SCOTS ACCENT: Charlotte!
SCOTS ACCENT: 'It's me. You've got to come.
'Now!
'Help me, Red. Please!
'Help me!
'Help me!'
Sir.
Oh!
Officer.
You are? - DS Kate Beauchamp, sir. I joined today. We met... - Welcome.
Who's the woman? - Alison Reeves, the victim's fiancee. She found him. She's pretty cut up.
I think you'd better rephrase that. Her boyfriend's missing his tongue.
Looks like revenge. A gangland killing. He was a chef.
A spoon in the mouth? So why cut out his tongue? Maybe someone didn't like his food.
Shit! Oh!
HORN BLARES
Lunatic!
LOUD BANTER
Jez! You should be nicked for wearing gear that loud in a built-up area.
You'd have to catch me first. Oo-oo-ooh!
When I first saw him, I thought he'd killed himself.
Why would he want to kill himself?
He wouldn't. But that's what you first thought. You don't expect to see him hanging there...
How come you went round to see him this morning?
I took him breakfast.
Croissant...coffee.
Philip was a chef. His fridge was full of food.
I just wanted to give him a treat. Why?
We had a row last night.
What about? Wedding arrangements. You know what it's like.
Well, no-one's ever asked me. What exactly did you argue about?
I don't know. Something to do with... He'd invited more people than me. What does it matter?
Did you let yourself in?
Yes. Do you have a key?
Anybody else have a key? Cleaner? Philip's mum?
No.
So, you'd had a row. You're very angry. You'd stormed out... No, I don't...I mean...
I just wanted some peace. But you were obviously pretty pissed off. What did you do then?
I went home. Anyone there?
No.
No, I live on my own.
I'm sorry...
It's OK. Take your time.
What do you feel about her?
Feel? Yeah, think.
There's no forced entry. She has a key. She and lover boy had had a tiff. She has no alibi.
OK. Well, we'll not cross her off the list just yet.
Let me introduce you to... the lunatic. ..Jez!
This is your new oppo. DS Clifton, Jez, DS Beauchamp, Kate.
MOBILE PHONE RINGS Yes?
Where do you come from? Peckham.
Where?
Chief Inspector Metcalfe. Thank you.
What happened?
A parishioner phoned when he didn't show for Mass. First time in 40 years. Who didn't show?
Didn't they tell you? It's the bishop, sir.
Bishop?
My guvnor isn't here yet.
Well, I'll be inside.
What the hell are they doing here? You know Metcalfe. I couldn't stop him.
You've cleaned your slate, so now you're muscling in on mine, eh?
Congratulations on the promotion, by the way.
We seem to be working on connected cases. How many dead bishops can you have in one day?
A man was found hanged this morning in suspicious circumstances. His tongue was missing,
like your victim.
Two in 24 hours. Our bloke doesn't waste much time.
You are the...senior officer.
Anything we can do for you?
I want the crime scene preserved. Nothing bagged. Everything left exactly as it was.
Duncan...we've already got a press embargo in place. We've issued the names, that's all.
The bishop would make the front page.
The tabloids would have a field day with missing tongues. The dumbing down of crime.
We're going to merge your teams. You'll be based here. Red will lead the inquiry. You'll deputise.
Is that a problem? What does it matter who gives the orders?
James Perch, Bishop of Wandsworth. Philip Blake, Fulham chef. Perch beaten to death, Blake hanged.
Tongues cut out, silver spoons wedged in their mouths, stripped to their underpants. It's one killer.
The same killer or a solo killer? Both. Why? No bunching. Bunching?
When there's more than one assailant, they tend to rain blows onto just one small area.
- Imagine lumberjacks felling a tree. - It's called bunching. He's bruised everywhere.
We assume our killer works alone. No similar cases, then two in one night.
Leaves a silver spoon and makes off with their tongues. What a wacko!
Both tongues were cut out with a very sharp knife, maybe a scalpel.
Our man knows what he's doing. The tongue is pulled out and cut across the back.
He severed a number of major arteries, causing muscle to block off the airway.
Blood welled out of the mouth and was swallowed, resulting in choking on the blood and the base of the tongue.
Which brings us to the most gruesome feature...
The victims were alive when their tongues were removed.
He's good with a knife. Possibly a scalpel. Did Blake and Perch share the same butcher? A doctor?
Any semen on the underpants? There's nothing on the bodies themselves so far - no semen, saliva, hairs.
Not a sex crime. Maybe he's got the tongues up his arse. Sharp tongues, forked tongues, speaking in tongues.
Maybe they squealed. The Rt Rev Bishop a grass? No.
He restrains them, cuts the tongues out, then kills them. He's a sadist.
He takes risks. There's more blood if they're still alive. He must be covered in it. How did he get away?
Perhaps house-to-house will turn up someone who was too scared to phone the police. He's strong. Or she.
Check if Blake's fiancee has any connection with the Bishop.
Spoons... Born with a silver spoon in their mouths. Envy? Class war. It wasn't greed. Nothing was stolen.
Perch's door was forced. Blake knew his killer, let him in, or he had a key. What about finances?
Get on to it!
What do you see?
Religious man. Low Church. Spartan. And it's neat, tidy.
Exactly.
He was a fastidious man.
He was wearing a nightshirt. Why wear underpants?
I've persuaded the press they'll get nothing more... Ssh!
He was made to change into underpants. It's sexual. He strips them. Maybe not.
The killer made him change. That's different. Either way, the genitals are hidden. What do you think? Me?
Yes. Um...the killer gets into the bedroom, he makes the Bishop change out of his nightshirt,
then he takes him downstairs and beats him to death. Why not kill him here? Um...part of the ritual?
I don't know.
I change here.
I take it off. I don't drop it. I throw it at him.
It covers his head, blinds him, I make to escape.
He lashes out at me with his club, baseball bat, whatever.
Misses.
Hits here. Rips the shirt off his head, throws it down there.
Chases me downstairs. He's younger, quicker. He catches me at the door.
Drags me into the living room, batters me to death. He... He nearly made it.
Poor sod.
All we need now is for you to tell us who did it and we can go home.
The sodding spoons are Italian. Brissoli, solid silver, apparently.
Ten thousand imported in the last five years...
in batches of twelve, in dinner sets. We're checking retailers, but we won't trace them all.
If he paid in cash, we're shafted. Both James Perch and Philip Blake had more than a million in the bank.
The Bishop's was a family legacy, Philip's - largely self-made.
Bishop leaves everything to the Church, Philip to his family. Pull in their accounts.
Were they being blackmailed?
No friends, business contacts, doctors, butchers, candlestick makers, no-one in common.
We're starting on mailing lists and associations.
House-to-house. Freeman?
Nothing. Philip's neighbour's deaf as a doorpost... Sorry, guvnor, no offence. And the other's on holiday.
Wandsworth. Nothing.
Big house, set back. No-one heard a thing. No-one saw a thing.
Nothing suspicious.
No-one arriving, no-one leaving.
These people could be referees, they see so little.
It's not their job to see things.
What have we missed? What are we missing? The connection.
We've missed the connection because the killer made it, in his head.
Something links Philip Blake and James Perch. We don't know what.
Two in one day. It's revenge, one-off.
I hope so.
Well, if you're really concerned about missing things, you'd better start closer to home.
Oh, no!
Hi, Sam. How you doing?
Good. Hi, Sam.
Are you working for Dad again?
Yeah.
Oh. Where's your mum?
She got caught up at work. Let's go. He had a cold last week.
No skinny dipping in the Thames, then. See you later, Sam. Not too late Sunday, OK?
Chief Inspector? This is Roger Parkin from the Herald. I've arranged a room for your interview.
Can we keep this brief?
The violent death of a bishop. The pressure on you must be intense.
The pressure to find the killer of any innocent victim is intense. Are you any closer to finding him?
It would not be helpful for me to comment at the moment. The answer's "No". The answer is "No comment".
Is there any connection between the death of the Bishop and the murder you were called to in Fulham?
If there was, I wouldn't discuss it with you.
Did you always want to be a policeman?
I wanted to be an astronaut when I was a kid. What made you join the force?
How else do you get to go around in a car with a blue light? Commit a crime. I like to sleep at night.
- Did you become a policeman because of what happened with your brother? - You know the rules, Roger.
Of course I do, but it must be quite an embarrassment, especially now he's out.
I'm sorry. Didn't anyone tell you?
Eric was released two weeks ago.
He's in a hostel in Southend.
'..Help me. It's me.
'You've got to come...NOW. Help me, Red.
'Please! Help me!'
'Help me!'
I'm afraid he doesn't want to see you.
Stephen Hedges.
We spoke on the t-telephone.
How is he?
Oh, he's settling in.
I asked to see his psychiatric reports. Whatever you're asking, I'm afraid I can't help you.
You could persuade him to see me. This is a big enough adjustment for him as it is.
Eric is starting again. It's a long journey back to normal life, you know.
He doesn't have to do it alone.
He is not ready or willing to face you.
Not yet.
And I do not see it as part of my job to make him ch-change his mind.
Read my mind.
So, what am I thinking?
Dinner, my place?
I'd love to...but I can't.
Sorry. I didn't mean... If I'm treading on someone's toes... No, you're not.
Sorry. There was a hell of a queue.
Mega burger with the works. 50 pence you can't get that in your mouth.
Easy!
Here.
How much did you lose, then?
50p on your rotten burger!
Don't, Dad. I can tell. I can ALWAYS tell.
Hi, darling. Did you have a nice weekend?
Yeah. Brilliant. Good. I want a word with your dad.
I want to stay out here. There's a surprise for you. He can stay out if he wants to.
Back to your old habits.
Perhaps it would be a good idea if you went in. He didn't go to the bookies once!
Did you, Dad? Sam. Give us a hug.
Next week, the London Eye. He's already been to the London Eye.
You spoil EVERYTHING!
Thanks.
Let's keep this civil. Piss off! It's all right. I'll handle it.
That's the second time this year your cheque's bounced. We've got a big case on. Less time for the bookies.
You and him aren't exactly hard up. Andy's not Sam's father! No, but he tries to bribe my son away from me.
And what's the surprise this time? PlayStation 2? Designer jeans? Grow up, Duncan. YOU'RE the spoilt kid!
Sorry, mate. Foot slipped.
Get up, you slob. It's almost lunchtime.
Four-hour delay at Malaga!
James?
You want to open a window in here. The place stinks.
Mind you, perhaps it's me. I'm gonna grab a shower.
I reckon we've got a blocked drain.
Or you've had a dose of Montezuma's revenge.
Argh!
Had James been in the Army long? Since he left school.
All he ever wanted to do? Loved all that stuff, guns. You know.
Got on well with his men? Great. They loved him.
So, no enemies that you know of?
There was no forced entry.
He let his killer in.
He knew him, Nick.
Love life?
What do you mean? Did he have a love life? Someone special?
Girls really liked him, but he didn't think it was fair, getting serious, when he could be called abroad.
He must have had some social life - pubs, clubs? He hated clubs.
He was just an ordinary fella, you know. He was a loner, then?
No! He had lots of mates.
Do you know where he kept his address book? No.
That's what you're supposed to do with younger brothers, protect them.
If you really want to help your brother, tell me whatever it is I know you're not saying.
OK.
I'll try.
Was James...a spy?
No.
Was he gay?
Don't be crazy. No, he bloody wasn't. An Army officer. His life would've been unbearable if they found out.
You've got it wrong. Somebody detached James's head from his body.
Are you telling me that's less frightening than facing the fact that your brother was gay?
I wasn't ashamed of him.
I didn't think you were.
Kid brothers, nothing but trouble, eh?
OK, look, we've one closet gay,
one bishop of who-knows-what sexuality, one apparently straight guy, with a fiancee. We have to ask.
Tell me about Philip's friends. The people he mixed with. How do you mean?
I'm just trying to get a general picture of his social life, the sort of people he encountered.
What do you mean "sort of"? He had normal friends.
Normal?
Ordinary. Couples.
You and Philip argued the night before he was killed.
What? You never really told us what that was about.
I can't remember.
Why?
Because it's too painful?
Or is there something else you decided to forget?
My fiance died. We were going to have babies, one boy, one girl. Pension plans.
Threesomes? Let the boyfriend stop over? Or just turn the telly up when you heard Philip slip out?
What?
He loves you. You love him.
You're best mates.
Like cooking together. Shopping. Seeing musicals.
Only problem, you haven't got a dick.
It wasn't like that.
Like what?
I was all he wanted. He told me so and he meant it.
But?
Then he went and invited him to the wedding, to my...our wedding. Who?
An ex-friend.
What was his name? Kevan Latimer. That's Kevan with an A. He didn't even have a proper name.
Got him.
Holy shit! Duncan, what? What?
He's a rent boy. ABH '98, shoved a broken glass in a client's face. He's had some high-class trade.
He visits them in their homes. Get down there, Duncan.
Take Jez and all the lads you can. The place is like a sieve. I don't want any mistakes.
Where's Jez?
And your lot?
Here, here and round the back.
OK, let's see if there's anybody at home.
Police!
Jez, let go now. Let go now!
You should be in the Flying Squad.
OK, caution him.
Kevan Latimer...
I am arresting you... Oh, my God. ..on suspicion of murder.
Interview commencing 15:05... Sit down!
Officers present, Chief Inspector Metcalfe, DI Warren.
Why did you run? I owe some money. I thought you were collecting. Owe who? Some people. A punter? No comment.
A punter like Philip Blake? Tell me about Philip. He's dead. How d'you know? I CAN read. Don't get smart.
Where were you the night Blake died? I could sue you for assault. YOU nearly took a punter's eye out.
He hurt me. Do you want to see my scars? Did Philip hurt you?
No. Is that why you killed him? I didn't kill him. I never touched him.
Kids' home when you were seven. Even your mum didn't want you. Selling your body at ten. You're scum.
The suspect has been handed a handkerchief.
We're giving you a chance, Kevan.
A clean slate to start again.
What happened with Philip?
Philip taught me that.
You're good with your hands.
I give good head as well. Is that what James Buxton thought? Who? James Perch? Never heard of him.
Maybe James Buxton was a client. No. D'you know all your clients' names? No.
How d'you know he wasn't a client like Philip? Philip wasn't a client. Not any more. He was getting married.
I know. How do you know? Because he invited me.
I got a proper invitation. White card. The works.
Why the hell would he ask you? Scum?
It proved to me that I was his friend.
Not just some...
He was my friend, all right? He cared about me.
You must have been upset and confused when you found out he was getting married. I told him...
I told him he was screwing up his life. Where did you tell him? In his house? Yeah. When?
When? Just before I took 25 sleepers and he rushed me to hospital. When was that? I don't know.
Tuesday...Wednesday. Where were you the night he died?
Rehab clinic.
What?
Rehab clinic.
He made me promise to clean up. Then he goes and dies on me.
The supervisor said Kevan couldn't have slipped out without him knowing.
But their security system's a bloody farce. Kevan signed in and he signed out. That means nothing.
It means we can't hold onto him. Two of our victims were gay. That can't be a coincidence.
OK. Find out more about him, but, Duncan, be tactful.
20 quid to get in! These people are doubly sick!
Have you ever seen any of these men?
You're not going to get them into trouble. Trust me. You'd be helping them out. Him.
When was he last here? A while ago.
Did he come often? Pretty much. Usually with a younger guy.
That's the one. Did you ever see him with anyone else?
Philip and Latimer. No-one else. Let's get out of here.
What?!
Joke. It was me.
Disappointed?
Ever seen these men?
No.
Yes.
No.
Oi!
How about any of these?
Him.
They should be warned. We go public. Mass panic. Killer goes to ground.
Other scenario. We don't go public. More innocent people die. Big stakes, Red. Gambling with lives.
Serial killer, targeting gays. We cannot be certain that these are homosexually motivated killings.
There are too many other factors. No semen. Underpants. Missing tongues. Spoons. We understand.
You reckon you should have cracked it by now, so you want to hang on to all of it. I'd be the same.
But the killer has the advantage. We've got to concentrate on our defence. I'm the senior officer.
It's decided.
You defaulted on two months' child support payments. It's not as simple...
Yes or no? That is not the point.
That IS the point. How do I know what she is doing with the money?
For God's sake! I should be allowed to see my son whenever I want, not one weekend in two,
having to grovel if I bring him back a minute late. It was all agreed. By flashy suits charging £50 an hour.
I had to buy her out of the house. Know what a copper earns? This isn't helping. You only care about money!
Mr Meadows, Duncan has a serious gambling problem. Old story, Helen.
You like to gamble? I like to drink. I'm not an alcoholic!
'The news that a serial killer is targeting gays in London has caused panic in the homosexual community.
'The Church of England has registered strong objections at the posthumous outing of Bishop Perch...'
I was just coming to see you. Why wasn't I told? It came from Emerson.
It would have come out soon. Better now on our terms. Why didn't you consult me? You didn't consult ME.
We have a policy of open policing. You should have trusted me.
This is about saving lives and - need I emphasise? - careers. Which one of my officers told you?
How am I supposed to run a major investigation if I am deliberately kept in the dark?
This isn't the time, Chief Inspector.
Chief Inspector, why wasn't this made public earlier? The "gay theory" is one of several lines of enquiry.
We would not like to place undue emphasis on this. We have a number of promising leads.
And we are sparing no effort to apprehend the killer.
I can say no more at this moment. Sorry.
You talk to ME before you go above my head.
I demand loyalty from EVERY member of my team.
If I find out who went to Emerson, I promise you, you're out!
SIREN WAILS Ah! Come on! Come on!
What's he holding in his hand?
His skin, your stupid tart.
He's been skinned alive.
The killer made cut marks round the neck and upper arms and the waist, removing the skin like a vest.
'He then skinned the arms separately, like sleeves,
'making an incision down the long axis from the shoulder to the hand to save time.'
On a man this age, tissue under the skin contains tougher fattier fibres.
The skin would not peel off.
Instead, it appears as though he used his hands with a knife to push the skin aside,
as though he were skinning an animal. It doesn't look as though Bart Miller died of blood loss.
More likely he died of fright.
Find Latimer.
I don't care what his alibi is, just bring him in.
Bart was a tanner. He was skinned alive.
Philip was a chef. The killer didn't fricassee him. He hung him. You're going up a blind alley.
Had Bart worked here long?
Five, five and a half years. Know anything about his private life?
What do you mean, private life? Friends, lovers, people he hung out with. He was a friend of mine.
He's just died.
Please, let's just leave it. It's possible that the killer knew Bart.
It is vital that you help us with any information that you can.
If we could just keep this quiet.
I don't want to hurt anyone, especially not Maggie. Maggie?
His girlfriend. Look, pal, we're all very broad-minded. We have heard it all before.
OK.
He was having an affair.
With Jenny in the office.
He wasn't rich or gay, wasn't killed in southwest London. No link to the others. Killer got the wrong guy.
The killer hasn't got anything wrong so far. How do you know that?
You make sodding pronouncements. You don't know that! I know. Wake up! We're back to square one!
Oh, please, not now.
I told you years ago, you've got to see a shrink about this.
Do you want me to drive?
Latimer took a major overdose four days ago. He's been in a coma in intensive care ever since.
They don't expect him to last the weekend.
I'm sorry.
I'm so sorry.
No, no, no, no. No!
No. No...
There's been another one.
He was skinned alive.
A man died because I don't get it!
Philip Blake...
chef,
hanged, Fulham, first of May.
James Perch, bishop, beaten, Wandsworth, also first of May.
James Buxton...
soldier, beheaded, Putney, July 25th.
Bart Miller, tannery worker, skinned...
Wapping...
August 24th.
Each had their tongues cut out. Each had silver spoons in their mouths.
Each stripped to their underpants.
The first three were gay, well off and lived in southwest London.
The last...
was straight and broke.
We're dealing with a signature serial killer here.
There has to be a link between all the victims.
We start again.
Maybe he changed the pattern because we gave the press the gay theory.
He's laughing at us. He's dragging us around by the balls.
I'd like you to see the counsellor.
What for? Because I'm not delivering your killer in time? Think I'm not up to it?
It's not personal.
Oh, it's personal.
Me asking you to see someone, or the case?
I'd ask anyone who was leading this investigation. You're eating it, sleeping it.
How's Susan?
Fine. Good. So, I'll put you down for a session.
Dinner's on me tonight.
Well, this is jolly, isn't it? Can't beat a bit of bonding over a biryani.
Ground rules - no shop talk, no heavy petting, until you're in the privacy of your own home.
Poppadum, anyone?
You're a pig! And there's me thinking I'm a funeral director.
Look...
I'd like to take this opportunity... ..to thank my mother, my agent... Shut it, Duncan.
..to thank you all for...
..well, for your hard work these past few months.
It hasn't been easy.
It...it's been...
To the team.
The team. The team.
The team.
How come you're off the bevvy?
Training. Besides, it kills the memory cells.
I'll drink to that.
Maybe I'll get a personal fitness trainer. Kate, you could come over and harden me muscles.
You're really sad. At least I'm not panting for someone in my own team. Let's not get... Personal?
Kate's tongue's hanging out every time she looks at him. It's hanging out so far, you don't need Jez...
Duncan. It's all right, Jez. I can handle this.
Argh! Say sorry. I've vindaloo down my shirt, you daft cow! Say sorry!
Will you get off and sit down and eat your dinner? Stop mucking about. Say sorry. You've got a bloody...
Red, are you all right?
RED GASPS FOR BREATH Are you OK?
Hey...thank you.
Don't ever do that again.
MUSIC: "Design For Life" by the Manic Street Preachers
MUSIC CHANGES TO "Rock The Casbah" by The Clash
'There are roadworks on the A3
'and traffic is now congested for about a mile, starting at the Queen's Head roundabout.
'Traffic is backed up for about two miles coming out of the city. This should be avoided if possible.
'There are are no problems... '
What's that?
He used a heavy knife, possibly a machete, and he used it with force.
Look at the depth of the cuts.
Imagine the height of the back swing to get spray marks that long.
Matthew Fox, Mr Average.
So, what connects him to our other victims?
Maybe offing the taxman is the killer's idea of a public service. Shut up, Duncan.
'How does it make you feel?'
Angry? Indignant?
Scared?
No.
You don't hate him? I don't know him. How can I hate him?
No suspect after four months' work. He's giving you the runaround. I'd hate him. I want to stop him.
Hate would be counterproductive. It's that easy for you?
Do you become emotionally engaged with your... What am I? Your patient, client? No, I don't.
I don't deal with monsters.
Define monster.
Your better at asking questions than answering them, aren't you? I hope so.
Why are you frightened of people knowing the man behind the job? I'm not. Do you have something to hide?
Do you talk to anybody about what you see?
Colleagues. Apart from them.
No.
Your wife? Sometimes.
Friends? No.
Family?
'It's me. You've got to come!
'NOW!
'Help me, Red! Please! Help me!
'Help me!'
Who is it? Who do you think?
Hey, hey...
What is it?
What's wrong?
We don't speak. Why not?
These things happen.
What's wrong with her? Is she pissed? We both were.
For God's sake, Eric. I want her out of here.
Come on now, Charlotte. Wake up. Get her out. Tell her to go!
Come on now. Time to get to your own bed. Charlotte!
She's dead. She's mucking about.
What did you do? I didn't do anything. You must have done something! She's dead, Eric!
She's dead!
Now, calm down and start at the beginning. We were at a party.
MUSIC: Tears for Fears, "Everybody Wants To Rule The World"
'She was hot, honest.
'SHE came on to ME. I thought, "This is it. This is gonna be the one." Then the stupid slag...!'
She changed her mind? It was her fault. She led me on. What did she expect me to do? You kept on going?
Dear God... She was screaming. I just wanted to shut her up.
Next thing...
I didn't mean to kill her.
Why didn't you call an ambulance? She was dead! Why would I need an ambulance? OK. You've got to help me.
Please. You've got to help me. It was an accident.
We'll have to tell someone. No, we can't. No. Please. I'm sorry!
Stupid, STUPID bugger! I know. Oh, I need to think about this. No.
You can't leave me here. You've got to promise you'll help me.
Yeah, I promise. I promise.
You promise? Yeah, I promise!
I promise.
'RED!'
R-E-D! HELP ME!
Red!
You promised me! RED!
You promised me, Red!
You promised me!
Why can't I see him?
Later. Are you bailing him? No.
We're charging Eric with murder. Murder?
She was suffocated. He's my brother.
I trusted you! You've done the right thing, believe me.
No. No, no.
It's worse than that.
It's me.
Eric!
Eric, Eric, leave him.
I'm all right. I'm all right!
Leave me!
Did he hurt you?
Who is that? What? The statue. Who is it?
Saint Bartholomew.
Bartholomew.
This is of St Bart's. What's he holding? His skin.
He was flayed alive.
Saint Bartholomew was one of the 12 Apostles, you see.
What were the names of the other Apostles? Simon, Peter... Philip? Yes. How did he die?
Hanged.
James? Yes, there were two.
One was bludgeoned to death. The other was beheaded. Matthew?
Matthew was slain with a halberd, a machete.
(He's killing the Apostles.)
He's killing the Apostles.
Bartholomew, skinned alive.
Philip, hanged.
Two James...one beaten to death, the other beheaded.
Matthew...
..killed with a machete. What about the ones who are left?
Er...Andrew and...
Peter were both crucified.
Andrew on a saltire which is an X-shaped cross.
Peter...upside down.
Judas hanged himself.
Thomas...
was stabbed by a lance.
Jude...
was clubbed to death.
Simon...
was...
What?
Simon was sawn in half.
Yes. All right! Quiet! Quiet!
Is there any discernible order to these killings? No. None that I can see.
The victims are found with silver teaspoons in their mouths.
Ah. Were they plain or decorated?
Plain.
Well, there are sets of a dozen teaspoons called Apostle spoons.
But normally they have the Apostle's heads engraved on the top. I suppose our victims provided the decoration.
Tongues. The Apostles spoke in tongues. Tongues? Sorry?
He cuts the tongues out and takes them away as trophies.
Oh, my God!
Bring him a chair.
Stephen, are you all right? No, I'm all right. Really...
Do you want to...? I'm all right. We're looking for someone who's got it in for the Church, for Christ.
Religious sects? Fundamentalists. Abused by a priest as a kid.
The Devil. OK, OK. What could we mean by that?
Someone who sees himself as the Antichrist, perhaps.
So we trawl the loony bins, the prisons, any recently released religious nutters... No.
No, for the first time, we're ahead of him. Seven men will die if we don't get this right.
We keep the lid on this. And we stop him.
Understood?
Long day at the office? Busiest day ever.
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