Whitechapel (2009–2013): Season 4, Episode 3 - Episode #4.3 - full transcript
A young woman is menaced in a graveyard but her stalker is slain by an assassin, who runs away. Next morning a human face is found in an art gallery exhibiting the works of Sebastian Marlowe, the body being later fished from a river. Numerous tattoos on body and face identify the dead man as Nikolay Baldaev, a member of the Russian Mafia and, on the house-to-house enquiry butcher Anjit Marsud and his daughter Sabina deny knowing him but appear to be lying. Chandler establishes that Sebastian Marlowe does not exist, the work being created by his supposed assistant Abigail Perkins, a young woman with a disfiguring birth-mark on her face. Then mechanic Harry Barnett is also killed and flayed, the same sequence of letters found in his house as in the gallery and a third victim, another tattooed man, is also taken. At the same time the police station is beset by power cuts, floods and mildew and Wingfield's notes which were sent to Chandler after his suicide reveal that he was investigating the same crimes as the police.
(LAUGHING)
Woooah!
(FOOTSTEPS)
Happy Birthday, Joe.
(CHUCKLES) It's not much but...
It's a hagstone.
It's to protect the wearer against
witchcraft and evil charms.
Thought it might bring
a smile to your face.
Obviously not.
It's very thoughtful, Ed,
thank you.
That's it, Eddie, look, look, look!
It's two hands
but it's the only way...
Sorry, sir.
(CHATTER AND LAUGHTER)
(SHOUTING AND SCREAMING)
(CHEERING)
(SINGING)
You're pulling my ear out.
Ah, it's these shoes.
They're killing me.
Come on, Sabine, I'm busting.
You go then. I'm gonna cut through.
My feet are killing me.
Text me when you get in, yeah? Yeah.
Right, come on then, Marlowe,
chuck a bit this way.
Off we go!
Oh, here we go!
(CHEERING)
(PANTING)
(PANTING CONTINUES)
(PHONE RINGS)
Where is your daddy now, little girl?
(STRUGGLES)
(DOOR SLAMS)
Who's there?
(DISTANT SCREAMING)
(SCREAMS)
The clear one's here.
Good. Cover this area.
It is definitely human?
I'm afraid so. Male.
40 to 50 years old.
The fasciculation
around the lips would suggest
that a liquid anaesthetic
was applied. Probably chloroform.
Could it be surgical?
Doubtful. I've done this
procedure myself hundreds of times.
When you know what you're doing
it's just like peeling a satsuma.
But this was done in haste
and with a certain amount of force.
The facial arteries have spurted,
which tells us he was alive when
the flaying took place.
Jesus!
Time of death?
Between 8-24 hours.
I'd normally do a rectal
temperature but... No rectum.
Mm. That's all there
is to say, really.
Unless he's on the database,
he's gonna be a bugger to ID.
What about the tattoos?
They look pretty specific.
They're not recent.
They're at least a decade old.
Well, we'll go through the mug books.
Some things are better done
the old fashioned way.
The title card's in a different
font to all the others.
Different font?
It doesn't even make sense.
It's not part of the exhibition.
Someone's put it there for a reason.
What do you think it means?
Get it checked for prints.
Well, someone's forgotten
their pleases and thank-yous.
He's under a lot of pressure.
(PHONE RINGS) Thanks.
Hello.
(LOW LEVEL CHATTER)
Excuse me? What's going on?
The gallery's closed.
Why? What's happening?
It's a police matter.
There's always stuff
going on around here.
They just found a body in
Tower Hamlet Cemetery
with his face and his
back skinned off.
We might have a match. Let's go.
The body was found this morning
by a lady walking her dog.
His entire back was flayed off but
the skin wasn't found at the scene.
It's possible the killer
took it with him.
It could be a trophy.
The victim's face was found here
at the Temple Row Gallery.
The artist, Sebastian Marlowe,
specialises in what he calls
modern ecorche.
Ecorche is French for flayed.
It basically means depicting human
anatomy with the skin removed.
Are we bringing him in?
He's in Europe, apparently.
We're speaking to his office.
And we're sending uniforms
round to other galleries in
the area to check for B-and-Es.
Our number one priority
is to identify the victim.
He had a set of very distinctive
tattoos which should make
him memorable.
Does anyone have any erm...
any contacts in this field?
Tattoo parlours, body piercing?
Oh, come one! One of you must have?
The only holes in my body
are the ones God gave me.
We all know which one
you talk out of.
I'll take it. Good.
Get the SOCOs to give you
a full set of photos.
I want you to go over every inch
of this man's body.
Yes, sir.
The rest of you hit the mug books.
I want a name!
Sarge, did we get
the victim's prints at all?
No, they were all sliced off too.
What've you got for me?
I was just looking at this.
'The Flaying of Marsyas by Titian.
Marsyas was a satyr -
half man, half goat.
He was skinned alive for daring to
challenge Apollo to a musical duel.
It was on loan at the National
Gallery a few years ago but
Mother wasn't keen.
How does this help us?
Well, your body was found
in an art gallery, was it not?
The killer could be recreating
scenes from all the Grand Masters.
Ed, I just need the information,
not the conjecture.
Of course. Historically flaying was
a means of punishment or torture.
A number of Chinese emperors
of the Ming Dynasty
liked to cut the flesh
from their enemies' faces.
In fact Lingchi,
the so-called death of 1,000 cuts,
wasn't abolished in China
as a form of execution until 1905.
What did they do with the skin?
Depends. The ancient Assyrians
would flay their enemies alive
and then nail the skin
to the city walls.
A warning to others
not to step out of line.
Oh, look, the mould's got in here.
Now, this is ridiculous.
Have you got anything I can
take away with me?
Anything I can study?
We're talking ancient
history here, Joe.
I'm not going to find it in the
Metropolitan Police Archive.
I can't go back upstairs
with paintings by Titian
and stories from Ancient Assyria.
That's not what I pay you for.
You don't pay me, actually.
Joe, one more thing.
The files you asked me to look at
from our rogue MI6 operative,
Mr Wingfield.
It seems there was definitely
method in his madness.
All the historical connections
we made between past and
present killings -
the Ripper, the Krays,
the Radcliffe Highway Murders -
he'd already made them.
He was tracking all our cases?
Yes, or he was one step ahead of us.
I haven't deciphered the whole map
yet but a pattern is emerging.
And you...are slap bang
in the middle of it.
So, come on then. Shag, marry, kill?
Urgh, kill them all.
So, how's it going
with Kent's sister?
Are you still in the
first throws of passion?
For sure. I reckon she could
be the one, you know?
Yeah, well I won't buy
my hat just yet, eh?
So, do you reckon Kent's got
any secret tattoos then?
Definitely. He's probably got
a picture of the boss on his chest.
And a little one
of the Sarge on his buttock.
I heard that!
What's that?
The Flaying of Marsyas.
It's a Titian.
Look, I'm grasping at straws here.
I've got no witnesses, no forensics.
I can't even identify
the bloody victim!
All right, we work
with what we've got.
Something'll shake down,
it always does.
Meanwhile, I've got Sebastian
Marlowe's assistant upstairs.
Oh, good. What's her name?
Abigail Perkins. She's in room six.
I'll order some tea and biccies and
I'll see you up there in a minute.
Miles...
I'm not being funny but I think
I should speak to her alone.
Why? I know what your attitude
to modern art is likely to be
and I don't want her clamming up
if she senses any erm...
Any what?
You know, hostility.
Well, what makes you... We've
got no leads. This is important.
Fine.
Get on with your work!
For me it's full of meanings.
You see, my great grandfather -
Sorry, darling,
I'm just in the middle of a claw.
And if I balls this up... Spud!
Oh, no. I'm not looking
to have any work done.
I'm looking for information.
What sort of information?
I'm trying to identify this man.
That's a mask, isn't it?
Have you tried the joke shop, love?
No, it's a man's face. The flesh
has been cut from his body.
Oh, for goodness sake.
He has distinct tats
on his hands and his chest.
Do you recognise any of these?
Vory v zakone.
Sorry?
These tattoos are vory v zakone.
It's the name for Russian mafia.
(DOOR OPENS)
Miss Perkins, I'm DI Chandler,
thanks for coming in.
Please take a seat.
Mr Marlowe is in Spain at
the moment. Is that correct?
Yes. He's curating a new show
at the Guggenheim.
This isn't very pleasant,
I'm afraid but...
..do you recognise this face
at all?
No.
Somebody went to great lengths
to place this in Mr Marlowe's
exhibition.
Why do you think that might be?
I don't know.
Maybe it was a fan?
Mr Marlowe's fans
can get quite obsessive.
I believe he uses real cadavers
in his exhibitions?
Mm. Sometimes.
Who flays them?
He does.
With your help?
No. I'm too squeamish.
Then why work for him?
Because I admire his art.
Some people wouldn't call it art.
Some people only look skin deep.
I'll have Mr Marlowe's publicist
contact you.
Miss Perkins,
this is a murder inquiry.
It isn't an interview
for a Sunday supplement magazine.
Mr Marlowe doesn't do interviews.
He'd rather let his
art speak for itself.
Nevertheless, I will need
to talk to him.
I need to establish if there is
a link between the victim
and his exhibition.
But you don't know who the
victim is, do you, Inspector?
Not at the moment, no.
Then I'm afraid I can't help you.
And nor can Mr Marlowe.
In Russian prison, if you do not
have tattoos, you do not exist.
They are like passports,
they tell you everything.
What was your crime,
how many years you serve.
If you know how to read
the tattoos, you know the person.
So, can you tell me
what any of these mean?
See the church? Three towers
means three times in jail.
And here, the spider in the cobweb,
that means for drugs.
Is this a mafia thing?
It's vory v zakone.
Can you write that down?
Sure.
In translation it means
thieves in law.
The Vors used to rule
Russian prisons
but it was long time ago
in Soviet times.
The first rule of the Vors is to
not cooperate with any authorities.
I would not be a good Vor.
Thank you, you've been very helpful.
Katje.
Where in Russia are you from? I'm
not from Russia, I'm from Poland.
I read all that on the internet.
Here's my number.
Oh, I can just find out the rest
online myself.
It's for you. I would like
if you call me.
Right, OK. Erm, I will...ring you.
Thank you.
I'd give it a moment
if I was you, sir.
That Japanese food
didn't really agree with me.
Mansell, I'd like you to do some
digging on Sebastian Marlowe for me.
There's hardly any information on
him in the public domain.
Will you find out why?
I think Sgt Miles is - And check out
his assistant too, Abigail Perkins.
She's either covering for
him or hiding something.
I want to know which. Yes, sir.
(PIPES GROAN DEEPLY)
Gently, gently...
that's it.
Oh, hi. We're just giving
our poor man his face back.
There's a small amount of shrinkage
but otherwise it's a perfect fit.
It's like putting jelly
back in a mould.
What can I do for you?
I wanted to have a closer look
at his finger tattoos.
OK, be my guest. I did send you
some photos through.
Yeah, well, I just needed to
check them in the flesh.
Things can be missed if you
don't know what you're looking for.
Right, you see this one shows that
he did time in Kresty prison
in St Petersburg.
The skull means he was
probably in for murder.
Do you have a magnifying glass?
That's impressive. It's like having
your CV printed on your body.
Ah, you see. That's an eight.
It looks like a six in your photos.
1968, gives me his year of birth.
I did estimate mid-40s.
But then people aren't like trees,
you can't just cut them in half
and count the rings...
Yeah, you're welcome.
Was that you?
What?
You don't scare me.
What you doing?
Waiting for a phone call from
Russia.
You ID'd the vic yet?
Maybe.
What are you doing here?
Just had a cheeky fish supper
with Erica.
She sends her love, by the way.
What a girl.
(PHONE RINGS)
DC Mansell.
Yeah. Who is this?
What are you doing?
That could've been for me.
I keep getting these prank calls.
This is an incident room. People
phone up with vital information...
Calm down, grandma!
How can you be so uptight
when your twin sister's so...
So what?
Relaxed.
(PHONE RINGS)
Hello.
Yeah, one second.
Yeah, I've got it.
Thank you for your help.
Bingo.
Thanks to Kent, we finally have
a name for our victim.
Nikolay Baldaev,
born 13th of May 1968,
Moreno, Russia.
From reading his tats... Tats!
we know he's been incarcerated...
three times, most recently
for knifing a rival gang member
but he was paroled from
Kresty prison two years ago.
Why'd they let him go?
Well, this goat, it symbolises
a snitch or an informant.
It was probably applied forcibly
against his will.
My guess is that he cooperated
with the authorities
to secure an early release.
But I'm still waiting for the file.
Good work. The Russians are known
to have been stepping up
their organised crime activities in
London and there have been several
suspected hits carried out
in the past five years.
What makes you think it's a hit?
It was a clean job, well organised.
The victim's prints were skinned
off to avoid identification.
If they were so keen
to avoid identification,
then why go to the trouble of
displaying his face at the gallery?
It don't make sense.
The Vors take their tattoos
extremely seriously.
If you have a tattoo in prison
that you haven't earned
then it gets cut off with a razor.
It does make sense... Sarge.
It also conforms with the historical
precedent of flaying as punishment.
It's our best line of enquiry.
Mansell, my office.
All right, let's work up a list
of Baldaev's known associates.
And Meg, get the mug shot round
to local businesses,
see if there's any link to
the Russian extortion gangs.
Yes, skip.
Oi! Where are you going?
Well, it's my report.
Then bring it to me.
I'm still your sergeant, aren't I?
Yes, skip.
Whatever you find
comes to my desk first.
Let's remember our chain of command.
Sorry, skip.
Where are we on Marlowe?
Well, apparently he employs
a team of assistants to make
the artwork for him.
He just does the concepts,
he doesn't get his hands dirty.
In fact, there's rumours that
Marlowe is a erm,
what do you call it? A pseudonym.
Keeps his identity to himself
cos he doesn't like
dealing with the press.
Like the Wizard of Oz.
Look into it and keep me informed.
I should say, sir, a lot of the
information came from Sgt Miles.
What? Miles?
He's got some really good
contacts in the art world.
He investigated the Momart fire
ten years ago.
He became really good friends
with some of the artists.
A lot of them have got studios
in Whitechapel.
You weren't to know, sir.
Everything all right?
Yeah, fine. It's just this stupid
hand's still giving me jip.
Do you want to get it looked at?
No, it's just a scratch.
Fresh air would do you good
cos proper policing happens
on the street.
Eyeball to eyeball with the public
but you know that, don't you?
Of course.
Hey, you would tell me...
I'm all right, Ray, honestly.
Don't go all touchy-feely on me.
You're freaking me out.
I'll see you later.
(APPROACHING FOOTSTEPS)
Miles?
I'd like you to go back
to the gallery and interview
Abigail Perkins.
I think you might get more out
of her than I did. All right.
Listen, I'm sorry if I -
Oh, forget it.
It does us good to have a little
barney every now and again.
It stops us turning into
crime solving robots. No offence.
None taken.
(DOOR BLEEPS)
Erm, do you recognise this man?
No, I don't no him.
Are you sure? A lot of the other
traders have already ID'd him
and they say he comes
round here regularly.
No.
Well, could you show it to your
co-workers or family members please.
It's very important.
Sabina!
Yes, Aba?
(SPEAKS BENGALI)
Hi. Do you recognise this man?
No, sorry. Don't recognise him.
No? All right.
Well, if you do think of anything
can you call me on this number?
What happened to him? Is he dead?
I can't tell you that, love.
But if you do know anything
you ought to come forward, OK?
Thank you for your time.
(ARGUING IN BENGALI)
Is that a real hand?
Yes. It's been plastinated
and preserved.
Not that squeamish, then?
You get used to it.
It's a birth mark. Port wine stain.
Nothing I can do about it.
Does it hurt?
Depends what you mean by hurt?
It's not painful.
How long have you worked
with Marlowe?
Are you interrogating me?
No, no. Just a friendly chat.
Five years. He gets me.
A lot of people don't.
Strange thing.
No-one in the art world had heard
of Sebastian Marlowe five years ago.
Nobody had heard of Vincent
Van Gogh until after he died.
Sometimes that's just
how it works out.
True. We're not all appreciated
in our own lifetime.
(PHONE RINGS)
Excuse me.
I've been looking all over for you.
Where's Buchan?
I'm not sure. I thought he would
have turned up something
useful by now.
That'll be the day.
Anyway, good news.
SOCOs took a print from that card
you found at the gallery.
You know, the one with
the different font?
Did we get a match?
Eventually.
A mechanic works out in Dalston.
He reported his car stolen
four years ago,
so his prints are still
on the database.
Is he Russian by any chance?
Harry Barnett.
(INDISTINCT TALKING)
Ed?
Meg! What are you doing here?
Just on my rounds.
Let me go and see what I can find.
Oh, thanks, Oliver.
Oh, you checking on your book sales?
You on the bestsellers list yet?
No, no, I'm just doing
a little cribbing.
Some things can't be found
in the archive.
For instance, have you ever been
to the Sistine Chapel in Rome?
(SCOFFS) Hardly. A wet weekend in
Abersoch was our last holiday
and that was three years ago.
My husband's not much
of a traveller.
You should try, it's absolutely
breathtaking. Or so I've been told.
Look, this is Saint Bartholomew
holding his own flayed skin.
Part of The Last Judgement.
Hmm, nice.
It's believed Michelangelo painted
this as a self-portrait.
The artist as a tortured genius.
Oh, a bit like yourself then?
No. I just want to help.
Joe took a huge risk bringing me in.
He faced ridicule, I know that
but he believed in me.
I just wish I could repay
that trust.
Oh, you are doing. Who else is
going to come up with all this
Da Vinci Code stuff? Not me.
The only Michelangelo I know
is a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle.
But everybody knows I made mistakes.
Because of me, those girls died -
That wasn't your fault.
Look at me.
Look at me.
That was not your fault.
We're a team, we support each other.
We all bear the weight.
Thank you.
Ed! What -
These are the Flemish painters
you...you wanted.
Would you like to look through
them now - I'm gonna have to go.
I'll see you later.
Erm...thank you.
Sidney Walden?
Yeah?
DI Chandler and this is DS Miles,
Whitechapel Police.
We're trying to locate...
Is there somewhere we can talk?
Yeah.
Ah, thank you, darling. Why don't
you take the rest of the day off?
Go on, treat yourself.
It's all right, Amy's my wife.
What can I do for you, gents?
We're trying to locate Harry
Barnett. Does he still work here?
Harry? No, not for going on
three years now.
Did he leave a forwarding address?
Yeah, I have it here somewhere.
What's he supposed to have done?
We're not at liberty to say.
Why did he leave?
Can't remember now.
They don't have to give a reason,
long as they don't just disappear.
Here we go.
Any money worries? Women?
What, me or him?
No, he was the quiet type, Harry.
Liked a bit of a booze every now
and then but then again who doesn't?
When his wife left him he moved back
in with his old dear.
He always was a bit
of a mummy's boy.
I hope he's not in any trouble.
Thank you. You've been very helpful.
Cheers.
Do you want me to call for an ARV?
No, we don't want to alarm anyone.
What, round here?
No-one'll bat an eyelid.
It's up here.
Oh, Jesus!
Shh, quiet!
I'd say it's a bit late for that.
It's coming from in there.
He's still warm!
It's the electric blanket.
BOTH: Argh!
(COUGH AND SPLUTTER)
(SIRENS)
Peppermint tea. Thank you.
Settle your stomach.
Well, the neighbour upstairs,
he thought he smelt something off
but he didn't report it.
He's sub-let it for a friend,
didn't want any agro. And the flat
next door is empty. Repossession.
Well, that's pretty biblical.
Yeah, sorry about that.
What are the basic facts?
Time of death is
going to be difficult
cos he's been lying
on an electric blanket,
so putrefaction sets in
a lot more quickly.
Yeah, we noticed.
I'll spare you the gory details
but right now
I'd estimate eight to ten days.
Same MO as Baldaev?
It looks like it.
Skin's been removed from the face,
the torso, the fingertips.
But with the heat and the maggots...
Sorry. I can't say for sure
if it's the same perpetrator
but please, God, it is.
Yeah, we don't need two of these
maniacs on the loose, do we?
So, he flayed Harry Barnett,
took his skin
and then planted one of
his fingerprints at the
second crime scene.
Maybe he was frustrated that we took
so long to find Barnett
and wanted to lead us here?
He must want the
crimes acknowledged.
The publicity, the headlines.
But what does he want
with their skins?
So, you kissed him?
No, you muppet. He kissed me.
(LAUGHS)
On the lips?
Oh, don't! Why is this always
happening to me?
You show a man a bit of
maternal affection
and he's all over you
like a cheap suit.
You know why, he wants a bit of
the old... (SUCKS TIP OF THUMB)
..Riley boob.
Come on! Break it up, loads to do.
Stop it!
Right, Harry Barnett was killed
at least a week ago
by the same method as
Nikolay Baldaev.
Now, given that Barnett seems
to have no affiliation
with Russian gangs,
we're no longer prioritising
that line of enquiry.
But we are still looking for
links between Nikolay Baldaev
and Harry Barnett.
Why did Barnett leave his job?
Who arranged the release
of Baldaev from prison and why?
The killer's highly intelligent
and organised.
We need to find something he's
missed. What's with the writing?
This was found on Barnett's
bathroom mirror.
It's the same sequence of letters
that we found at the gallery.
So, it obviously has some kind
of meaning to the killer.
I'll have a crack at it.
I like a riddle.
A Jimmy Riddle.
Right, you've all got a job to do.
And if you haven't,
come and see me
and I'll give you one.
Stop that!
Amy?
Ames?
Miles, the flick knife
we found at the cemetery,
it definitely belonged to Baldaev?
Well, it had his palm prints on it.
But it wasn't the murder weapon?
Llewellyn ruled it out. Why?
I want to see all the evidence
we collected from the cemetery.
What, all of it?
Yeah.
You heard him!
Amy?
Oh, sorry darling.
It's just that I had a bit
of a crap day, that's all.
You remember Harry?
Well, someone murdered him.
Cut his face off like Red Indians.
Poor sod.
(PHONE RINGS)
Hello, Riley's phone.
Hello, Riley's phone.
(MOUTHS) Who is it?
It's just a crank call.
That was the police at work.
Asking questions.
I didn't tell 'em nothing.
What's done is done.
It's gonna be all right, Amy.
Ames?
It's gonna be all right.
He could win the Turner Prize
with this. (CHUCKLES)
So, the knife was found?
Close to the body. About two metres.
So, maybe he saw his attacker
coming and then armed himself?
What was nearest to the knife?
Erm, test tube, seven metres.
Used condom, 15 metres.
It's a different DNA.
Any drug paraphernalia?
Bent spoons?
Erm...beer cans. Sweet wrapper.
What about the shoe?
That was 120 metres away.
And the other one?
The other one was 70 metres away.
Apart from the mud they look new.
There's barely a scratch on them.
Would they be expensive?
What make are they?
Oh, not much change from a oner.
Who leaves a pair of brand new,
hundred pound shoes in the
middle of a cemetery?
She was either very pissed
or very frightened.
The distance between them suggests
she could have been
running away from someone.
Or something.
There's blood on the inside.
It must have been rubbing her heel.
Get it down to the lab.
See if we can get a DNA sample.
We might have a witness.
It's just like Cinderella!
Sarge, we've got
a missing person alert.
The workshop owner, Sid Walden.
His wife came home late,
said his car and his keys
were there but he wasn't.
Come on, let's go.
Clear this mess up will you, son.
(MUFFLED SHOUTING)
Feelings for you.
Any...
Erm, what are you doing?
Doing a bit of match-making.
That's Riley's email.
Yeah, I know.
I'm sending a message to Buchan.
She is asking him out
on a date tomorrow night.
You can't do that!
All internal emails are logged.
If I'd wanted someone
to piss all over the idea,
I'd have asked you first.
It's just a joke, right?
You shouldn't toy with someone's
emotions like that.
People have feelings you know.
Right, according to Harry Barnett's
phone records,
the last person to call him this
afternoon was Sid Walden.
Tipping him off, I suppose.
Well, that makes Walden
less of a suspect.
Why would he call Barnett if he knew
he was already dead? Good point.
All units. Suspected abduction
at the corner of Malcolm Place.
Female suspect spotted dragging
a body into a disused factory.
That's just the other side
of the station.
♪ DAVID WHITFIELD: Mama
(MUFFLED SCREAMING)
(MUFFLED SCREAMING CONTINUES)
♪ All that I'm trying to tell you.
♪ All that my heart wants to say.
♪ Nearest and dearest,
my darling one... ♪
The lady says she saw someone
dragging a body from the
van into the factory.
We're doing a PNC check
on the registration.
This is DS Miles requesting
urgent back up.
We can't wait.
It's Braintree Street,
corner of Malcolm Close.
(MUFFLED SCREAMS / MUSIC CONTINUES)
(MUFFLED SCREAM)
(HEAVY BREATHING)
(MUFFLED SCREAM)
(GROANING AND STRUGGLING)
(JANGLING)
(CHAINSAW IN THE DISTANCE)
Police! Drop the weapon!
(CHAINSAW STOPS)
Put the weapon down!
It's not a weapon.
Boss. False alarm.
It's for an art installation.
Opens next month.
What? Well, where's Marlowe?
You're looking at him.
She is Sebastian Marlowe,
aren't you?
Aren't you!?
You?
Book her. For wasting police time.
Don't worry. I'll talk him down.
I'm sorry. Can you keep
my name out of the papers?
I'll try. But maybe it's time for you
to step out from Marlowe's shadow.
Show the world
who Abigail Perkins is.
You're a bright girl.
Don't hide your light.
(SHOUTS)
He's got no face
and no fingerprints.
Is there any other part
of his skin that's missing?
Yeah, big strip down his back.
Anatomical texts, law books.
Even volumes of erotic poetry.
A book of human skin.
These are not Sabina's shoes.
He killed my mum!
Maybe we should rearrange?
Rearrange what?
Our liaison dangereux.
Gein removed their faces
and wore them as masks.
Just like our killer.
Do not be overcome by evil
but overcome evil with good.
Oh, dear God.
Woooah!
(FOOTSTEPS)
Happy Birthday, Joe.
(CHUCKLES) It's not much but...
It's a hagstone.
It's to protect the wearer against
witchcraft and evil charms.
Thought it might bring
a smile to your face.
Obviously not.
It's very thoughtful, Ed,
thank you.
That's it, Eddie, look, look, look!
It's two hands
but it's the only way...
Sorry, sir.
(CHATTER AND LAUGHTER)
(SHOUTING AND SCREAMING)
(CHEERING)
(SINGING)
You're pulling my ear out.
Ah, it's these shoes.
They're killing me.
Come on, Sabine, I'm busting.
You go then. I'm gonna cut through.
My feet are killing me.
Text me when you get in, yeah? Yeah.
Right, come on then, Marlowe,
chuck a bit this way.
Off we go!
Oh, here we go!
(CHEERING)
(PANTING)
(PANTING CONTINUES)
(PHONE RINGS)
Where is your daddy now, little girl?
(STRUGGLES)
(DOOR SLAMS)
Who's there?
(DISTANT SCREAMING)
(SCREAMS)
The clear one's here.
Good. Cover this area.
It is definitely human?
I'm afraid so. Male.
40 to 50 years old.
The fasciculation
around the lips would suggest
that a liquid anaesthetic
was applied. Probably chloroform.
Could it be surgical?
Doubtful. I've done this
procedure myself hundreds of times.
When you know what you're doing
it's just like peeling a satsuma.
But this was done in haste
and with a certain amount of force.
The facial arteries have spurted,
which tells us he was alive when
the flaying took place.
Jesus!
Time of death?
Between 8-24 hours.
I'd normally do a rectal
temperature but... No rectum.
Mm. That's all there
is to say, really.
Unless he's on the database,
he's gonna be a bugger to ID.
What about the tattoos?
They look pretty specific.
They're not recent.
They're at least a decade old.
Well, we'll go through the mug books.
Some things are better done
the old fashioned way.
The title card's in a different
font to all the others.
Different font?
It doesn't even make sense.
It's not part of the exhibition.
Someone's put it there for a reason.
What do you think it means?
Get it checked for prints.
Well, someone's forgotten
their pleases and thank-yous.
He's under a lot of pressure.
(PHONE RINGS) Thanks.
Hello.
(LOW LEVEL CHATTER)
Excuse me? What's going on?
The gallery's closed.
Why? What's happening?
It's a police matter.
There's always stuff
going on around here.
They just found a body in
Tower Hamlet Cemetery
with his face and his
back skinned off.
We might have a match. Let's go.
The body was found this morning
by a lady walking her dog.
His entire back was flayed off but
the skin wasn't found at the scene.
It's possible the killer
took it with him.
It could be a trophy.
The victim's face was found here
at the Temple Row Gallery.
The artist, Sebastian Marlowe,
specialises in what he calls
modern ecorche.
Ecorche is French for flayed.
It basically means depicting human
anatomy with the skin removed.
Are we bringing him in?
He's in Europe, apparently.
We're speaking to his office.
And we're sending uniforms
round to other galleries in
the area to check for B-and-Es.
Our number one priority
is to identify the victim.
He had a set of very distinctive
tattoos which should make
him memorable.
Does anyone have any erm...
any contacts in this field?
Tattoo parlours, body piercing?
Oh, come one! One of you must have?
The only holes in my body
are the ones God gave me.
We all know which one
you talk out of.
I'll take it. Good.
Get the SOCOs to give you
a full set of photos.
I want you to go over every inch
of this man's body.
Yes, sir.
The rest of you hit the mug books.
I want a name!
Sarge, did we get
the victim's prints at all?
No, they were all sliced off too.
What've you got for me?
I was just looking at this.
'The Flaying of Marsyas by Titian.
Marsyas was a satyr -
half man, half goat.
He was skinned alive for daring to
challenge Apollo to a musical duel.
It was on loan at the National
Gallery a few years ago but
Mother wasn't keen.
How does this help us?
Well, your body was found
in an art gallery, was it not?
The killer could be recreating
scenes from all the Grand Masters.
Ed, I just need the information,
not the conjecture.
Of course. Historically flaying was
a means of punishment or torture.
A number of Chinese emperors
of the Ming Dynasty
liked to cut the flesh
from their enemies' faces.
In fact Lingchi,
the so-called death of 1,000 cuts,
wasn't abolished in China
as a form of execution until 1905.
What did they do with the skin?
Depends. The ancient Assyrians
would flay their enemies alive
and then nail the skin
to the city walls.
A warning to others
not to step out of line.
Oh, look, the mould's got in here.
Now, this is ridiculous.
Have you got anything I can
take away with me?
Anything I can study?
We're talking ancient
history here, Joe.
I'm not going to find it in the
Metropolitan Police Archive.
I can't go back upstairs
with paintings by Titian
and stories from Ancient Assyria.
That's not what I pay you for.
You don't pay me, actually.
Joe, one more thing.
The files you asked me to look at
from our rogue MI6 operative,
Mr Wingfield.
It seems there was definitely
method in his madness.
All the historical connections
we made between past and
present killings -
the Ripper, the Krays,
the Radcliffe Highway Murders -
he'd already made them.
He was tracking all our cases?
Yes, or he was one step ahead of us.
I haven't deciphered the whole map
yet but a pattern is emerging.
And you...are slap bang
in the middle of it.
So, come on then. Shag, marry, kill?
Urgh, kill them all.
So, how's it going
with Kent's sister?
Are you still in the
first throws of passion?
For sure. I reckon she could
be the one, you know?
Yeah, well I won't buy
my hat just yet, eh?
So, do you reckon Kent's got
any secret tattoos then?
Definitely. He's probably got
a picture of the boss on his chest.
And a little one
of the Sarge on his buttock.
I heard that!
What's that?
The Flaying of Marsyas.
It's a Titian.
Look, I'm grasping at straws here.
I've got no witnesses, no forensics.
I can't even identify
the bloody victim!
All right, we work
with what we've got.
Something'll shake down,
it always does.
Meanwhile, I've got Sebastian
Marlowe's assistant upstairs.
Oh, good. What's her name?
Abigail Perkins. She's in room six.
I'll order some tea and biccies and
I'll see you up there in a minute.
Miles...
I'm not being funny but I think
I should speak to her alone.
Why? I know what your attitude
to modern art is likely to be
and I don't want her clamming up
if she senses any erm...
Any what?
You know, hostility.
Well, what makes you... We've
got no leads. This is important.
Fine.
Get on with your work!
For me it's full of meanings.
You see, my great grandfather -
Sorry, darling,
I'm just in the middle of a claw.
And if I balls this up... Spud!
Oh, no. I'm not looking
to have any work done.
I'm looking for information.
What sort of information?
I'm trying to identify this man.
That's a mask, isn't it?
Have you tried the joke shop, love?
No, it's a man's face. The flesh
has been cut from his body.
Oh, for goodness sake.
He has distinct tats
on his hands and his chest.
Do you recognise any of these?
Vory v zakone.
Sorry?
These tattoos are vory v zakone.
It's the name for Russian mafia.
(DOOR OPENS)
Miss Perkins, I'm DI Chandler,
thanks for coming in.
Please take a seat.
Mr Marlowe is in Spain at
the moment. Is that correct?
Yes. He's curating a new show
at the Guggenheim.
This isn't very pleasant,
I'm afraid but...
..do you recognise this face
at all?
No.
Somebody went to great lengths
to place this in Mr Marlowe's
exhibition.
Why do you think that might be?
I don't know.
Maybe it was a fan?
Mr Marlowe's fans
can get quite obsessive.
I believe he uses real cadavers
in his exhibitions?
Mm. Sometimes.
Who flays them?
He does.
With your help?
No. I'm too squeamish.
Then why work for him?
Because I admire his art.
Some people wouldn't call it art.
Some people only look skin deep.
I'll have Mr Marlowe's publicist
contact you.
Miss Perkins,
this is a murder inquiry.
It isn't an interview
for a Sunday supplement magazine.
Mr Marlowe doesn't do interviews.
He'd rather let his
art speak for itself.
Nevertheless, I will need
to talk to him.
I need to establish if there is
a link between the victim
and his exhibition.
But you don't know who the
victim is, do you, Inspector?
Not at the moment, no.
Then I'm afraid I can't help you.
And nor can Mr Marlowe.
In Russian prison, if you do not
have tattoos, you do not exist.
They are like passports,
they tell you everything.
What was your crime,
how many years you serve.
If you know how to read
the tattoos, you know the person.
So, can you tell me
what any of these mean?
See the church? Three towers
means three times in jail.
And here, the spider in the cobweb,
that means for drugs.
Is this a mafia thing?
It's vory v zakone.
Can you write that down?
Sure.
In translation it means
thieves in law.
The Vors used to rule
Russian prisons
but it was long time ago
in Soviet times.
The first rule of the Vors is to
not cooperate with any authorities.
I would not be a good Vor.
Thank you, you've been very helpful.
Katje.
Where in Russia are you from? I'm
not from Russia, I'm from Poland.
I read all that on the internet.
Here's my number.
Oh, I can just find out the rest
online myself.
It's for you. I would like
if you call me.
Right, OK. Erm, I will...ring you.
Thank you.
I'd give it a moment
if I was you, sir.
That Japanese food
didn't really agree with me.
Mansell, I'd like you to do some
digging on Sebastian Marlowe for me.
There's hardly any information on
him in the public domain.
Will you find out why?
I think Sgt Miles is - And check out
his assistant too, Abigail Perkins.
She's either covering for
him or hiding something.
I want to know which. Yes, sir.
(PIPES GROAN DEEPLY)
Gently, gently...
that's it.
Oh, hi. We're just giving
our poor man his face back.
There's a small amount of shrinkage
but otherwise it's a perfect fit.
It's like putting jelly
back in a mould.
What can I do for you?
I wanted to have a closer look
at his finger tattoos.
OK, be my guest. I did send you
some photos through.
Yeah, well, I just needed to
check them in the flesh.
Things can be missed if you
don't know what you're looking for.
Right, you see this one shows that
he did time in Kresty prison
in St Petersburg.
The skull means he was
probably in for murder.
Do you have a magnifying glass?
That's impressive. It's like having
your CV printed on your body.
Ah, you see. That's an eight.
It looks like a six in your photos.
1968, gives me his year of birth.
I did estimate mid-40s.
But then people aren't like trees,
you can't just cut them in half
and count the rings...
Yeah, you're welcome.
Was that you?
What?
You don't scare me.
What you doing?
Waiting for a phone call from
Russia.
You ID'd the vic yet?
Maybe.
What are you doing here?
Just had a cheeky fish supper
with Erica.
She sends her love, by the way.
What a girl.
(PHONE RINGS)
DC Mansell.
Yeah. Who is this?
What are you doing?
That could've been for me.
I keep getting these prank calls.
This is an incident room. People
phone up with vital information...
Calm down, grandma!
How can you be so uptight
when your twin sister's so...
So what?
Relaxed.
(PHONE RINGS)
Hello.
Yeah, one second.
Yeah, I've got it.
Thank you for your help.
Bingo.
Thanks to Kent, we finally have
a name for our victim.
Nikolay Baldaev,
born 13th of May 1968,
Moreno, Russia.
From reading his tats... Tats!
we know he's been incarcerated...
three times, most recently
for knifing a rival gang member
but he was paroled from
Kresty prison two years ago.
Why'd they let him go?
Well, this goat, it symbolises
a snitch or an informant.
It was probably applied forcibly
against his will.
My guess is that he cooperated
with the authorities
to secure an early release.
But I'm still waiting for the file.
Good work. The Russians are known
to have been stepping up
their organised crime activities in
London and there have been several
suspected hits carried out
in the past five years.
What makes you think it's a hit?
It was a clean job, well organised.
The victim's prints were skinned
off to avoid identification.
If they were so keen
to avoid identification,
then why go to the trouble of
displaying his face at the gallery?
It don't make sense.
The Vors take their tattoos
extremely seriously.
If you have a tattoo in prison
that you haven't earned
then it gets cut off with a razor.
It does make sense... Sarge.
It also conforms with the historical
precedent of flaying as punishment.
It's our best line of enquiry.
Mansell, my office.
All right, let's work up a list
of Baldaev's known associates.
And Meg, get the mug shot round
to local businesses,
see if there's any link to
the Russian extortion gangs.
Yes, skip.
Oi! Where are you going?
Well, it's my report.
Then bring it to me.
I'm still your sergeant, aren't I?
Yes, skip.
Whatever you find
comes to my desk first.
Let's remember our chain of command.
Sorry, skip.
Where are we on Marlowe?
Well, apparently he employs
a team of assistants to make
the artwork for him.
He just does the concepts,
he doesn't get his hands dirty.
In fact, there's rumours that
Marlowe is a erm,
what do you call it? A pseudonym.
Keeps his identity to himself
cos he doesn't like
dealing with the press.
Like the Wizard of Oz.
Look into it and keep me informed.
I should say, sir, a lot of the
information came from Sgt Miles.
What? Miles?
He's got some really good
contacts in the art world.
He investigated the Momart fire
ten years ago.
He became really good friends
with some of the artists.
A lot of them have got studios
in Whitechapel.
You weren't to know, sir.
Everything all right?
Yeah, fine. It's just this stupid
hand's still giving me jip.
Do you want to get it looked at?
No, it's just a scratch.
Fresh air would do you good
cos proper policing happens
on the street.
Eyeball to eyeball with the public
but you know that, don't you?
Of course.
Hey, you would tell me...
I'm all right, Ray, honestly.
Don't go all touchy-feely on me.
You're freaking me out.
I'll see you later.
(APPROACHING FOOTSTEPS)
Miles?
I'd like you to go back
to the gallery and interview
Abigail Perkins.
I think you might get more out
of her than I did. All right.
Listen, I'm sorry if I -
Oh, forget it.
It does us good to have a little
barney every now and again.
It stops us turning into
crime solving robots. No offence.
None taken.
(DOOR BLEEPS)
Erm, do you recognise this man?
No, I don't no him.
Are you sure? A lot of the other
traders have already ID'd him
and they say he comes
round here regularly.
No.
Well, could you show it to your
co-workers or family members please.
It's very important.
Sabina!
Yes, Aba?
(SPEAKS BENGALI)
Hi. Do you recognise this man?
No, sorry. Don't recognise him.
No? All right.
Well, if you do think of anything
can you call me on this number?
What happened to him? Is he dead?
I can't tell you that, love.
But if you do know anything
you ought to come forward, OK?
Thank you for your time.
(ARGUING IN BENGALI)
Is that a real hand?
Yes. It's been plastinated
and preserved.
Not that squeamish, then?
You get used to it.
It's a birth mark. Port wine stain.
Nothing I can do about it.
Does it hurt?
Depends what you mean by hurt?
It's not painful.
How long have you worked
with Marlowe?
Are you interrogating me?
No, no. Just a friendly chat.
Five years. He gets me.
A lot of people don't.
Strange thing.
No-one in the art world had heard
of Sebastian Marlowe five years ago.
Nobody had heard of Vincent
Van Gogh until after he died.
Sometimes that's just
how it works out.
True. We're not all appreciated
in our own lifetime.
(PHONE RINGS)
Excuse me.
I've been looking all over for you.
Where's Buchan?
I'm not sure. I thought he would
have turned up something
useful by now.
That'll be the day.
Anyway, good news.
SOCOs took a print from that card
you found at the gallery.
You know, the one with
the different font?
Did we get a match?
Eventually.
A mechanic works out in Dalston.
He reported his car stolen
four years ago,
so his prints are still
on the database.
Is he Russian by any chance?
Harry Barnett.
(INDISTINCT TALKING)
Ed?
Meg! What are you doing here?
Just on my rounds.
Let me go and see what I can find.
Oh, thanks, Oliver.
Oh, you checking on your book sales?
You on the bestsellers list yet?
No, no, I'm just doing
a little cribbing.
Some things can't be found
in the archive.
For instance, have you ever been
to the Sistine Chapel in Rome?
(SCOFFS) Hardly. A wet weekend in
Abersoch was our last holiday
and that was three years ago.
My husband's not much
of a traveller.
You should try, it's absolutely
breathtaking. Or so I've been told.
Look, this is Saint Bartholomew
holding his own flayed skin.
Part of The Last Judgement.
Hmm, nice.
It's believed Michelangelo painted
this as a self-portrait.
The artist as a tortured genius.
Oh, a bit like yourself then?
No. I just want to help.
Joe took a huge risk bringing me in.
He faced ridicule, I know that
but he believed in me.
I just wish I could repay
that trust.
Oh, you are doing. Who else is
going to come up with all this
Da Vinci Code stuff? Not me.
The only Michelangelo I know
is a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle.
But everybody knows I made mistakes.
Because of me, those girls died -
That wasn't your fault.
Look at me.
Look at me.
That was not your fault.
We're a team, we support each other.
We all bear the weight.
Thank you.
Ed! What -
These are the Flemish painters
you...you wanted.
Would you like to look through
them now - I'm gonna have to go.
I'll see you later.
Erm...thank you.
Sidney Walden?
Yeah?
DI Chandler and this is DS Miles,
Whitechapel Police.
We're trying to locate...
Is there somewhere we can talk?
Yeah.
Ah, thank you, darling. Why don't
you take the rest of the day off?
Go on, treat yourself.
It's all right, Amy's my wife.
What can I do for you, gents?
We're trying to locate Harry
Barnett. Does he still work here?
Harry? No, not for going on
three years now.
Did he leave a forwarding address?
Yeah, I have it here somewhere.
What's he supposed to have done?
We're not at liberty to say.
Why did he leave?
Can't remember now.
They don't have to give a reason,
long as they don't just disappear.
Here we go.
Any money worries? Women?
What, me or him?
No, he was the quiet type, Harry.
Liked a bit of a booze every now
and then but then again who doesn't?
When his wife left him he moved back
in with his old dear.
He always was a bit
of a mummy's boy.
I hope he's not in any trouble.
Thank you. You've been very helpful.
Cheers.
Do you want me to call for an ARV?
No, we don't want to alarm anyone.
What, round here?
No-one'll bat an eyelid.
It's up here.
Oh, Jesus!
Shh, quiet!
I'd say it's a bit late for that.
It's coming from in there.
He's still warm!
It's the electric blanket.
BOTH: Argh!
(COUGH AND SPLUTTER)
(SIRENS)
Peppermint tea. Thank you.
Settle your stomach.
Well, the neighbour upstairs,
he thought he smelt something off
but he didn't report it.
He's sub-let it for a friend,
didn't want any agro. And the flat
next door is empty. Repossession.
Well, that's pretty biblical.
Yeah, sorry about that.
What are the basic facts?
Time of death is
going to be difficult
cos he's been lying
on an electric blanket,
so putrefaction sets in
a lot more quickly.
Yeah, we noticed.
I'll spare you the gory details
but right now
I'd estimate eight to ten days.
Same MO as Baldaev?
It looks like it.
Skin's been removed from the face,
the torso, the fingertips.
But with the heat and the maggots...
Sorry. I can't say for sure
if it's the same perpetrator
but please, God, it is.
Yeah, we don't need two of these
maniacs on the loose, do we?
So, he flayed Harry Barnett,
took his skin
and then planted one of
his fingerprints at the
second crime scene.
Maybe he was frustrated that we took
so long to find Barnett
and wanted to lead us here?
He must want the
crimes acknowledged.
The publicity, the headlines.
But what does he want
with their skins?
So, you kissed him?
No, you muppet. He kissed me.
(LAUGHS)
On the lips?
Oh, don't! Why is this always
happening to me?
You show a man a bit of
maternal affection
and he's all over you
like a cheap suit.
You know why, he wants a bit of
the old... (SUCKS TIP OF THUMB)
..Riley boob.
Come on! Break it up, loads to do.
Stop it!
Right, Harry Barnett was killed
at least a week ago
by the same method as
Nikolay Baldaev.
Now, given that Barnett seems
to have no affiliation
with Russian gangs,
we're no longer prioritising
that line of enquiry.
But we are still looking for
links between Nikolay Baldaev
and Harry Barnett.
Why did Barnett leave his job?
Who arranged the release
of Baldaev from prison and why?
The killer's highly intelligent
and organised.
We need to find something he's
missed. What's with the writing?
This was found on Barnett's
bathroom mirror.
It's the same sequence of letters
that we found at the gallery.
So, it obviously has some kind
of meaning to the killer.
I'll have a crack at it.
I like a riddle.
A Jimmy Riddle.
Right, you've all got a job to do.
And if you haven't,
come and see me
and I'll give you one.
Stop that!
Amy?
Ames?
Miles, the flick knife
we found at the cemetery,
it definitely belonged to Baldaev?
Well, it had his palm prints on it.
But it wasn't the murder weapon?
Llewellyn ruled it out. Why?
I want to see all the evidence
we collected from the cemetery.
What, all of it?
Yeah.
You heard him!
Amy?
Oh, sorry darling.
It's just that I had a bit
of a crap day, that's all.
You remember Harry?
Well, someone murdered him.
Cut his face off like Red Indians.
Poor sod.
(PHONE RINGS)
Hello, Riley's phone.
Hello, Riley's phone.
(MOUTHS) Who is it?
It's just a crank call.
That was the police at work.
Asking questions.
I didn't tell 'em nothing.
What's done is done.
It's gonna be all right, Amy.
Ames?
It's gonna be all right.
He could win the Turner Prize
with this. (CHUCKLES)
So, the knife was found?
Close to the body. About two metres.
So, maybe he saw his attacker
coming and then armed himself?
What was nearest to the knife?
Erm, test tube, seven metres.
Used condom, 15 metres.
It's a different DNA.
Any drug paraphernalia?
Bent spoons?
Erm...beer cans. Sweet wrapper.
What about the shoe?
That was 120 metres away.
And the other one?
The other one was 70 metres away.
Apart from the mud they look new.
There's barely a scratch on them.
Would they be expensive?
What make are they?
Oh, not much change from a oner.
Who leaves a pair of brand new,
hundred pound shoes in the
middle of a cemetery?
She was either very pissed
or very frightened.
The distance between them suggests
she could have been
running away from someone.
Or something.
There's blood on the inside.
It must have been rubbing her heel.
Get it down to the lab.
See if we can get a DNA sample.
We might have a witness.
It's just like Cinderella!
Sarge, we've got
a missing person alert.
The workshop owner, Sid Walden.
His wife came home late,
said his car and his keys
were there but he wasn't.
Come on, let's go.
Clear this mess up will you, son.
(MUFFLED SHOUTING)
Feelings for you.
Any...
Erm, what are you doing?
Doing a bit of match-making.
That's Riley's email.
Yeah, I know.
I'm sending a message to Buchan.
She is asking him out
on a date tomorrow night.
You can't do that!
All internal emails are logged.
If I'd wanted someone
to piss all over the idea,
I'd have asked you first.
It's just a joke, right?
You shouldn't toy with someone's
emotions like that.
People have feelings you know.
Right, according to Harry Barnett's
phone records,
the last person to call him this
afternoon was Sid Walden.
Tipping him off, I suppose.
Well, that makes Walden
less of a suspect.
Why would he call Barnett if he knew
he was already dead? Good point.
All units. Suspected abduction
at the corner of Malcolm Place.
Female suspect spotted dragging
a body into a disused factory.
That's just the other side
of the station.
♪ DAVID WHITFIELD: Mama
(MUFFLED SCREAMING)
(MUFFLED SCREAMING CONTINUES)
♪ All that I'm trying to tell you.
♪ All that my heart wants to say.
♪ Nearest and dearest,
my darling one... ♪
The lady says she saw someone
dragging a body from the
van into the factory.
We're doing a PNC check
on the registration.
This is DS Miles requesting
urgent back up.
We can't wait.
It's Braintree Street,
corner of Malcolm Close.
(MUFFLED SCREAMS / MUSIC CONTINUES)
(MUFFLED SCREAM)
(HEAVY BREATHING)
(MUFFLED SCREAM)
(GROANING AND STRUGGLING)
(JANGLING)
(CHAINSAW IN THE DISTANCE)
Police! Drop the weapon!
(CHAINSAW STOPS)
Put the weapon down!
It's not a weapon.
Boss. False alarm.
It's for an art installation.
Opens next month.
What? Well, where's Marlowe?
You're looking at him.
She is Sebastian Marlowe,
aren't you?
Aren't you!?
You?
Book her. For wasting police time.
Don't worry. I'll talk him down.
I'm sorry. Can you keep
my name out of the papers?
I'll try. But maybe it's time for you
to step out from Marlowe's shadow.
Show the world
who Abigail Perkins is.
You're a bright girl.
Don't hide your light.
(SHOUTS)
He's got no face
and no fingerprints.
Is there any other part
of his skin that's missing?
Yeah, big strip down his back.
Anatomical texts, law books.
Even volumes of erotic poetry.
A book of human skin.
These are not Sabina's shoes.
He killed my mum!
Maybe we should rearrange?
Rearrange what?
Our liaison dangereux.
Gein removed their faces
and wore them as masks.
Just like our killer.
Do not be overcome by evil
but overcome evil with good.
Oh, dear God.