Sacrifice (2016) - full transcript

Sacrifice is the story of consultant surgeon, Tora Hamilton, who moves with her husband, Duncan, to the remote Shetland Islands, 100 miles off the north-east coast of Scotland. Deep in the peat soil around her new home, Tora discovers the body of a young woman with rune marks carved into her skin and a gaping hole where her heart once beat. Ignoring warnings to leave well alone, Tora uncovers terrifying links to a legend that might never have been confined to the pages of the story-books.

Hello, Janice. Doctor Hamilton.

Everything's gonna be okay.

My baby.

I need you to relax your stomach muscles.

Okay.

She's having a complete
placental abruption.

What's wrong with my baby?

Your placenta has dislodged
from the uterine lining.

Which means your baby needs to
come out right now. Do you understand?

I'm going to perform a C-section. Okay.

- Call Ops, tell them we're coming down.
- Doctor Hamilton...



Oxytocin's not working, can you...

Doctor Hamilton. It's not her. It's you.

Oh, shit! No!

Oh, shit!

There you are.

Welcome to Unst.

Thank you for doing this. I know adopting
in America would have been easier, but...

I just want a baby.

Come on.
Let me make you breakfast. Come on.

Then I'll show you around the island.

Beautiful, eh?

Hey... what are these things?

- I see them all over the island.
- You mean the runes?

No, these, these carving things.



Not ruins, I said "runes."
It's old Viking script.

And you'll have to watch yourself as you
might have people make fun of your accent.

- I don't have an accent!
- Spoken like a true American.

Right now...

we're north of the last inhabited house
in the UK. The closest train station...

it's 300 kilometers that way, in Norway.

- Really?
- Yeah.

I used to come here when I was a kid.
It felt like the end of the world.

What's that?

Oh, that? That's Tronal Island.
That's where we'll be adopting our baby from.

Are you okay?

I just hate not knowing why.

Excuse me.
I'm looking for Doctor Wickliff's office?

Oh, he's on the third floor.
Just that way.

Thank you.

This is quite a CV.

Thank you.

I think you might find things a lot quieter
here at Saxa Vord than you maybe used to.

- Well, I hope so.
- So how soon would you like to get started?

- If you need a week or two to settle in...
- No, actually, I'd like to keep busy.

Idle hands are the devil's playthings, eh?

Something like that.

We act as a fully functioning hospital
and all out patient treatments.

We have Oncology, Pediatrics,
Coronary care,

there's even a Psychiatrist on call.

And then anything long term,
they transfer to Lerwick.

And this is your office.

Oh... nice.

- What's in that wing?
- Upstairs is Dental,

downstairs Physiotherapy and a Burns Unit
and in the basement we have the Mortuary.

Oh, you certainly pack it all in.

Well, you have your father-in-law
to thank for that.

He prided himself on the care he provided.

He said, "Just because we're an island,
doesn't mean people don't deserve the best."

- Oh, yeah, there he is.
- Is that the heartbeat?

Yes.

A toast to my only son and heir

beautiful wife and to my future grandson.

- Cheers!
- Cheers!

It's good to have you back, Duncan.
And, thank you, Tora, for bringing him.

No, thank you, Richard, for everything,
for the house, for my job, for...

- the adoption.
- It's what families are for.

Anything you ever need,
please don't hesitate to ask.

- How are you finding the islands dear?
- I think they're beautiful.

- And the hospital? You're settling in?
- Ken treating you well, I hope.

- He's a prick.
- Oh, Duncan!

Why would you say that?

Because he's licked dad's ass
since we were kids.

He's modelled his entire career on him.

You're criticizing the man
for knowing what he wanted?

Who's for pudding?
I made your favorite, Duncan.

Cranachan.

- You spoil me, thank you.
- Tora, um...

why don't you go
and help Elspeth with the coffee?

- Not too much sugar, sweetie.
- Oh? Why is that?

'Cause I had too many New York slices
got to lose a few pounds.

- Oh!
- Nonsense.

The world's gone diet mad.

Oh, who's this? Is this you?

No, that's Duncan's mother, Rose.
She died shortly after Duncan's birth.

And is that the library?

No, dear, that's Richard's study.

Your dad doesn't know
you're diabetic, does he?

And burst his illusion
that Guthrie men are perfect?

And here we are. Tronal International.

It's amazing to think
this is all just maternity.

You'd be surprised how many women
need sensitive solutions

to unfortunate or ill-timed pregnancies
even this day and age.

And with us, we guarantee
their baby will be well cared for.

That's one of the reasons
they come to Tronal.

- What's the other reason?
- Anonymity.

So, who provides your obstetrics support?

We have a resident OBGYN.
A fellow of the Royal College.

He has six fully qualified
midwives working with him.

So, I can assure you
our clients are well cared for.

Would you like some tea?
Or a dram of whisky?

Uh, no, thank you.

I'm sure your father
explained the process.

You're set up with bank accounts
and jobs here on the island.

Uh, why the twelve months
before we can adopt the baby?

Well, that's to settle any residency
issues with the Scottish Government.

We don't go giving our
wee nippers to just anyone.

No, there's just the matter
of some filing fees

and we can get you on the waiting list.

- Is that your son?
- Aye.

- He's very handsome.
- Thank you.

We adopted him from Tronal, actually.

Really? He's not yours?

He has your eyes.

Oh, no.

At the tone, record your message.
To end, please hang up.

Hi, this is Dr. Hamilton. I'm going to need
someone to cover my morning patients.

Oh, Jesus. Oh, Jesus.

Tora Guthrie?

- Detective Inspector McKie.
- Hi.

- This is D.S. Tulloch.
- Hi.

What can you tell us, Steven?

Well, at first glance,
what we have here are the remains

of a female aged somewhere
between 25 and 35 years of age.

Her skin has been tanned
by the peat, but...

from her bone structure and the shape of her
skull I'm pretty sure that she's Caucasian.

What are those markings?

They look like runes that have either
been carved or branded into the flesh.

From the position, I say they
couldn't have been self-inflicted.

You sure about that?

Sure as I am...
that she didn't die of natural causes.

I had no reception. Are you okay?

Did you hear that her heart was cut out?

Gives me the creeps to think of her
lying downstairs right now.

- What are you doing?
- Dr. Hamilton, you shouldn't be in here.

I'm sorry. I... I just...

You do realize this woman gave birth
shortly before she was murdered?

This is a police investigation.

No, that's okay. Go on, doctor.

The uterus contracts...

between one and three weeks after delivery

depending on the age of the mother,
the younger the woman,

the faster this happens.

In my opinion, this woman gave birth
between a week to ten days before she died.

You're sure about that?

Well, if you look here, you can see that...
that she was nursing.

Is she right?

Hm, it seems your talents are wasted
on the living, Dr. Hamilton.

So, what do we have so far?

We only know that the victim's rib cage
was split open with some kind of blade

and that she died of a massive hemorrhage
when her heart was cut out.

Why take the heart?

Maybe someone was trying
to harvest her organs.

This was no harvest.

Pulmonary trunk and semi aorta
were both quite badly hacked out.

Also, there's trauma on the wrist
the upper arm and the ankle.

Probably from some kind of restraints.

So, she was probably still alive
when they did this to her?

Jesus!

Oh, these islands were rife
with this sort of thing way back when...

the Druids, the Norsemen...
they all performed ritual sacrifices.

Do you think she's that old?
I mean, she looks so...

Preserved? Well, she's a bog body.
Buried in peat.

After death... putrefactive bacteria
secretes digestive enzymes

which decompose the body, but...

sphagnum moss in the peat

chemically reacts with the enzymes
and immobilizes them.

If you have to guess?

I found...

these strawberry seeds in her stomach.

Wild strawberries haven't grown
around these parts in over 200 years.

200 years, that...

hardly seems possible.

Google Tollund Man.

Dug up some time in the '50s.

He was in such good condition that the Danish
thought that he was some recent murder.

Turns out he was from the 4th Century BC.

Hey. What are you doing?

Oh, I... all this wood's rotten
I've got to throw it all out.

What happened?

Builder in the village said there was
a flood a couple of years ago,

some big storm and the whole area
was underwater for three days.

Seriously, I thought this place
would be a nice 12-month flip.

Need a hand?

You with a hammer? No.
Can you get me some pizza?

- Thought you were off the slices.
- Yeah, well...

Hey...

when did you say this happened?

Uh... early 2012.

Are you sure?

That's what he said. Why?

Tora!

Already did a thorough autopsy,
Dr. Hamilton.

What's going on?

If the peat bog floods,
its preserving abilities become diluted.

Just take a look at the dates.

So, if Jane Doe was in the ground
before the storm

her body would be
in much poorer condition than it is.

- The case is closed, Dr. Hamilton.
- Okay, well, what if I'm right?

What if she was murdered
less than three years ago?

You're not!

Okay, so you're going to turn your back
on a sacrificial murder?

Now, you listen to me,
and you listen to me good.

Sacrificial, satanic, ritualistic.

They're all words I don't want to hear.

If you want someone dead,
you slit their throat

or you put a pillow over their head.

Maybe you blow their brains out
with a shotgun

but you do not do
what was done to that poor girl

and I don't care what you call it.

What are you doing still standing there?

Well, what do you expect him to say?
He's just trying to keep a lid on things.

Tora, you've got to let it go.

There is one question nobody's asking.

What's that?

What happened to the baby?

Tora.

- So when did you find it?
- This morning.

But I'm pretty sure I haven't worn
those boots since that day.

"Z.M. and J.H."

Zoe McClaskey and Joss Hawick.

Councilor Hawick?

- You must be mistaken.
- Well, I checked the island records.

You know how many women
whose names begin with Z

have been married on this island
in the past 50 years?

- No.
- 3. How many Z.M.'s?

1. Plus there's a child and his age fits.

Okay, I'll look into it.

That's all I ask.

Hey.

- How are you feeling?
- Oh!

I'm fine.

That was a terrible thing,
you finding that body.

You're tense as hell.

Yeah.

- Duncan.
- Guthrie!

I was wondering when you were going
to show your face around here.

Get your hands off my wife.

Just being friendly.

- What are you doing here?
- Lunch, remember?

Right.

So, you know you've got nothing
to worry about with Ken, I mean...

No, I know, I know,
I just saw his hands on you, and I...

Hmm...

Hang on.

Yeah, it's me.

Are you writing to the Trowey folk?

- Who?
- The Grey fellows.

- Are you talking about these?
- Aye.

What? You know what these are?

Trowey marks, sure.

- I'm sorry. What... what's a Trowey?
- The Trows...

Jimmy! Leave the good doctor
alone, will you?

No, no, it's okay. Really.

Can you read these?

- Aye.
- Jimmy!

Away with you.

Sorry about that, doctor.
He'll not bother you again.

The Trows, eh?

Now, why on Earth would you be
asking about these old stories?

Oh, just curiosity.

You want to be careful.

You know what happened to the cat.

I'm just joshing.

Are you going to tell me why this sudden
fascination with our local folklore?

Well, have you ever seen...

these?

- These are from the body you found.
- How do you know that?

Because Andy McKie already
asked me to translate them.

What are you doing with them?

Well, I just...

can't get them out of my head.
I wanna know what they mean.

Well, therein lies the rub.
They're not from the Norse runic alphabet.

So as far as I can tell,
they don't mean anything.

I met a guy in a bar. Um, Jim somebody.

He said he could translate them.

- Jimmy McNally?
- Yeah.

Well, I shouldn't set too much
store by what he says.

You know we do have
a police force here, you know, Tora.

It may not be much of one,
but, um... it works for us.

You're looking really good
and I'll be seeing you in a month.

And you get some rest, okay?

Oh, Sergeant Tulloch.

Come in.

So, how bad is it?

- You're six weeks along.
- Shit!

Sorry.

Not the reaction
you usually get, I'm sure.

Well, it's early days.

You still have options.

No, I don't.

I'm going to write you a prescription
for some pre-natal vitamins.

I was praying it was stress.

I should be so lucky, right?

Thanks.

Sergeant.

Is there any news on the case?

Oh, right, um,
I spoke to Councilor Hawick.

He wasn't happy, obviously,
but I showed him the ring.

He denied that it was his wife's.
Said hers was buried with her at St. Magnus.

- So, she is dead.
- Three years ago.

Some sort of horse riding accident.

So, the time of death fits. If she had
the boy within two weeks of her death...

She didn't.

Mr. Hawick adopted his son, as a newborn
about 8 months after Zoe died.

What about the initials, though?
She's the only one on the island that fits.

Maybe that's the problem.

We get thousands of visitors here every year.
They trample all over this island.

Any one of them could be
the Z.M. that lost the ring.

Probably there's nothing
to do with our Jane Doe.

What? So, that's... that's it?

We have no ID. The case is closed.

Look, for what it's worth, I looked through
our database for the last 3 years

and nobody matching Jane Doe's age
or height was reported missing.

Well, what if she wasn't reported missing?

Then I don't know what database
to look through for that.

Thanks.

Oh, dear.

Doctor... would you let me
get that for you?

Oh, would you?

Thank you.

Yeah? No, I'm here.

Yeah, hang on.

Okay, got it.

Don't worry, it's been taken care of.

Okay, Zoe.

Let's see if your husband
was telling the truth.

Let's try women between the ages of 16...

and... 34.

Shit!

Oh, shit! Ah! Shi...

Get off me!

- Did you see the man's face?
- No.

But it's pretty clear he didn't want me
getting out of there with that X-ray.

- You stole this from the mortuary?
- I took it to see if I could find a match.

And then Stephen Renney showed up
and took the rest of the autopsy file.

But that's evidence,
that doesn't make sense.

Oh, it will.
It will when you see who Jane Doe is.

Theresa Renney?

There must be a mistake.

Why?

'Cause Renney's wife died
of ovarian cancer in October 2011.

There's no way she had a child.
You must have grabbed the wrong X-ray.

I didn't.

Look, I don't know what's going on
here but you now have a positive ID,

so the question is
what are you gonna do with it?

I'll do the talking.

You found these on the corridor floor
and ran a search to match for filing, okay?

Sure.

Sir, some new evidence has come to light.

Ah, Sergeant Tulloch, Doctor Hamilton.

You both know Stephen Gair.

Hello, Tora. How's Duncan?

He's fine.

If you don't mind, sir,
we need a private word.

There's no need for that.
I filled him in on what's going on.

Is that right?

Last week a body was found
in your land, Tora.

And my sympathies, by the way.

The body was that of a young woman
who was brutally murdered a long time ago

and whose remains are probably destined
for the Museum of Natural History.

Yet despite the coroner's findings
the two of you have engaged

in an unethical possibly illegal,
comparison of dental records.

I believe you found a match to Doctor
Renney's late wife, Theresa.

- How do you know?
- It's a small island.

The problem, Mr. Gair, is that we've now
revised the estimate of time of death.

It's irrelevant. Whether your Jane Doe
died last week or a thousand years ago...

Theresa was under the supervision of the
finest doctors at Saxa Vord when she passed.

She was then cremated.
There were over 50 people at her service.

Including McKie here.

That's true.

You seem very sure
of Theresa Renney's medical records.

That's because my own wife passed away
right around the same time.

It was a very hard time for everyone.

- I'm telling you he's lying.
- Oh, Tora.

Stephen Renney may have murdered his wife.
That doesn't bother you?

Yeah, yeah, of course, but...

How could Renney's wife
be the body buried in our field

when everybody saw it being buried
in the graveyard 6 months earlier.

I don't know.

And how could she have a baby
when she's riddled with cancer?

Well, obviously, she couldn't.

Well, is it possible
that he faked her illness?

You can't fake Stage 4 ovarian cancer.

Well, here's... here's a bigger question.
Why would he do it?

- I don't know.
- Duncan!

Yeah, look, I've got to go, okay.
I'll see you back at the house.

- Okay.
- Bye-bye.

You can leave your bags over there, Suzie.

Can I help you with something,
Dr. Hamilton?

Were you working here 3 years ago?

No, I wasn't. I'm sorry,
did you want me to call Doctor Wickliff?

No, it's okay.

Now, remember,
she may not look quite herself.

Your mother's lost a lot
of weight due to the chemo.

It's okay, come here.

Everybody knows that Theresa Renney
died of Stage 4 ovarian cancer, right?

- Correct.
- So...

how could she be in the hospital
and buried in my field?

- She couldn't.
- Exactly.

So what if Theresa Renney
was never in the hospital?

- What do you mean?
- Have you ever been to an Oncology ward?

Some of the victims
are so badly ravaged by cancer

that their own families
barely recognize them.

Are you saying he switched
his sick wife for someone else?

I'm saying Theresa Renney
was never even sick.

But why go to all that risk?

There wasn't even any life insurance.
Her death cost Renney money.

What if it wasn't about the money?
What if it was about the baby?

Just... just take a look at this.

"The Kunal Trows?" You know
these stories are told to wee bairns.

Not this version. This was sent to me
by an expert at Oxford University.

"The Kunal Trows were a patriarchal
warrior race of Shetland males

"who believed themselves stronger,
healthier and smarter than ordinary men.

"Unable to beget female children
to reproduce with

"the Trows selected human females to marry

"and the babies born of these unions
were always strong healthy sons.

"Then nine days after delivery
and the Trows having no further use for them,

"the mothers were sacrificed
by having their hearts cut out."

"As part of the burial ceremony,

"the mother's corpse had sacred prayers
carved into her flesh."

- The details are remarkable, but...
- Well, the guy from Oxford

thinks that the Trows
were a real religious sect.

- Real?
- Yeah, what if they still are?

And, what? You think
Stephen Renney is one of them?

- I don't know.
- Yeah, well, I do.

Look, it's the 21st century
and nobody would believe this stuff.

It's crazy.

All I'm saying is, there is something
weird going on on this island

and you can't just ignore this.

Oh, it's McKie, I have to get back.

I'll see myself out.

Look, I'm sorry, Tora, but...

it's a small island and a group with
the kind of power you're talking about...

they just couldn't hide.

Ah, doctor, can I get you a drink?

Actually, do you have an address
for Jim McNally?

Drunk Jimmy?

Yeah.

Aye. I'll get you a pen.

Aye. She's here right now.

Asking about Jimmy McNally.

- How was work?
- Exhausting.

Had a problem with some of the machinery.

Go back to sleep.

- Inspector McKie.
- Dr. Hamilton.

- What are you doing here?
- I was passing by, I saw the ambulance.

- Can I be of any help?
- Well, not with this one, I'm afraid.

What happened?

McKIE: Drunken idiot must've fallen off.

How do you know he was drunk?

Old McNally, you have a hard time
finding him sober.

Some of these roads are treacherous
after dark, doctor.

You'd do well to remember that.

So... what's so important we couldn't meet
at the station or your office?

- What's this?
- Members of the Shetland Rite.

And these dates next to them?

Those are the dates
their first wives died.

And the stars next to that?

Those whose baby
either survived the mother

or who adopted a son within 9 months.

Your husband's father's name's
on this list.

I know.

What you're suggesting takes planning
and money. Lots of money.

Password protected.

What's that?

Got it from a hacker back in Dundee.

Oh, I should get one of those.

Did you find anything?

Nothing stands out in Renney's accounts.
They look in order, but...

Hang on, what's this?

Three payments from Gair's
account to something called

- the Cathy J Morton Trust.
- Who's that?

I don't know, but they add up to over
300,000 pounds. Look at the dates.

September to October 2011.

Right around the time
Theresa Renney reportedly died.

Shit!

That's the cops.

Jesus, what are you doing?

- Go out the back way.
- What about you?

I'll be fine, just go.

Dana?

- That took forever.
- Well, what did you tell them?

That I saw some kids leaving the building
and that it looked like a burglary.

Anyway, I ran a check
on Catherine J Morton.

- Guess what she died of?
- Ovarian Cancer?

Stage 4. Exactly the same
as Theresa Renney.

Anyway, I'm driving up to Oban now
to talk to the family

to show them a picture of Stephen Renney.

If I hurry, I should make the last ferry.

Okay, look, Duncan's here. I should go.

So call me when you talk to them.

Go around, dickhead!

Dana, you okay?

Some arse thinks he owns the road.

- He just hit me.
- What?

- He hit you?
- What's going on?

- He's following me.
- Well, pull over. Let him pass.

No. I'm not stopping
in the middle of nowhere.

Dana? Dana?

Dana!

Dana!

Dana!

That was McKie.

They still have no leads.

They should ask Stephen Renney
where he was last night.

Tora, you've got to stop this.

But if it was me out there,
you would stop?

- That's an American accent, isn't it?
- Uh, New York.

We went to Florida last year
with the nippers.

Disneyland. Or is it Disney World?

- I always get them confused.
- Yes, it's an easy mistake.

Here, you, never mind her.
Just eat your breakfast.

I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude
but who did you say you are?

My name is Dr. Tora Hamilton. I'm here
on behalf of Detective Sergeant Tulloch.

Who I believe spoke to either you
or your wife on the phone.

She was enquiring
about your sister-in-law.

I thought nobody was gonna be coming.

Who told you that?

Look, Mrs...

if you're not a police woman
then we don't have to answer anything.

So if you'll excuse me,
I've got to go to work.

Okay, Mark. May I call you Mark?

You can call me whatever
you want while you're leaving.

Well, if I walk out that door
the next knock you hear will be the police

and they'll be asking you
all about the Cathy Morton Trust

and how a single income family
living in a house like this

are able to drive a brand new BMW
and taking Florida vacations.

It all started when Stephen
saw her in the local paper.

They'd written a small story
about ovarian cancer.

He said he wanted to help.

- Help? How?
- She was very ill.

In bed all the time. Mark thought
she needed to be in a hospice.

It was bad for the wee nippers.
Seeing their mum like that.

He made her an offer, to take part
in some trials of a new drug

and in return the drug company
would set up a trust fund for her children.

It gets released monthly for things
like school uniforms and child care.

We get none of it, you understand.

So what happened after she agreed?

Stephen paid the first instalment
like he promised.

- And they came for her.
- Who came for her?

An ambulance. A nurse.

I don't really remember.
It all happened so fast.

- Where'd they take her?
- We don't know.

- Did you not go visit her?
- She died a few days later.

Oh, what about the body?

- Did you go to the funeral?
- There wasn't one.

He said that had been part
of the agreement.

Cathy's body would be used for research.

How do you explain that to your child?

So after Renney took her away
you never saw your sister again?

- Who?
- Stephen Renney.

- Who's that?
- I'm sorry. Who are we talking about?

The man we were dealing with
was a lawyer. Stephen Gair.

Look familiar?

- Should she?
- Her name is Cathy Morton.

Now she's the woman you all
watched die of ovarian cancer.

Not... Melissa Gair.

- What are you talking about?
- What I'm saying is that Melissa Gair

is your Jane Doe.

This is preposterous.

Money doesn't lie.

- Where'd you get this?
- From Dana.

I wish we could hear
what his lawyer's telling him.

Whatever it is, he doesn't look happy.

Right.

Let's get back in there.

- What's she doing here?
- She refuses to leave.

Put her in my office.
Give her a cup of tea or something.

My daughters.

They're beautiful.

Aye, they take after their mother.

Please, take a seat.

I don't normally include civilians
at this stage of an investigation.

But in your case...

it seems only fair to tell you that
Stephen Gair gave us a full confession.

What did he confess to?

Well, the murder
of Sergeant Tulloch for starters.

He knew his computer had been accessed.

And he was worried in case she was, uh...

figuring everything out.

- About the Shetland Rite?
- About his money laundering scheme.

What?

He murdered his wife Melissa because
she was threatening to expose him.

Unless he paid millions in the divorce.
Knew the house was empty.

He kept Melissa there until she
gave birth, then he killed her.

That can't be right. This is a cult murder.
What about the markings?

What about the missing heart?

All done to throw us off
if the body was ever found.

He said he got the idea of switching bodies,
carving her up, cutting out her heart,

from a local legend.

He claims he did this alone?

That's right.

Well, what about Theresa Renney's X-Rays?

Planted by Gair.

When Renney found out, he panicked.

Alison Gair is here.

Right. Well, I hope this, uh...
gives you closure, Dr. Hamilton.

And, uh, I'd appreciated you keeping
what I've told you between us for now.

What happened to Melissa's baby?

Gair faked an adoption.

Does his current wife know?

Not yet.

Mrs. Gair.

Hi.

- What's all this?
- It's an apology.

I heard about Stephen Gair.
I should have listened to you.

Just...

Answer me one thing.

The other night, you weren't at work
you went to a meeting with the Rite.

- You followed me?
- Just tell me why you lied.

Well, it's supposed to be a surprise.

Dad's organizing a big party for us
when we get the baby.

Why? Wha... When did you...

Why don't you hold him?

- Me?
- Of course.

Come here.

When can we take him home?

We monitor the babies for 9 days just to
make sure there's no medical complications.

And to finalize all the paperwork.

You, hello.

Thank you.

You're a natural.

Great to see you again.

Tora, you look absolutely lovely.

Oh, thank you. What a beautiful party.

Do you mind if I borrow
my son for a moment?

Not at all.

Lady of the hour standing alone.
Well, that won't do at all.

- Ken, are you alone?
- No, I'm with my son, Hamish.

Oh, he's very handsome.
Have any more hidden away?

No, I think you'll find that, uh...
one Unst boy is quite enough.

Oh, duty calls.

- Steven.
- Hello.

- Hi.
- Tora, may I introduce Mr. Grey?

- Oh.
- Congratulations on your adoption.

I'm sure you'll make a splendid mother.

Right, well, I'll just go and see
if Elspeth needs a hand with anything.

Excuse me, Elspeth,
have you seen Tora anywhere?

No.

Ah. Whoa! Hey, easy there, jumpy.

Everybody's been wondering where you are.

What?

Where's my son?
Duncan, old son, where are you?

Duncan, you're wanted.

Duncan, the honor is yours.

Tora!

- Tora!
- Stay away from me.

Where're you going?
You can't run from this.

- You're one of them.
- I'm not, if you couldn't give me a son

they were gonna kill you
to make room for someone who could.

But we tried. We tried so hard.

Even though you knew
what they would do to me!

- I knew you'd never go to term.
- What? How could you know?

How? How did you know?

- What is this?
- It's an unapproved male contraceptive.

- This is what you've been taking?
- Yeah.

Are you even diabetic?

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.

All this time you let me think I was
the reason we couldn't have kids

- when you... you were stopping us.
- I was protecting you.

- Protecting me?
- Yeah.

- You robbed me of my chance to be a mother!
- Do you think I don't know that?

I had four miscarriages
'cause you were taking this shit!

And if you hadn't, you'd have been
a mother for exactly nine days

before they cut your fucking heart out!

Is that what I should have let happen?

Tora, wait!

Don't you get it? I do nothing, you die.
I get you pregnant, you die.

So I made a deal. We adopt one of them...

- they let you live.
- And who's the mother?

Grey's coming. I need
to tell him that you won't talk.

- Who is she?
- Tora, please!

Who is she?

It's Dana.

Dana's alive? She's next?

There's nothing you can do.

Tora!

Wait! Don't! Tora!

Tora!

No!

Nobody hurts her, that was the deal.

You were only allowed to break tradition
if you could control her, you couldn't.

If you weren't Richard's son,
I'd finish you right now.

Nobody...

hurts...

my... wife!

She's taken one of the boats.

Dana?

Dan...

Talk to me.

I have men searching the island for her.

- I don't think she's in the building.
- I don't pay you to think.

We'll just have to keep looking.
She must be here...

- Duncan, what are you doing here?
- He's looking for his wife.

No, no, no, no. I came to warn you.
I couldn't reason with her. She's here.

I know.

Sir, I think you'd better see this.

She's found the ward. Go!

Dana? Dana, wake up. Wake up!

What is this shit?

Dana, can you hear me?

Dana?

She's not down here.

I'll wait here in case she doubles back.

I don't care who does what.

I just want the bitch found, okay?

I'll deal with your wife,

and when I'm done
maybe I'll take care of you.

He's gone.

- How did you know?
- I bought you that perfume, you remember?

Wake her up. Go, go.

It's okay.

No, it's this way, to the lighthouse.
Come on.

Okay. Come on.

Wait.

Please. My son.

Please.

- You go to the boat.
- No, I'll go.

Would you even recognize him?
I'll be right behind you.

Tora, no!

Jesus!

I'm sure it's just a false alarm.

Oh.

It's okay. It's okay.

What are you doing?
Give him to me! Give him to me!

You think you can turn your back on us?

Where's Tora?

- Where is she?
- Duncan!

Dana, run!

Run!

You disgust me!

You're a traitor to your clan!

Come on. I've got you.

If you're not one of us
you can die like one of them!

Dana... come on.

Alright, sweetheart. Sweetie,
I'm just gonna put you down for one second.

There you go.

Come on, Dana, get up! Come on, get up!

Put her down.

Ah!

You've got guts, Tora.

You would've been a strong Trow mother.

Don't you touch that baby.

It's the ninth day.
The ritual must be performed.

The only question is...
will it be done by me?

- Or you?
- Nobody has to do this.

The first milk is done.
The colostrum is gone.

Her body is of no more use
to the boy now than... formula.

- She's his mother.
- No.

You are.

It's what you've always wanted.
It's what you've dreamed of.

And here he is.

And while other mothers only think
their children are special...

yours truly will be.

All you have to do...
is slip the knife into her...

and you get to go home.

You get to live your lives.

What do I have to do?

Kneel over her.

You need to stab down hard...

and slice the rib cage in a sawing motion.

Do it for your son!

And give thanks for the life
this glorious mother

has given our newest son.

So that our genetic supremacy
may continue.

You think you can kill me?

I'm not man, I'm Kunal Trow.

And you... you could have been part of it.

Instead, you'll be just like
the rest of your... miserable kind.

Nothing!

Tora!

Oh, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.

- D.I. McKie.
- Go ahead.

We've got another one. This one's
wearing a necklace that says Zoe.

Joss Hawick's wife.

How many's that?

Too many.

Can I ask you something?

Did you know about all this?

I have daughters.

They were all somebody's daughter.