Original subtitles

BASSY CLUB MUSIC.

READING TO HIMSELF.

Biotech. Their succession of policy initiatives,

their design to build closer links between education

and industry and promote biomedical research...

They're ready for you, sir.

Great. Shall we?

LIFT PINGS.

APPLAUSE.

Ladies and gentlemen. Nice to see you all, folks.

You guys always seem to come out when there's free champagne.

All right, so, this speech will be very...

GUNSHOT.

BIKE ENGINE REVS, TYRES SQUEAL.

Are you OK? Yeah.

Oh, my God.

BUSY CHATTER.

Paul, what are you doing here?

I thought you weren't due back till tomorrow?

No time like the present. I picked it up on the scanner.

A shooting at the Cambridge Science Park?

Not exactly The Bronx, is it? So what have we got?

Drive-by, single shot, single shooter.

And do we know the target? This is James Samson's company.

Have I heard of him?

If not, you soon will have.

You look, er... better.

I feel it, although I don't want to get ahead of myself.

One day at a time.

Something like that. Where's Winters?

Running late.

By the way, she's his wife, not his daughter.

Thanks for the heads-up. Welcome.

Mr Samson? Mrs Samson. This is Detective Inspector Rabbit.

Are we interrupting your day off, Detective Inspector Rabbit?

Not exactly.

Look, I don't mean to be rude, but is this gonna take long?

I have a press conference on hold. James, you're not serious?

Respectfully, sir, I think you may need to reconsider your priorities.

DISTANT SIRENS.

We'll see. In the meantime, perhaps I can expedite your inquiries?

And how would you do that?

Well, I can say with certainty, no, I have no idea who did it.

And I can also say that whoever it is that you're looking for

is an absolutely terribly shot.

My husband's joking. It's not funny.

This whole farrago has actually given my wife a bit of a fright.

That may well have been the perpetrator's intention.

How do you mean?

Whoever did this may be more intent on scaring than harming you.

Do you think it might have anything to do with your announcement?

Because it would seem a funny way to thank you for your largesse.

We are pioneers in embryonic stem cell research,

there's no end of whack jobs

that just think I'm the spawn of the devil.

KNOCK AT DOOR I'm going.

Ah, we are just finishing up here, reschedule for 12.

You're unbelievable.

The press conference has been cancelled, everyone's going home.

No! Bugger it!

My God, are you OK?

This is my younger boy, Freddie,

and the charmer over there in the doorway is Henry, my older son.

I told you the interview was a bad idea, Dad.

Yeah, we all did. What interview is that?

Weekend Business Magazine.

If your budget won't stretch to a copy,

I'll have my office, you know,

ping one over. That won't be necessary.

I think you'll find it raises loads more questions,

but in the meantime, unless there's anything else?

DISTANT SIREN.

Thank you, Mr Samson, Mrs Samson.

LIFT PINGS, NEARBY SIREN WAILS.

Someone's in a hurry. Not exactly happy families, was it?

He's back! You look... better.

Did you two work on that together? Here's a bullet casing.

Better get that back to the lab.

Hey, I missed you first thing.

I overslept. Unlike you, Dan.

How was last night?

Not now, Lisa, it's not a good idea to mix work with pleasure.

MUSIC: 'Piccolissima Serenata' by Jula De Palma

♪ Mi faro prestare Un soldino di sole

♪ Perche regalare lo voglio a te

♪ Lo potrai posare Sui biondi capelli

♪ Quella nube d'oro accarezzero

♪ Questa piccolissima serenata

♪ Con un fil di voce si puo cantar

♪ Ogni innamorato all'innamorata

♪ La sussurrera, la sussurrera

♪ Mi faro prestare Un soldino di mare

♪ Perche regalare Lo voglio a te

♪ Lo potrai posare... ♪ MUSIC ECHOES

♪ Nel tuo sguardo azzurro mi tuffero Questa piccolissima serenata. ♪

SINISTER MUSIC BLENDS IN, SONG FADES.

BLOWER WHEEZES.

I've cancelled your 9am, professor. Ah.

I know you don't like birthday cakes,

so I bought you a doughnut instead.

POP Whoa!

DONCKERS: We've recovered the motorbike.

False plates

and the vehicle identification number's been filed off.

Nothing reported stolen in the area that matches its make or model.

Anybody see our shooter dump it? No, it's a wasteland.

No cameras or buildings overlooking. And no sign of the weapon.

So what else?

Well, we're convinced James Samson was the target.

Bit of a Branson figure, endurance racing, skydiving,

that kind of thing.

Worth a billion quid, give or take. I'll take if he's giving.

He's no stranger to controversy.

I can see that.

Maybe it was a pro-life activist firing a shot across his bows?

What does the professor think?

Tempest?

Have you put a whole load more on the payroll in my absence?

CHUCKLING.

SOULFUL STRING MUSIC.

BLOWER WHEEZES.

Please.

I've got something for you.

James Samson? Yes, I thought you might know him.

As a matter of fact, I do.

My father was friends with his business partner.

Oh, didn't know he had one.

Aaron Bell.

More of a drinking companion, actually.

Of James Samson? Of my father.

Did they have a falling out, Samson and this Bell character?

You could say that.

Enough for Mr Bell to wanna shoot him?

I doubt it. Aaron Bell has been dead for more than a decade.

Well, I don't suppose you know

anything about stem cell research, do you?

Not a great deal, though neither does James Samson by all accounts.

It was Bell's brilliance that made his millions.

We're trying to work out who would want to shoot him.

SAMSON, ON VIDEO: 'That's why, today, I'm announcing

'that I'm signing the Giving Pledge,

'which commits me to giving away the vast majority of my fortune

'to deserving causes between now and the time of my death.'

How do you know about this?

James Samson is something of a bete noire in university circles.

Why's that?

Academics are somewhat prone to professional jealousy, it seems,

especially former colleagues.

Looks like they've got plenty to be jealous about.

So glad you're here.

Mrs Samson, this is Professor Tempest and DS Winters.

Hello. I really need you to talk some sense into James.

He seems to be treating the whole thing like a bit of a joke.

I know. I begged him to take it seriously, but he just won't listen.

I even told him to hire a bodyguard, but...

GUNSHOT.

Pull.

GUNSHOT.

Mr Samson. Ah.

Our friends from the police. You arrested anyone yet?

We're working on it. Well, I should bloody well hope so.

DS Winters and Professor Tempest,

he works with us in an advisory capacity.

This is my son Freddie. Adopted son.

No need for the qualifier.

Well, your recent profile was very specific about it.

Son will suffice.

Freddie's a bit of a whizz with the numbers,

he's my right hand man, in fact. Ironic, then, that his right hand

can no longer be tested for gunpowder residue.

What?

I'm guessing this shooting party was his idea.

It's OK, Dad.

Oh, help yourselves to refreshments.

You weren't on site at the shooting yesterday, were you, Mr Samson?

No. I was driving in from a breakfast meeting.

Is that business or pleasure? Pleasure, actually.

Someone who can vouch for you?

Unfortunately not, I got stood up.

Oh, I know how you feel, mate.

It's just someone I met on a dating app.

The plan was to take her to the press conference

if she was up for it, thought it might impress her

to hear the old man give away 50 million quid.

But she didn't turn up.

And where was this breakfast meeting supposed to take place?

The Bird In Hand, just in the centre of town.

They do a mean fry-up on the weekdays.

Oh. Bugger it. We'll look into it.

Really? Is that necessary?

Obviously you don't seem to think so.

I think you're wasting our time with impertinent questions.

I'm sorry you think that, sir.

There's clearly some right-wing crackpot you should be focused on,

not my son. And why would you advise that, sir?

Because clearly somebody is out to try and scare me,

and they're wasting their time.

I don't scare easily. Freddie.

Sorry.

Pull. GUNSHOT.

Detective?

Um, my husband, he's not telling you everything.

Really? What do you mean?

Well, he received an envelope with a bullet in it.

When was this?

Just a couple of days before the shooting.

Do you still have it?

No, I told him to go the police, but he, er... he threw it away.

GUNSHOT.

Thanks for your candour, Mrs Samson, it's very helpful.

Very helpful indeed.

Nothing to worry about.

SIRENS WAIL.

We're getting nowhere with this pro-life line of enquiry.

There's just no history of that kind of activism here, maybe we could...

Start with the family.

The professor thinks this may suggest a motive.

SAMSON, ON VIDEO: 'That's why, today,

'I'm announcing that I am signing the Giving Pledge,

'which commits me to giving away the vast majority of my fortune

'to deserving causes between now and the time of my death.'

Are his wife and sons supportive? We'll soon find out.

His wife is genuinely worried.

Unlike her husband, who's completely blase.

Perhaps he doesn't believe his life is really at risk.

DCI BRAND: Let's focus on the sons for now.

I'll check out Freddie's alibi.

You two should speak to the eldest son,

that relationship seems strained.

Jasper, are you all right?

I believe so.

It's just, er... it's your birthday.

It's a difficult day for you.

If you want to talk, you... you know where I am.

HORSES WHINNY.

Mr Samson. DS Donckers.

I know who you are, any progress? Not exactly,

we'd like to establish where you were prior to the shooting.

I was here from six in the morning,

left at nine twenty to go to the press conference.

Sam was with me until I left.

And when the shooting occurred?

I was already inside the building,

there are plenty of my father's lackeys who can vouch for me.

What were you doing there? I was a three-line whip.

But you're not employed by your father, you have your own business.

He wants to play happy families. And you're not inclined to?

He spent years ignoring his first family in favour of work,

now he's got a new wife and son

and suddenly he wants us all to hang out.

You mean, your mother and you? Just me.

My mother passed a few years back.

That must have been painful for you, to see your father marry again.

I had a lucky escape. What do you mean?

You won't read this in a magazine, but it's no secret.

She was my girlfriend when they met. Natasha?

She realised he was a bigger prize and he got played.

She seems to genuinely love him. Yeah, right.

Her soulmate just happens to be a billionaire old enough

to be her father?

So what do you think she feels about his plan to give it all away?

I can only imagine. What about you?

I couldn't care less what my father does with his money.

Some people might find that hard to believe.

I'm not the gold digger in this family,

it's my step-mother you should be talking to, or Alfred Bell.

Your brother?

He's no brother of mine.

Dan.

'Freddie Samson paid for breakfast with his credit card at nine fifty,

'but it's no distance to the science park.

'Doesn't rule him out.'

Well, we're heading back, where are you?

Grabbing lunch at that pub

with a friend.

Who's the friend? DIAL TONE.

He hung up.

Would you mind dropping me off? I, too, have a lunch date.

Professor. Dark horse.

It's with my mother. HORSE WHINNIES.

Samson doesn't act like a man with a death threat hanging over him.

Which is what the professor's been suggesting all along.

You should take a break more often.

Maybe it's an insurance scam. Nah, he doesn't need the money.

What about the angle on Freddie, have you spoken to him yet?

Dan checked out his alibi, said it doesn't rule him out.

Well, you'd better bring him in then, chop-chop.

There you go.

I'm joining Adelaide Tempest.

You're late.

I was unavoidably detained.

Kafka is most discombobulated. KAFKA WHIMPERS.

What kept you? My police work.

How is it? Suitably diverting.

And Christina?

Suitably diverting, thank you.

I hope you've learned your lesson there, Jasper.

MUSIC: 'Io Che Non Vivo Senza Te' by Pino Donaggio

♪ Siamo qui noi soli

♪ Come ogni sera. ♪

Good afternoon.

I'll have the usual, please, Gustave.

And for monsieur?

He'll have the halibut, lightly grilled, with a small green salad.

Oh, and a bottle of your lovely Krug champagne. The 2003, please.

And, er... two glasses?

Why, it's the least they can do, dear heart.

I spend an absolute fortune in here.

So, Samson Bell Growth Tech started life as Bell Samson Associates,

set up by your adoptive father, James Samson.

'And your biological father Aaron Bell?'

'That's right.'

'I'm told Aaron was the scientific brains behind it all.'

Maybe. But he sold out to James?

Yes, in 2003.

For £8 million. It was a lot of money at the time.

It was. Not when you consider it was sold

for 1.1 billion just over a decade later.

Your biological father committed suicide

not long after that deal was completed.

Why would you go work for someone who might be responsible

for your father killing himself?

Dad wasn't to blame for Aaron's death.

You don't think the financial betrayal destroyed him?

Alcohol destroyed my biological father.

Dad tolerated it as long as he could,

when he couldn't tolerate it any longer, he paid way over the odds

for Aaron's share of the business, for what it was worth at the time.

A toast to us.

Oh, darling, I know we never mention the B-word, or celebrate,

God forbid, but can't we just raise a glass to us?

For once?

It's a difficult day for me, too.

INDISTINCT YELLING.

SMACK.

INDISTINCT RAGING.

My biological father was violent when he'd had a drink.

Dad... protected me from him.

He may have hung himself, technically,

but the truth is he drank himself to death.

And James took you under his wing? He did. I owe him everything.

You even let him adopt you.

He was more of a father to me than Aaron Bell ever was.

I wanted to acknowledge my debt to him.

And become heir to his fortune. I didn't ask for that.

So how do you feel about him giving it all away?

It's his money, he's already given me more than I can ever repay.

And how does Henry feel about it?

And about gaining a brother? Step-mother too.

You'll have to ask him about that.

We already have.

DOOR OPENS.

You're late.

I might have to start going on a few more blind dates

if they all turn out like this. Hey!

PHONE BUZZES.

Sorry.

Ignore it.

Lisa?

Say again.

OK. Yeah, on my way.

HENRY: This is all your fault.

Mr Samson, I understand that...

You understand nothing! I'm lodging a complaint.

Oh, Henry, please. Oh, spare us the fake hysterics.

FRAUGHT MUSIC, CAMERA SHUTTER CLICKS.

You look like you've won the lottery.

You look post-coital.

Mrs Samson had a night class. When she got back, she found this.

What about Mr Samson?

No sign. Penny to the pound he's dead meat.

Or well on the way.

Have you informed Freddie?

I tried calling him, but he's not picking up.

Maybe he saw something. Saw something?

Yeah, he arrived as I was leaving.

Well, why didn't you say so?

I don't know, he comes around most evenings.

You'd better go see if you can find him.

DOOR BELL RINGS, KNOCKING.

Sorry to disturb you earlier. No worries.

Did I wake you? No, I was just chilling.

On your own? Just a minute!

A gentleman never tells.

Since when have you been a gentleman?

I still haven't forgiven you, but if it carries on like this

I might just have to.

Hey. Is everything OK?

I was in and out in half an hour. What time was that?

Half past nine. He was fine when I left.

Unfortunately, Mr Samson, we only have your word for that.

But I have a text message from him.

After you left? Absolutely.

I'd forgotten a book I'd asked to borrow,

he said he'd bring it to me in the morning. I'll show you.

Bugger it. That's the third one this month.

Here, can still see the message.

Do you think... he's dead?

We don't know that at this stage.

Look, is there anyone we can call to come and be with you?

CHURCH BELLS RING.

There are security cameras at the house,

they show Freddie Samson leaving at 9:38pm.

James sent him a text at 9:42pm,

it pinged off a tower close to the house.

We've done preliminary forensics on Freddie's car, no traces of blood.

What about Henry?

Worked late, a colleague was with him the whole time

until the call came through from Natasha.

What about her?

She has a whole classroom full of belly dancers who'll vouch for her.

Maybe it's time we revisited our theory about the activists.

Let's see what Professor Tempest has to say first, yeah?

MUSIC: 'Oh! Mio Babbino Caro'

♪ O mio babbino caro

♪ Mi piace, e bello bello

♪ Vo' andare in Porta Rossa

♪ A comperar I'anello!

♪ Si, si, ci voglio andare!

♪ E se I'amassi indarno

♪ Andrei...

♪ Sul Ponte Vecchio

♪ Ma per buttarmi in Arno!

♪ Mi struggo e mi tormento!

♪ O Dio, vorrei morir!

♪ Babbo, pieta, pieta!

♪ Babbo, pieta, pieta! ♪

I need to see the blood tests. We've already checked them.

It's definitely his blood. I need to check for sedimentation.

OK. Dan? I'll chase them up.

We need to question his wife about the Giving Pledge.

You don't believe in true love? Sure I do.

And I still put out a stocking for Santa.

I don't know what more to tell you.

Did your husband discuss his pledge with you

before he announced he would be giving away his fortune?

Yeah, of course he did. And you were OK with it?

Why wouldn't I be?

Well, I imagine you stood to be substantially disinherited.

So you think I married him for his money?

You know, James changed his will when we got married

because I asked him to.

I insisted on a prenuptial agreement that would leave me nothing,

so that he'd know that I love him, not all this.

So who will it all go to?

I don't know, it was always his plan to

leave the business to the boys, but

Henry's stubborn, and he's so angry.

Sergeant Donckers brought it for you yesterday.

I told her you weren't really into celebrating birthdays.

Are you OK?

Yeah. I'm fine.

I never did stop believing in Santa, you know.

I just did not want to ruin your life.

You deserved someone normal, someone who'd make you happy.

I know.

I know you better than you know yourself.

I'm afraid I doubt that very much.

I always understood, you know.

And I have forgiven you.

You just need to forgive yourself.

The results you asked for, professor.

Hmm.

Hmm. What?

The whole thing was staged.

It was too operatic, like a Gothic horror.

Reality is so much more banal.

It looked pretty real to me.

And his wanton disregard for death threats, no-one's that blase.

I don't scare easily.

'He staged his own death?'

Or his disappearance. Precisely so.

How'd you work that one out?

The blood traces show that he stumbled as he left the room,

put out a hand to steady himself, but it's clearly a right hand.

James Samson was left handed.

Pull! GUNSHOT.

And the wall would have been on his left,

so he would automatically have used his left hand to support himself.

Wow.

The hand print is merely a flashing red light.

You're a genius. Proof is the sedimentation.

When blood leaves the body, platelets start to settle.

The blood found at the scene belongs to James Samson,

but it was collected some time before the incident.

There was an awful lot of blood. No doubt collected in stages,

the last of it some time ago, judging by these results.

James Samson is playing dead.

It's an Oscar-winning performance, then.

We've just found his body.

POLICE RADIO CHATTER.

PHONE RINGS Sorry.

All right, then? 'We just found his body.'

Are you sure it's him? As sure as I can be,

he's not exactly looking his best.

Oh, my God.

He was shot with a nine millimetre fired from close range.

Same calibre as the bullet fired from the motorbike.

And there are extensive burns,

we're waiting on a postmortem to establish cause of death.

God, what a mess.

Seems like overkill. Operatic, even.

So where does this leave us?

Natasha has an alibi

and no obvious motive, seeing as she stands to inherit nothing.

What about the sons? Freddie was the last to see him.

James was alive when he left.

I don't believe that either of them are happy with his Giving Pledge.

Maybe they cooked it up together. PHONE RINGS.

Martin.

Are you joking?

OK. Yeah, I'm gonna have to call you back.

He died of a heart attack.

He was already dead when he was shot and burnt.

Are they sure? Biomarkers were sky high,

Martin says he was a cardiac arrest waiting to happen.

Draining himself of blood can't have helped his underlying condition.

Seems like it was staged after all.

Bring both the sons in.

Tempest, can you sit in?

'Which of his sons did your father love the most?'

I've asked myself the same thing.

He loved us both equally.

Henry may pretend otherwise, but deep down he knows it's true.

And which of you loved him more?

It's not a competition.

This ain't for you, maybe.

Henry clearly thinks you'd win on both counts.

Our father and I had our issues.

Including your step-mother, Natasha.

I've made no secret of it.

Were you aware she insisted on a pre-nuptial agreement?

In the event of your father's death, or their divorce,

she receives nothing.

Her love for your father is entirely genuine.

I...

I had absolutely no idea.

Natasha told us your father

was desperate to bring you into the business,

but you persisted in rejecting him.

Our relationship was complicated.

Working with him or Freddie wouldn't have improved matters.

You did not consider it your filial duty?

That's a bit of a quaint notion.

Perhaps, but I've been thinking about it a lot lately.

What is a son's duty to his father? To respect him?

Even if he doesn't deserve our respect?

Tests show the blood found in your father's study had been

collected over a number of weeks.

The evidence indicates he staged the scene

to make it appear as if he'd been attacked.

We know he must have had help.

One of you was a dutiful son who honoured his wishes.

Which of you loved him enough to do that?

I tried to stop him.

He'd been drawing blood for weeks.

It wasn't difficult for someone with his background.

I can imagine.

Told him it was a terrible idea.

So why was he so hell-bent on it?

He was convinced it would bring Henry back into the fold.

You know how it is.

We take love for granted until something terrible happens.

Difficult circumstances bring people together.

The plan was he'd go into hiding

probably for no more than a week, then he'd come back,

he'd pretend he'd escaped his abductors.

Everyone would be so relieved.

You'd all live happily ever after.

What happened?

I smuggled him out in the boot of my car.

I had to stop at the gate, we arranged that he would text me

once he felt the car speeding up again.

So how did he end up dead, Freddie?

I messed up. I messed it all up.

We agreed I'd pull over and get him out once I was in the woods.

Dad?

SOBBING.

Oh, shit!

I didn't know what to do, I panicked.

Sorry, Dad.

'I couldn't go to the police, you see.'

I mean, who'd believe me? A dead man couldn't vouch for me.

Ah!

I sort of just acted out what I thought might have happened

if Dad really had been abducted.

I'm sorry, Dad.

GUNSHOT

'I tried to make it look as if they killed him.'

But his heart had already stopped.

There wasn't much blood.

I thought it would be pretty obvious to forensics.

So I tried to get rid of the evidence.

It was too wet. I couldn't keep the fire going.

So I just left him there.

I messed up.

I messed him up so badly.

SOBBING.

So the drive-by shooting, that was the father's idea as well?

Sounds like it. The gun was his. But the bike was Freddie's.

It's been sitting in his garage since he was 16,

he paid for it in cash.

Was probably stolen in the first place.

Poor bastard.

Imagine doing that to your own dad.

Are you OK?

I have to go home.

DISTORTED YELLING.

Pull the trigger!

SOUND DULLS.

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