduce you.

They always try to seduce you.

Yes, but this one's different, isn't it?

I don't know. More fun maybe.

Be careful, Michael.

By the way, I got a call from that
reporter, Adam Towers.

What did he want?

I made everything sound boring.
I assured him he didn't have a story.

What if he calls others?
What if he calls Gerst?

Gerst won't talk to a popular magazine
reporter. Are you kidding?

Anyway, it was a successful paper.

Published, on this occasion,
under sole authorship.

Well, thank God for that.

Speaking of God, is Gerst coming?

We can only hope and pray.

That he comes or he doesn't?

I'm going for a smoke. Don't talk about
anything interesting till I get back.

How long have you lived here?

About six years, something like that.
Seven.

Hi, Dominic.

Hi, Milena.

Thank you.

The beauty about
antisocial behavior...

...is that it takes you away from other
people, however briefly.

You're not an analyst.

I'm a writer.

Really? What do you write about?

Oh, the lurid, the sexual, the violent.

The basic instincts.

They're the most powerful,
aren't they?

Milena.

Oh, Michael.

I'm sorry, I didn't ask your name.

Catherine Tramell. Milena Gardosh.

Oh, you're Dr. Gardosh.

I've heard so many wonderful things
about you.

Catherine.

There you are.

Milena, Dr. Glass.
I see you've met Catherine.

She's doing research for a novel about
an eminent psychoanalyst.

I thought she might enjoy an occasion
like this.

Well, may I take your coats?

Thank you.

Excuse me.

Would you put that in my pocket?

Certainly.

Catherine, come this way.

What's going on? What was Gerst
thinking of, bringing her here?

I'm sure he's no idea who she is.

Where did he meet her?

She would have met him, believe me.

I can't stay here while I've got
a patient here. I have to go.

I understand.

If you follow inter-subjectivity to its
natural end...

...aren't you asking who's the patient
and who's the doctor?

Those were my very words.

Very good.

Note that one for future reference.

Are you leaving because of me?

You must have known I'd be here.

Is that a problem?

I know some people who play tennis
with their shrinks.

I'm sure you do.

Have sex with them. Sell them drugs.
Work on their screenplays.

But I don't do that.

I was upset about our session today.

I felt I owed you an apology.

That's why I came.

We can go into that tomorrow.

I've got a better idea.

How about I ditch everybody
and we go somewhere for a drink.

I told you, I don't socialize with my
patients.

Another one of your rules?

Don't you get kind of tired of them?

You know, that's the nightmare
of shrinkdom, doctor.

Too many answers,
too many questions...

...nobody gets laid.

Okay, forget getting laid.

We'll just talk.

We'll talk tomorrow.

Michael. There you are.

Oh, my God. Did you see that woman
that Gerst brought with him?

No.

Actually, I was just looking for you.

What, in there?

I was looking for your coat.
I thought we could go for a drink.

If that's all right?

Yeah. Great.

What's wrong?

Turn around.

What?

Turn around.

Oh, God!

Michael, it's Denise!
Please pick up the phone! Please!

Michael, please pick up the phone!

Denise?

Hey, hey, hey. What's happened?

Thanks, guv.

Come in, Michael.

Hey, you okay?

Hey, what's going on?

It's okay, I'm here now. Okay?

Who lives here?

It's Adam's place.

Jesus.

What happened?

I don't know. The door was unlocked
and I just came in.

I just saw him lying there.

Have you called the police?

No. I was afraid.

Hello, Michael.

What are you doing here?

It's my wife. Well, my ex-wife.

She found him like that,
then she called me.

I see.

And how did she happen to
find him like that?

They'd been seeing each other and...

Oh, really?

Since when?

It's why I moved out.

So I assume you weren't
the best of friends?

No.

Yet I saw you talking to him
after the Tramell hearing.

It was just journalist stuff.

He was asking me questions about
Tramell.

Do you think she killed him?

Who?

Denise? No.

No, not a chance.

I've known her for a long time.
She could never do anything like that.

Listen, Roy, I've told my story twice
over. Is it all right if I go home?

All right.

Oh, by the way...

...this yours?

No, I just found it on the floor.

How did it end up in the rubbish?

I stepped on it. It was leaking.
I just threw it away.

Can I go?

Yes, by all means.

I assume you know Adam Towers
was killed.

Why would I know?

Because of Denise.

Denise?

Your wife. Your ex-wife.

I know who she is.
How do you know her?

Adam introduced us a couple of times.

It was all very open. I knew about her,
she knew about me.

Knew what about you?

That I was seeing him too.

The Masters and Johnson guy.
That was him.

So... You were sleeping
with Adam Towers?

Occasionally.

So, of course,
Washburn thinks I killed him.

Why would he think that?

I kill because I'm addicted to risk.
Or to prove that I exist.

I'm not sure which one it is.

I never said you killed anybody.

But you think I did.

You think I killed Kevin, and now
you're wondering if I killed Adam.

Why don't you just ask me?
Or is that too direct for you?

Did you kill him?

If I said I didn't,
would you believe me?

Depends.

On what?
The quality of my performance?

You know what?
I'm glad Adam Towers is dead.

And you should be glad too.

If you're too uptight,
I'll be glad for you.

Whoever killed him did you a favor.

Favor?

If he'd written that article on Cheslav,
it would've ruined your career.

You haven't told me if you killed him.
Can you put that out?

Put it out now or you can leave,
okay?!

Is that better?

When you think about fucking me...

...and I know you do...

...how do you picture it, doctor?

Oh, I know you can't answer me,
so just think it.

Do you want it straight up?

You on top?

Me on top?

Do you want it from behind...

...on your knees,
my face in the pillow?

Do you want to beat me up...

...just a little?

Not too hard.

Oh, a little harder than that.

Do you want to come in my mouth?

What if I told you that I masturbate
thinking about you?

That I make myself come...

...thinking about you
making yourself come.

I guess we're out of time for today.

I'm terminating therapy.

Send me the bill.

Are you feeling all right?

Miss Tramell, it's Dr. Glass here.

Listen, I'm concerned about how our
session ended today.

I'd like to talk through
any misunderstandings...

...there might be between us.

As soon as you get this message,
please give me a...

Just call me when you can.

Evening, Dr. Glass.

Could I have a word?

Sure. Upstairs.

Is that German?

Can I get you anything?

No.

So here's a surprise.

Adam Towers had a girlfriend
besides Denise.

Guess who.

Catherine Tramell.

You don't look surprised.

She's a private patient of mine.

I see. Since when?

Not long.

So your ex and your private patient
were both screwing Adam Towers.

That's quite a coincidence.
Did they know each other?

I don't know. I don't think so.
Did you...?

Tramell's prints were all over Towers'
apartment, along with others.

But what's interesting is the last call
he made was to her mobile phone...

...90 minutes before he died.

Her story is she was out walking all
that time.

Two hours strolling around Clerkenwell
and nobody saw her, so...

Come on, Michael. Talk to me.

I can't tell you anything. Even if I
knew something, which I don't.

Franks was first. Towers second.
There's bound to be a third.

This goes beyond confidentiality.

You've got a legal obligation to protect
a potential victim.

You can't lock somebody up because
you think they might do something.

Why don't you tell me what you know
about this article...

...Towers was writing about you
and our old friend George Cheslav.

Who told you
he was writing an article?

His editor.

He'd been very busy.
He had a lot of information on you.

What, and you think I killed him...

...to stop him writing
some stupid article?

No. But just for the record, why don't
you tell me how you spent last night.

Between, say,
7 p. m. and 2 in the morning.

You know, broad strokes.

I had patients until 8 p. m.

Then went to a party
in Collingham Gardens.

I left there about 11 with a woman.

We came here and I was on my knees
fucking her when Denise called.

On your knees, eh?

Sounds like your evening
was better than mine.

Could I get her name?
So there are no loose ends.

Look, Michael, Adam Towers
was fucking your ex-wife...

...and about to do the same
to your career. I've got to ask.

Michelle Broadwin.

She's a psycho-pharmacologist at
Victoria Psychiatric Hospital.

Thank you.

I'll be in touch.

What does that mean?

I smell blood.

Yeah, not all of them, of course, but,
you know, some of them.

They're all so sanctimonious...

...so judgmental.

All my friends, they drink too much.
They snort too much coke.

Miss Tramell,
it's Dr. Glass here again.

I'm a little concerned
I haven't heard from you.

I was wondering whether you're okay.

Look, let me give you
my home number. It's 0207...

Sorry, it really got to me and I don't
know why it seems to be doing that.

Why it's getting worse.
I mean, I was really excited.

You have no new messages.

The thing about Gerst is this:

The selection committee
is just a formality.

This is the real interview.

Relax.

Be direct, candid.

But not too candid.

Very good time. They always get lost
on the way. Come in.

Meet my new Mughal painting.

Not another one.

An Indian goddess at peace. It has a
tranquility to it, don't you think?

I wonder what the males are doing,
loitering so close to her?

It's obvious. They're worshiping her.

As they should.

Perhaps that's why she has eight arms
to fend them off.

Why don't you girls go outside
while Dr. Glass and I have our chat.

Come. Come.

Come with me. You'll enjoy it.

So, Dr. Glass, I have a question:

Do you think I'm insane?

Pardon?

Nuts? Bonkers? Off my trolley?

No, not at all.

But I might be if I recommended you
for the Douglas Chair.

I'm sorry, I don't understand.

George Cheslav.

A major drug dealer, under your care,
brutally murders his girlfriend.

An inquiry is held...

...where Detective Roy Washburn...

...testifies that you acted
professionally at all times.

You're blameless.

That's right, I was.

However, after the trial...

...you experienced what we might term
an emotional meltdown:

Depression...

...occupational underachievement...

...marital problems...

...and questionable professional
conduct...

...much discussed at dinner parties
around our great city.

I'm sorry?

Now you want my support
for the Douglas Chair.

No more Cheslavs, Michael.

No.

No more Cheslavs.

Catherine!

Sorry. All right.
Sorry, I'm just looking for someone.

God, Michael, how dramatic.

I know.

I thought she was in danger,
but I know that's not the point.

She could be a murderer twice over...

...and you're acting like she's a
princess you have to rescue.

Don't patronize me, please.

It's driving me crazy.

You're in love with her, aren't you?

Not love. It's...

I don't know.

You have to terminate this therapy,
right away.

Well, it's already done.
She terminated it herself.

Good.

If she calls again, give her my number.

I'm a woman.

She'll relate to me differently.

What are you doing here?

Where she goes, I go.

Since when?

Since she started coming
to your office five days a week.

So, Adam Towers.
Seems his research has gone missing.

All his notebooks, audiotapes,
even his hard drive.

Everything on George Cheslav
and Michael Glass.

- You think Catherine has it?
- I know she does.

She ever tell you about them
when she's chatting on the couch?

You know I can't discuss that.

Come on. I've been very good to you
these past few years.

I'm practically a psychopath
delivery service.

I can't break privilege.

Pity. I have something
you might like to know about.

Someone says you'd been lying
at the Cheslav inquest.

Who?

You want me to break privilege?

Since you're a friend,
it was your ex-wife.

Denise?

You want to sort her out.

Who knows, she might tell you
where Towers' notes went.

Someone's here.
Do you want us to say?

I'll be all right. Don't worry.

We'll see you later.

How you doing?

Okay.

Do you want a drink?

No, I have to go.

I'm meeting someone
at the Atlantic Bar.

Denise, did you tell Towers that
I lied at the Cheslav inquiry?

Of course, there's always an agenda.

No. I said you knew he was going
to kill his girlfriend.

I didn't. That's a lie.

Yes, you did.

You kept saying how you knew
and should have gone to the police.

I didn't know. I sensed. And I told you
that as my wife in confidence.

I didn't think you'd go and repeat it
in bed to some moron reporter.

Do you want to ruin my life, is that it?
You want to ruin my practice?

Your life? Your practice?

Catherine was right,
everything's always about you.

What about me? Adam's dead
and I'm a murder suspect.

Washburn keeps going on about me
not cooperating, like I'm a liar.

I don't know where Adam's notes are.

I'm scared to go home. I'm scared
to go out. I'm going out of my mind.

Be careful about Catherine.

Don't tell me what to do!

Just calm down.

Don't tell me to fucking calm down!

Hey, come on.

That's my wife, okay?
This is a private conversation.

Get out of my way! Out of my way!

Denise. Oh, Denise!

Come on.

Come on, come on.

Come on, Denise. Look at me.

Call an ambulance!

Do it now!

Come on. Let's go.

Stay with me. Come on. Stay with me.

Come on. Stay with me.

You have a problem, Michael.

Witnesses say they saw you arguing.
She was crying.

You grabbed her.
She almost fell down.

Five minutes later,
somebody slits her throat.

Also, there are people here who think
you killed Towers.

Towers? Didn't you speak to Michelle?

Yes. But now I'm hearing about this
cigarette lighter with your prints on it.

I just picked that up.

And your ex is in a coma just as she's
to say something inconvenient for you.

I was trying to save her life.

Look, I spoke to Towers' assistant
at Urbane magazine.

He expected Denise to say that you
perjured yourself at Cheslav's inquiry.

She wasn't going to say that.

What was she going to say?

Sorry, guv.

You wait there.

So...

Your ex and Catherine Tramell
were girl buddies. Did you know that?

What do you mean "girl buddies"?

According to Catherine,
they met through Towers and hit it off.

Denise told Catherine that Towers had
been pressuring her...

...into saying that you'd perjured
yourself.

But Denise wasn't having it.
She was going to say you were clean.

You didn't know Cheslav was going to
kill his girlfriend, did you?

In fact, it came
as a complete surprise, didn't it?

- Of course she's lying.
- How do you know?

Everything that comes out of her is a
lie. Even the truth's a lie with her.

It's her way of getting you to think
what she wants you to think.

That's her art. The art of mind-fucking.

She might be a talented writer.

When it comes to mind-fucking,
she's the all-time genius.

She really got to you, didn't she?

What do you mean?
What did she tell you about me?

Well, what is there to tell?

Don't play games with me.
She can pull it off, you can't.

Where are you going?

Someplace else. Unless
you have evidence to charge me.

Do you?

I didn't think so.

He let you go, finally.

I was worried.

You lied to Washburn for me. Why?

I knew you hadn't hurt Denise.

How could you know that?

Because I know you.

And I know the cops were keeping you
just to play some kind of game.

What, like getting me
to talk about you?

Yeah, but you wouldn't do that,
because you're into confidentiality.

Why were you meeting with Denise?

Research for my novel.

Research.

About what?

About you.

And Cheslav, the masked psychotic.

The analyst in my book is obsessed
with that sort of thing.

Washburn thinks
that you slit Denise's throat.

Me? You're the one that hated her.

Maybe I'm acting out
your unconscious impulses.

Stop it!

Do you think it's possible that
you want me to be the killer?

You know, how some guys
are into blonds...

...and some guys are into killers.

Isn't that what you're into?

Isn't that what turns you on?

Turns me on?

Isn't that why you're over here?

Okay.

I trust you.

You trust me.

Is there somewhere we can talk?

Over there.

Can I guess where you got it?

Let's find out what it is first.

It would be highly improper of me to
accept any evidence in this fashion.

Fine.

It'll take me a few days
to get it analyzed.

You'd have made a good cop, Michael.

You like the smell of blood.

Dr. Glass.

Hold on.

I was just thinking about you.

I might have more
psychiatric evaluations for you.

That's nice, but I'm busy
at the moment.

Oh, that's a pity.
You were so good with Catherine.

She tells me you're very perceptive.

She's very perceptive herself.

I hope Detective Washburn isn't giving
you cause for...

...concern?

What do you mean?

Well, given his past record.

What past record?

I want to talk to you.

Oh, so now you want to talk.

Look, this "Dirtiest Cop in London,"
it doesn't mention him by name.

But this "Detective X,"
is that Roy Washburn?

Is it Washburn?

Excuse me?

Yeah, it's him.

Are you sure?

Adam may have been a sloppy writer,
but he had excellent sources.

What about perjury, intimidation,
falsifying evidence. Is that true?

A policeman fabricating evidence.

But you have proof?

How about Kevin Franks
and the Case of the Killer Orgasm?

When I did Catherine Tramell's
assessment, I read that report.

Those syringes found in the car
contained DTC.

Yeah, well, who found
the syringes in the car?

But why would Washburn do that?

Adam thought he did it to set up
Catherine Tramell.

Why didn't he write about it?

That's the whole point.

He was going to.

Then he got killed.

I owe you an apology.
About Roy Washburn. L...

I don't like apologies.

I also don't like people stealing things
from my apartment.

The insulin? In case you haven't had it
analyzed yet.

Insulin?

My friend's diabetic.

Let yourself out, doctor.

Hello, Michael.

What do you want?

I got the lab analysis back.

D-Tubocurarine. Funny that.

You're sure it's not insulin?

Insulin?

No.

Can I see the report?

You've got some trust issues there.
You might want to work on that.

This isn't an official
Forensic Services report.

No. Because an unpreserved or
contaminated chain of evidence...

...will be deemed inadmissible
in a future trial, Inspector Clouseau.

So do you want to tell me
where you found it?

She's not worth it.

People are dying
and I will have her for it.

If you stand in my way,
I'll have you as well.

I can fucking promise you that.

I've got something to show you.
Get in the car.

Get in!

Medical examiner's on his way.

Hello, guv.

Were you working that night?

No, I don't know.

Did you see or hear
anything suspicious yesterday?

Not yesterday. No.

- Nothing?
- No.

How long have you worked here?

Four months.

Four months?

Where were you before that?

Ted.

Hi, guv.

- Remember I talked to Vice earlier and
they said...

Fergie, give me a minute.

Let's go.

Who is he?

Richard Pepovic.
Known to his friends as Dickie Pep.

You know him?

No.

Look at this.

Now, we'll have to wait for the lab
results, of course...

...but what's the betting he's oozing
Tubocurarine?

Now do you want to tell me
who gave you the sample?

You don't know she did it.

No.

But then again, maybe I killed him.

Isn't that what she's gonna tell you?

He had something on me,
so I killed him.

Then I jerked him off
even though he was dead...

...to make it look like
there was come everywhere...

...to make it look like it was her.

Look, Towers was right about me,
I put them away whatever it takes.

So, fine, don't trust me.

You know Catherine better than me.

If you have five seconds
when you're not dizzy...

...with the smell of her pussy,
ask yourself: Do you trust her?

Do you?

She's George Cheslav, times three.
We both know it.

The question is:
How do we put her away?

If you tell the courts that she's made a
direct threat against someone...

But she hasn't.

If you say she did, and that got her put
on a psych ward...

...stopped her from killing again,
wouldn't that be worth it?

Some kind of redemption
for Cheslav at last?

Look, I'm prejudiced.

Don't take my word for it.

Talk to this guy.

Listen to him.

Lieutenant Walker. It's Michael.

Look, thanks for talking to me.

It's just that I did an evaluation
of Miss Tramell...

Darkness had fallen and even before
the buzzer sounded...

...Kelly knew it would be the doctor.

He'd come to accuse her
of more crimes.

They'd fight about that
and then have sex...

...and everything would be
all right again.

Except it wouldn't be...

...if he didn't trust her.

Hi, handsome.

My new novel.

I'm anxious to hear
what you think about it.

I've been speaking
to Lieutenant Phil Walker...

...the San Francisco
Police Department.

Paranoid Phil.
Now there's a blast from the past.

He said you murdered a Johnny Boz
and two detectives in San Francisco.

I was never even charged.

Grand jury said that Nick Curran's
girlfriend did it.

I'm going to take a Jacuzzi.
Care to join me?

All right, all right.
I killed Johnny Boz.

Why?

I didn't like him.

For the money.

To see if I could get away with it.

To show that death
really isn't very important.

Because I was bored.

And you know how I hate being bored.

What about Denise, huh?

Adam Towers?

Adam was insufferable.

And you are something special.

Adam was trying to ruin you just
out of spite, and I couldn't bear it.

This is wonderful.

Denise.

Denise... Denise was good in bed.

Denise would have spoiled
everything I'd accomplished...

...by killing Adam Towers.

God, you can't tell the truth
about anything, can you?

You don't believe me
when I say I did it.

You don't believe me
when I say I didn't do it.

What is the point
of talking to you, anyway?

Oh, come on.

Why don't you take your clothes off
and get in, huh?

This is worse than Cheslav, isn't it?

This time you knew
right from the start what I was.

And you let it happen again,
didn't you?

It's almost like you
killed them yourself.

Who do you think
I'm going to kill next?

Come on.

You can figure it out.

Kelly met the analyst during her little
stay at Holloway Prison.

His eyes were
a beautiful shade of blue.

Did Kelly trust the doctor?

Did she mean it
when she told him she wanted help?

Even she wasn't sure.

If things went well,
then she meant it.

If not, she didn't.

That way, she'd be protected.

She remembered the first time
she met Irena...

...at the party in Bloomsbury.

She felt a deep affinity
for the older woman.

As if the two of them leaning against
the wall, silently smoking...

The next time they saw each other...

...only brought
the two women even closer.

Even as Dr. Green watched them
through the window...

...looking for any sign of conspiracy.

Kelly found herself opening up,
trusting the older woman...

...revealing things about herself...

Yes, Kelly thought. She liked Irena.

She was trustworthy, intelligent,
beautiful, dignified.

It was a pity
Kelly was going to have to kill her.

She dressed carefully.

She liked to be well-dressed
when she killed.

Killing Irena and telling Dr. Green
she was planning to do it...

...that was the riskiest thing
she could do.

Come on, Milena.

Come on, Milena, answer the phone

It's Michael Glass here. Can you call
me as soon as you get this message?

As much as Kelly hated her shrink...

...she also loved him.

She took a last glance at herself
in the mirror.

Irena deserved a good death.
And Kelly would give it to her.

Hello, this is Roy Washburn,
please leave a message.

Roy. It's Michael Glass.
Come as soon as you can.

23 Highgate Street. Hampstead.

I think Catherine is going to kill
Milena Gardosh.

It was almost midnight by the time
Dr. Green got to Hampstead.

What is it?

Thank God.
Listen, we don't have much time.

You're in danger.
She's going to try and kill you.

What? Who's trying to kill me?

Catherine.

I thought I could help her
but I was wrong.

I'll try and get her sectioned.
It's the only thing that'll stop her.

I've already spoken to Catherine.

She's very upset. You terrified her.

I terrified her? She's a murderer.
She's already admitted it.

For chrissake,
you had sex with your patient.

You assaulted her.
She nearly drowned.

You've broken the law, not to mention
the ethical canon of our profession.

It wasn't like that.

Michael, listen to me, please.

You're not well.

You're the one who needs help.

I've spoken to Gerst...

...and he thinks that if you volunteer
for a 28-day observation...

...you might be able to avoid
criminal charges.

However, they will have to
revoke your license.

I'm sorry.

She's right.

It's for your own good, Michael.

She asked me
to take over her treatment.

She's my patient now.

Please, don't.

You've no idea what
you're getting into.

Tell her the truth.

Tell her the truth.

I'll make you tell her the truth.

God.

Come on.

She's right, you know.

You really do need help.

Bitch.

So, what's this about?

Protection.

Oh, yeah? From who?

Washburn.

Go ahead.

Kelly Lash kills Irena,
Dr. Green's colleague.

No, I read your book.

So you just rushed right over here
to save her?

It's just a story, doctor.
Or maybe I really am omnipotent.

Congratulations,
the control freak finally lets go.

This is what you wanted from the start,
wasn't it? To ruin me, to fuck me up!

Feels good, doesn't it?

No more "I should've stopped Cheslav
from killing his girlfriend."

No more whining over nothing.

- It wasn't over nothing.
- Yes, it was.

Cheslav did not kill his girlfriend.

Washburn did.

Washburn?

What do you think Adam Towers was
writing about when he was killed?

You're lying.
You're a lying fucking bitch.

Sure I am,
if it makes it easier for you.

Why? Why would he kill
the girlfriend?

To nail Cheslav.

That's right.

Your seven years of hell.

Your meltdown.

Your divorce.

Just so your good friend Roy
could nail a drug dealer.

Don't take it so hard.

Even Oedipus
didn't see his mother coming.

It's Roy Washburn.

Give me the gun. Give me the gun!

Fuck off!

Give me the gun! He knows I've got
Towers' notes. He wants me dead.

Open the door!

He's going to kill me
and say you did it.

No. No, this is all fucked up.

You don't know what you're doing.
Give me the gun. He's going to kill me.

You...!

Go ahead, then, baby.

Whatever she told you, she's lying.

Kill her!

It's the only chance you've got.

Let go of the gun!

Clear the weapon!

- Stay still!
- Get off me!

Stop struggling! Stop struggling!

Stay down! I'm telling you
to stay down. Okay?! Stay down!

Get the cuffs on him.

- Call an ambulance!
- Keep still!

Call an ambulance!

Stay down!

Calm down! Calm down!

Nighttime! Nighttime!

You'll be home soon.

Hello, Michael.

I brought you a present.

I know you read an earlier draft.
But you gave me a better ending.

So, thank you.

Would you like me to tell you the plot?

It's about an American.

A blond.

A novelist.

People around her just keep dying.

But the question is:

Who's killing them?

Is the beautiful blond novelist
a serial killer?

Or is it the crooked cop?

Her analyst isn't sure.

But he goes crazy trying to find out.

But that's just half the story.

There's a twist.

You see, the novelist
never really killed anybody.

And neither did the cop.

The real killer all along...

...was the shrink.

Yeah, from the moment he saw her...

...he knew she was the smoke screen
he was looking for.

His best opportunity to get even.

First...

...he'd deal with that scumbag
journalist.

You see, you don't just go around
stealing another man's wife.

It's humiliating.

Not that she was a complete innocent.

That weekend slut.

Jesus, how could she
let that sleazebag touch her?

It's hurtful.

And there's some hurts
you don't just get over.

Jealousy.

Jealousy can make us do crazy things.

But getting away with it...

...that was genius.

"Unfit to stand trial."

No prison for him,
just a happy ending...

...in a quiet, sunlit, peaceful
psychiatric institute.

Of course, that could all be a fiction.

He might really be insane.

Come back soon, baby.

I miss you.