Body of Evidence New Tricks

# It's all right It's OK

# Doesn't really matter if you're old and grey

# It's all right I say it's OK

# Listen to what I say

# It's all right, doing fine

# Doesn't really matter if the sun don't shine

# It's all right I say it's OK

# We're gettin' to the end of the day. #

A couple of weeks ago,

you were moaning that the workload was too heavy without Jack.

We're not saying we don't need someone.

It's just who that someone is.

-What's wrong with Steve?

-Nothing, nothing. He's a nice bloke.

He just needs calming down a bit.

-We didn't get a say in it.

-No, you didn't.

-Well, then.

-Well, then, what?

Finding a replacement for Jack was my decision and mine alone, Brian.

-But it's a new member of the family.

-No, it's a new member of the team.

He's a good detective and that's all that matters.

-Hey!

-Oh, speak of the devil.

-Hello, Steve.

-I hear they found a body?

-Apparently so, yeah.

-But we don't do dead bodies.

-Don't we?

-Not fresh ones.

Who said it was a fresh one, Gerry?

-ALL:

-Morning.

-Settling in all right?

Oh, yeah, I think they're settling in fine, yeah.

Hey, where's my coffee?

-Well, he just shouldn't be here.

-I don't know, he don't look very well.

No, I mean, he's not one of ours. Our bodies are all accounted for. We're very careful.

When someone donates themselves to medical science, they deserve a certain level of respect.

-And this young man?

-He's been dissected by students and he shouldn't have been.

-Why not?

-The paperwork's all wrong.

Sorry, we've been called in to sort out a clerical error?

No, you don't understand. The system says this is Christopher Smith from Haringey.

This is the where we were supposed to send his remains.

You send the bodies back after they've been...?

The ashes. We cremate the bodies and send the ashes back to the family, if there is one.

One reason people donate themselves is there's no-one to come to the funeral or make arrangements.

That's why I take a bit of care with them. Someone should.

-Anyway, Christopher Smith from Haringey?

-Doesn't exist.

Name, the address, the next of kin - all fake.

-And how could that happen?

-I've no idea.

System's all computerised,

so someone would have had to get into the system and create a file for him.

Though how they did that...

You know, if I hadn't checked,

he'd have ended up at the crematorium and then we'd have had no idea who he really was.

So how did the body get in here and who admitted him?

I would have admitted him and, if the paperwork was in order,

I would have put him in the fridge.

-His real name was Martin Longthorn.

-How do we know that?

He was on the Missing Persons register and we've confirmed it with DNA.

You should know that he was one of us.

-What, a copper?

-Yeah. He worked in admin for the Met's specialist crime directorate.

He'd been there for over ten years, barely missed a day's work.

Then, a year ago, he went out for the evening and never came back.

So how long has he been here? And how long has he been dead?

Well, if the files are right, he's been here about a year.

-Yeah, forensics agree.

-So not long after he went missing?

He's still a new body as far as UCOS is concerned. It's a suspicious death, sir. We can't touch it.

Actually, there was nothing suspicious about the death itself.

Catastrophic subarachnoid haemorrhage.

This is Professor Blake, head of undergraduate medical education.

The only positive aspect to all this is that Mr Longthorn has been given an extensive postmortem.

My students have examined all his major organs in detail.

The heart and liver were fine, the lungs showed a little damage,

probably due to childhood asthma,

but the cause of death, beyond any doubt,

was a sudden and catastrophic subarachnoid haemorrhage.

-Brain bleed?

-Most likely caused by a pre-existing aneurysm.

Could have been there for some time. May or may not have been diagnosed.

It wouldn't have made any difference.

Given the location, it was inoperable.

So he just dropped dead?

It would have been sudden, extremely painful,

and nobody could have done anything about it.

So, if he wasn't murdered, why would anyone feel the need to cover up his death

by smuggling the body in here under a false name?

Well, that's what I'd like to know.

Well, it's obviously a special one, sir, unless you're going to come out on all our cases from now on?

Martin Longthorn had a high security clearance.

-I thought you said he worked in admin?

-He did.

However, he had access to information about officers working deep cover assignments.

-You're kidding.

-Obviously there was an awful lot of concern when he went missing originally,

but the Missing Persons team couldn't find anything untoward,

and our own internal investigation

assured us that none of the information that Martin had access to was compromised.

But now he's turned up here, under a false name.

Yeah. And alarm bells are ringing all over again.

So, who reported him missing?

His mum Moira called it in.

He lived with her, but she wasn't the last person to see him alive.

He'd gone out that evening to a pub - The Reliance in Chalk Farm.

Uniforms flashed his picture around,

and they discovered he'd been with a local, Catherine Green.

She said they'd just had a drink together

and then went their separate ways.

Do we have an address for Miss Green?

Yeah, there's a workplace, an FE college library in Holloway.

All right, I'll speak to her. Steve, Gerry, you take the mum.

-How much does she know?

-You'll have to go gently.

What about me?

I'll take you to the funeral directors' entrance.

Obviously, they're usually picking up, not delivering.

-But you do take deliveries?

-Mm.

How does it actually happen, then?

How do you donate your body to medical science?

Well, it's not so much to medical science, actually.

You donate yourself to a medical school.

We have a specific consent form.

-Obviously, you have to fill it in before you pass.

-Well, obviously.

-Why would somebody do that?

-People have lots of reasons.

Like I said, if there's no close family,

but mostly it's because they want to help others after they die.

So, every now and then we get a call,

and then we get a delivery from a funeral director.

By the back door.

Well, it's really not good for patient confidence

to have hearses pulling up alongside ambulances.

It's something you never really think about.

Hospitals are supposed to be about preserving the living, not the dead.

Well, a lot of people end their journeys here.

Shall we?

How long have you worked at the hospital?

Um, best part of 15 years.

And always in the morgue?

Of course. It was just paperwork and big fridges when I started.

Then they started computerising things.

Never seem to have got it quite right, but I make sure I'm up to speed.

-You do right.

-I know what people think.

It's just a morgue, no more harm to be done here. But it's important that things are right.

Yeah, of course it is.

They may just be bodies to the doctors and medical students,

but to me they're my responsibility.

And when the med students have finished with them, I think we owe them a bit of dignity.

Is there any other way in to the department?

Gerry, er, maybe you should take the lead on this one,

me being the new boy and everything, eh?

If you want. OK.

Just come through, then.

Thank you.

When you say you have news about Martin,

it's not good news, is it?

No, I'm afraid it isn't, Mrs Longthorn.

You best sit down, Mrs Longthorn.

It's been a year with no word, so...

I've prepared myself for the worst. Just say it.

We found Martin's body.

How? I mean...

SHE SIGHS

You know what I mean.

We don't think there was any foul play.

Martin had a brain haemorrhage.

I see.

Well, no, I don't, really.

Didn't anyone take him to hospital?

Erm, yes. Yeah, they did eventually, yes.

I want to see him.

I want to see my boy.

We really don't think that's a good idea.

If you don't take me, I'll bloody walk.

I don't doubt it, Moira,

but I think you should hear what we've got to say to you first.

This is the only other way in, and look...

Ah! How long do you keep the recordings?

12 months. Do you want copies?

Yes, please.

So, if me or the other morgue administrators don't recognise you, you don't get in.

So, how many people have the code for this place?

Myself and the other administrators, medical examiners,

some members of the teaching faculty,

usually from the anatomy department, and medical students, of course.

Anybody else has to be buzzed in, signed in and supervised at all times.

So, whoever brought the body in either knew the code or knew someone who knew it?

Mm. Exactly.

Or else...they just watched somebody else type it in.

Can they do that, just get a body out?

Oh, yeah. They're all assigned their own cadavers

and they can do extra study and dissection

whenever they have time, providing the proper supervision is available.

-They're just kids.

-First years.

-And do they get up to any hijinks?

-Hijinks?

Well, medical students have a bit of a reputation, don't they?

They never offer to give somebody a hand?

Or literally put a foot in the door?

No, no, no, no. That just doesn't happen.

-It doesn't? Really?

-Really.

Do you know what it takes to get into a medical school these days,

let alone one as prestigious as this?

They have to stay focused once they get here, and, believe me,

Professor Blake wouldn't stand for anything like that.

There you go.

Thanks.

The students didn't know. They thought he'd consented to...

What have they done to him?

The important thing to remember is he wouldn't have felt or known anything.

But we're not going to lie to you, Moira.

He's a bit of mess.

You wouldn't want to remember him that way.

You want to remember him like this.

He was such a good boy, he really was.

SHE SIGHS

I mean, we had our ups and downs, you know.

Well, of course. Mums and sons, isn't it.

And it wasn't easy for him, having me as a mum.

I'm sure that's not true.

He was still a little boy when they told me I'd got MS.

He had to get his head around what that meant.

For the future.

Still, Martin coped with it better than his father did.

-Yeah, where is Martin's father?

-God knows.

He just walked out. Said he couldn't cope.

And he left you to look after Martin on your own?

No, Martin had to do the looking-after.

He was my carer, really.

I'm not saying he never complained but, you know, we managed.

Sounds like a good lad.

When he went missing...

..I did wonder...if, um...

..if he'd had enough of running after me,

and had done what his dad did.

And I wouldn't have blamed him,

but I-I should have known better.

Martin always wanted to help people.

He tried to join your lot, you know, and be a policeman.

Why didn't he?

Failed the medical. His asthma.

Yeah, but he did come and work with us.

Oh, yeah, yeah. No, he loved his job. He really did.

He said he...liked to feel he was doing his bit.

Moira, do you know anything about this girl he was meeting on the evening that he disappeared?

No. I didn't know anything until the police asked me

about somebody called Catherine.

He told me he was going to see a film that night.

Well, sons don't tell mums everything, do they?

Don't you think we know that?

It was an internet date, through an online agency.

Their computers match you up, put you in touch,

and you go for a drink and see what happens.

And what did happen?

Well, I thought it was going pretty well but he deployed his parachute.

-Parachute?

-You know, the emergency phone call.

Heading out on a first date and you don't know how it's going to go,

so you get someone to call you 40 minutes in,

and if it's going well you say, "Sorry, mate, I can't talk now."

And if it's going badly, you pretend there's been an emergency and you have to leave immediately.

A work thing in this particular case.

Some kind of work emergency only he could fix.

He was just trying to spare my feelings I suppose,

which is something, isn't it?

Well, maybe it was genuine.

Why, what did he say exactly?

Oh, I can't honestly remember.

Something had come up at work.

I didn't like to ask because I thought he was lying.

He was nice enough to walk me back to the tube station.

And then?

I got a kiss.

-On the forehead.

-Ah.

And that was the last I saw of him, or expected to see of him.

I was hardly surprised when he didn't call,

although I didn't expect the police to turn up looking for him.

-Not my best date.

-I don't know. I've had worse.

Martin spent half his life in here,

up until all hours, tapping away on that computer.

Yeah? Was he in to anything specific, do you know?

I haven't got the foggiest.

He kept trying to get me to have a go, but I didn't fancy it much.

Especially not after the headaches it gave him.

Horrible they were, like migraines or something.

-Did he ever see a doctor about that?

-No. I kept telling him he should go.

Is that what they were, then, that thing in his head?

The aneurysm? Definitely.

If he... And if he had gone to the doctor...?

If I'd, you know, made more of a point of it?

No, no, no, no.

You see with Martin, where it was meant they couldn't have done anything about it.

He said he could speak to people all over the world on that thing without having to leave the house.

Well, he was right.

But I wanted him to leave the house, though, get out,

meet real people, not computer ones.

All he ever did was go to work, come home and go on that thing.

Yeah, but was he was happy?

Well, he said he was.

But?

About a year and a half ago,

he went for another job,

still in the police. He wanted to join the e-crimes unit.

The computer boys? Sounds like he would have been perfect.

Well, he thought so.

And he got through to the final interview but...

..I collapsed that morning,

out there in the hallway.

One of the neighbours found me and called an ambulance.

Martin should have gone to that interview.

I mean, he knew it's what I would have wanted,

but he dropped everything and came to the hospital instead.

And that was that.

Moira, would you mind if we took Martin's laptop with us,

just to help with the investigation?

Well, the last lot took the computer, the Missing Persons team.

They reckon they didn't find anything.

Yeah, but Missing Persons don't have what we have.

Ohhh!

What?

This laptop - it's a UNIX-based operating system.

-Meaning?

-Meaning he doesn't know how to work it.

-Oh, and you do?

-Why don't we get some of the e-crimes boys down?

-God, no, thanks!

-Is that a bad idea?

-Oh, I can't stand them hanging around, talking gibberish,

treating us like we're moronic dinosaurs cos we're not on Facebook.

-I'm on Facebook.

-Of course you are.

Right, then. This is the CCTV footage from the morgue on the evening

that Martin Longthorn disappeared.

Now, here's the first problem.

God! How dumb is that?

Exactly. The camera's pointing directly at the keypad,

so if you can access the security system by computer,

you can just watch somebody key the numbers in.

Assuming someone did have access.

Which they obviously did. Because look at this.

Now, this is from early in the morning.

Now, keep your eye on the clock.

-Oh!

-There.

-What was that, like 20 minutes?

-22 and a half.

-It's just gone.

It's been erased from the hard drive, and the same section is missing from all the cameras, inside and out.

Well, who could do that?

Well, there's about 120 staff and students who have physical access to the morgue,

but the hospital are very security-conscious,

and I spoke to Professor Blake,

and he says that there's a systems password

that you need to get into the computer to get to the CCTV.

And that password's changed every day.

At least that narrows it down a bit.

Yeah, but there must be some record of who could access the system and delete the footage.

I, um, think they were probably smart enough not to leave a trace.

-Er, Xander Levine. Detective Superintendent Pullman?

-Yeah.

Xander Levine, e-crime. From e-crime.

Oh, hi. Hi.

-There's a laptop?

-Yeah. Brian?

Xander?

-Yes?

-Is that your real name?

Yes.

I'll, er...

All right if I...

-No!

-Not there, no!

-That's Jack's desk.

Er, tell you what. Steve, why don't you put your stuff up here?

Er, oh, no, hey. I'm fine where I am for now.

Xander, come over. I'll make a bit of space for you here.

Pop it down there.

So we've got 22 and a half minutes missing

which is probably very likely when the body was placed in the morgue.

So what we need to do is find the names of all the people who had passwords to that system

to see if there's any connection to Martin Longthorn.

Martin Longthorn?

What?

Sorry. This laptop belonged to Martin Longthorn?

-Did you know him?

-Yeah. Not well.

He tried out for a job in e-crimes but something happened

and he couldn't make the last interview.

-Yeah, his mother was very ill.

-He took me out for coffee a few times, I gave him some pointers.

He went missing, didn't he?

Yeah, his body's just been discovered in a morgue, under a false name.

But why would anyone...?

Sorry, that's what you're doing.

-When did you last speak to him?

-He took me out for lunch in a cafe,

maybe a week after the last interview was supposed to take place,

as a sort of a thank-you for helping him.

That was a couple of months before he went missing. How did he seem?

-Pretty upset.

-Can you remember anything else you talked about?

The Roguenet group, probably.

Roguenet, what's that?

Online group, political activists.

They attack the computer systems of banks, insurance companies, that kind of thing.

What was Martin's interest?

Just curious, I think. That's why he wanted to join e-crime.

He was interested in what makes the members of Roguenet tick and how they do what they do.

Right, I've got some work to do,

but you're welcome to stick around for a couple of hours and see if you can turn up anything on that laptop.

-What you got there?

-Oh, I picked up a sandwich at the hospital.

It was either that or fried chicken again.

Steve, you're in London. We have cuisine.

Hey, it's not all deep-fried Mars bars in Glasgow, you know?

Get off! All Scottish food's based on a dare.

Hey, that's fighting talk, pal.

-Here, I tell you what, why don't we go out to dinner?

-What, you buying?

-Behave yourself, it's not a date! Jump in.

-Fair dos.

I think I've found something.

There's very little on here of any use, but I wanted to be thorough,

so I dug around in a few places

where internet history and login details can be cached without being referenced in the main registry.

OK. It doesn't really... It wouldn't help you to understand that.

What did you find?

Hawksmoor 17.

I'm sorry. I have no idea what that means.

The Roguenet group.

You're saying that Hawksmoor 17 is one of them?

He cropped up on a few of the forums they use a little over a year ago.

Very active for a while, talking to some of the key players,

Jake Bentley among them.

Jake was a leading light in Roguenet,

called himself Major Mayhem.

He's in prison here, awaiting an extradition hearing.

The Americans want to try him for a denial of service attack

against a Wall Street brokerage that cost them over 100m.

-And Hawksmoor 17 is a friend of his?

-Or an accomplice. We were never able to track him down.

-But Martin Longthorn did?

-No.

This is a secure login ID for a forum held in the Ukraine

by some of the Russian hacker gangs.

The ID is cached in this computer's memory

because it was needed to allow Hawksmoor 17 access to the site.

Martin hadn't found Hawksmoor.

He WAS Hawksmoor.

No! He wouldn't have been involved in anything like that.

I told you both, he loved working for the police.

It must have been very hard on him, missing out on that computer job he'd set his heart on.

Do you think he wasn't used to getting knockbacks?

I'm sure he put on a brave face, but...

He didn't have to put on any face on with me. I'm his mum.

-Moira...

-No. Why don't you just finish picking over my dead son's belongings?

Then you can get out of my house.

This doesn't work like any other criminal organisation you might come across in the real world.

There's no hierarchy, there's no stated aims...

-They probably don't even know each other.

-Absolutely, Mr Lane.

These individuals are scattered around the world.

They never meet in real life and it's policy never to reveal their real names to each other.

So what have they got in common?

An interest in cracking computer security and a loosely shared set of social ideals.

According to this, the Roguenet group claimed responsibility

for crashing the websites of several major newspapers here and in America,

and for leaking confidential reports from the Ministry Of Defence,

-the NHS, the Pentagon and the United Nations.

-Blimey!

Surely all these activities require organisation?

And if there's organisation, there must be a hierarchy.

None that we can establish, and we've worked on this for three years.

They talk to each other on various underground forums

and they seem to form into cells to perform particular tasks.

Not everyone does everything.

We're still a long way from understanding how it all works.

But you managed to catch this guy Jake Bentley.

More by luck than design.

We were after someone called Boz,

who we'd identified as a key UK figure in Roguenet.

Boz seems to be an activist in the more traditional sense,

organising anti-corporate activities against UK companies,

or fighting government initiatives on the NHS, unemployment, that sort of thing.

We knew Boz was in contact with a someone called Major Mayhem,

who'd helped coordinate some of the looting in London and Birmingham in 2011.

We couldn't get close to Boz, he was too cautious,

but we had some luck in tracking down Major Mayhem

who turned out to be Jake Bentley, a 20-year-old kid from Leeds.

And Martin Longthorn was in contact with Jake Bentley?

-Yes.

-And Boz?

We don't know. It's possible.

And Martin had access to some very sensitive material,

not least the identities of undercover officers.

Roguenet could be sitting on it.

Saving it for a rainy day, you mean?

Does putting the lives of serving police officers on the line

fit the profile of a group of social activists?

No, not the vast majority of them at least.

-But there are a few who have no qualms about it.

-Boz?

Boz would be one of those, yeah.

Major Mayhem, I presume?

We want to talk to you about Hawksmoor 17.

-Never heard of him.

-Yes, you have.

You spoke to him on and off for a couple of months

on one of the Roguenet group forums.

-The what?

-Oh, no, Jake, don't play this game. You're not that guy.

There's plenty in here who could sit across this table and give us some lip, but not you.

-No?

-Some brick shithouse with love and hate on his knuckles,

takes a ski-mask and a sawn-off shotgun to work.

That guy can sit across there and throw out some attitude

because we can't make his day better or worse than it already is.

But you're 21 years old, son.

You've got a poster of Jar Jar Binks on your bedroom wall and,

up until now, the scariest thing that's ever happened to you

is watching a bootleg copy of The Blair Witch Project on your own with the lights out.

STEVE CHUCKLES

So drop the act, son.

It's not cutting any ice.

Hawksmoor's real name was Martin Longthorn. Did you know him?

In the world? No.

I talked to him a few times online.

What about?

I'm sure your e-crime boys have got the transcripts.

What did you talk about?

He reckoned he was a player.

-Was he?

-I don't know. Maybe.

He jumped through some hoops,

tests people set, to see how good someone is,

to see if they're the real thing.

-Break into a secure system, plant a flag.

-A flag?

A daft picture or a bit of code that makes the system behave a certain way.

It's like a tag, or signature, so everyone knows you were there.

-And Martin Longthorn passed these tests, did he?

-Yeah.

Why'd he get in contact with you?

He was trying to sell something,

-a file.

-What file?

Information.

Confidential information he claimed came from a police server.

And did he show you any proof that he actually had this information?

No. I didn't push because I wasn't interested.

I don't have a problem with the police.

I think you're doing a difficult job as well as you can.

My targets were the banks, the corporations

and the governments they've got in their pockets.

But this-this information would be valuable to somebody, though.

Yeah! The Russian gangs would bite your hands off cos they can put it up

for auctions and make a fortune off it, IF it was real.

I had no use for it.

Whatever he had...

..it's worrying you.

It should.

-You introduced him to someone.

-Yeah, I did.

I introduced him to Boz.

You knew Martin Longthorn.

A little bit.

But you don't seem surprised that he was this Hawksmoor 17.

The data doesn't lie.

No, but there might be more than one version of the truth.

If you got an impression of him from meeting him in the real world...

Who people are in real life and who they are online can be two very different things.

You ever done cybersex?

I'm sorry?

Sex chatrooms online. Hook up with a stranger and talk dirty till one of you or both...

No, I haven't!

The point is that the beautiful blonde 25-year-old whose husband's away,

and wants a good time with no strings attached,

is probably a group of 18-year-old lads back from the pub having a big laugh at your expense.

-Right.

-Or a gay man.

-Yeah, point taken.

-Or a group of gay men,

on the beer, tempting you to show your stuff on webcam.

Can we stop there?

The point is who Martin was here may not be who he was there.

Just like whoever brought his body into this place

could be the last person in the world you'd ever suspect.

Who is Boz?

I have no idea.

And yet you've known him for what, two, three years?

This is the internet, the cloak of anonymity.

No-one knows who anyone really is.

Yeah, but he's, he's a good hacker, this guy,

like a leading light in this Roguenet.

I've seen better hackers.

What marks out Boz...is commitment.

He really wants to change things,

and he really believes in the methods of Roguenet.

Cyber carnage.

Violent change and upheaval, the destruction of the establishment.

He wants to bring the banks and the governments that back them to their knees.

And replace them with what?

A government of the people for the people.

He's old-fashioned like that.

So, if this Hawksmoor 17 approached Boz with a file of sensitive information about the police...

-Boz would buy it.

-And do what with it?

The most damage possible at the worst possible time.

There was a story last year from America about a bloke, happily married with kids,

launching a big online affair with another man.

Things got pretty heated and they exchanged what you might call intimate pictures of each other,

without their faces showing, to preserve anonymity.

The problem came when this guy's wife gets into the computer

to check her e-mail and accidentally stumbles across these pictures.

She goes into a tailspin, and tells her mum,

who takes one look at the pictures and recognises the other fella as her husband.

So this bloke was having a gay affair online...

With his own father-in-law.

Christmas dinner at their house must have been interesting.

-Oh, Mr Lane?

-Hello, Colin.

-Sorry to keep you waiting.

I understand you need access to our system.

Yes, this is Xander Levine, he's from our e-crime team.

-Can I borrow a spare terminal?

-By all means.

The access password for the general staff changes weekly, as per our security guidelines.

The current password is...

LUH41793ZX.

That bloke over there has it on a post-it note stuck to his monitor,

from which we can glean that his home wi-fi key will be

the manufacturer's default,

and his domestic computer password is password.

That man's a security risk.

Don't let him take anything important home.

You need admin access to change files and access security settings?

Yeah, that's right.

And you said that password changed every day.

Yeah, it does. Only a few of us have it

and let me assure you that none of us write it down and stick it anywhere.

OK, there doesn't seem to be any way for a staff member to

sneak into the secure system from these directories.

Can you log me in as admin?

I promise not to sneak a peak.

OK. Thank you, Colin.

-Is that it?

-Yep. You should log out while you remember.

-Nothing there?

-I'm sorry we couldn't have been more help.

-No, that's fine. I got what I needed.

-Really?

Yeah. I know exactly who altered these records.

Auto-immune diseases are probably the most common chronic conditions

your patients will present with repeatedly.

This all happened at what, 2 o'clock in the morning?

2.07.

What hours do you imagine I work?

I was at home in bed. My wife can corroborate that.

The file system and the security system

were accessed by the computer in your office.

-My office is locked at night.

-And the computer shut down?

-Yes.

-The records were changed and the CCTV images deleted by someone

who had administrator privileges on the system.

There are several people with admin access.

It was your login ID that was used.

Well, I don't know what to tell you. I was at home in bed.

Our system is linked to the outside world.

I'm sure it would be possible for someone to hack into the system.

-Oddly enough, we did think of that.

-Right. And?

-And that's not what happened.

-Well, how can you possibly be sure?

If whoever it was was smart enough to get in,

then surely they would have covered their tracks and...

Your password was used, Professor Blake.

Excuse me?

We looked into the possibility that somebody had breached security to get into your system,

but your system's set up in such a way that that would have been impossible without leaving a trace.

It's like after a burglary, you can always work out how the thief got into your house.

This thief had a front door key.

A password that was changed every day at midnight.

So, when it was only two hours old,

it was used to log in with your ID from your terminal,

which had not been shut down that night.

Professor Blake, why didn't you turn off our computer when you left the office?

And who did you give your password to?

Six years ago,

the...government announced its intention to restructure

some of the educational divisions of the NHS.

To the public, they presented it as a cost-saving exercise.

The actual implications of the changes would have been pretty dire

for medical students and teaching facilities.

I took it upon myself to stand up against the bill.

I organised a petition, wrote several articles for the medical publications,

and a number of letters to the broadsheets.

I felt strongly opposed to what was happening.

Someone got in touch with me,

claiming to represent a pressure group

that could put some weight behind my campaign.

We exchanged a number of e-mails,

within which I divulged information that I probably shouldn't have.

Not privileged information, but sensitive.

It came out incrementally, and it was only in hindsight that

I realised this person had rather skilfully extracted it from me.

And a week after our last correspondence,

a document was leaked detailing the government's true intentions

towards the NHS education department.

It caused a stink.

The proposal was withdrawn

and a junior cabinet minister lost his job.

So the person who contacted you used the information you provided

to gain access to the document and then leak it.

Yes.

I didn't approve of the means, you understand,

but the end was exactly what I'd hoped for and the best outcome for our department.

So I'm afraid I kept my mouth shut.

Then, a year ago, the same person contacted me again.

This time he made a threat.

He said he needed me to give him the admin password.

If I didn't, he would divulge my involvement in the leak.

That would have been the end of my career.

He assured me that no-one would be harmed

by whatever action he was going to take,

and that nothing illegal would be done in my name.

I didn't feel I had any choice.

After the fact, I didn't even know what had been done,

until we discovered the misidentified body the other day.

The name of your contact, please, Professor Blake.

I never knew a name,

only a nickname - Boz.

What happens now?

I honestly don't know.

I'll have to contact the CPS and they'll figure out

if you've committed a crime and whether they want to prosecute it.

-I realise I've been very stupid.

-Unfortunately, there's no law against that.

I mean he's just got one of the best voices in rock, ever.

-Absolutely.

-And he's a Scotsman.

Rod the God was born in Highgate.

Yeah, but culturally, genetically...

What, just cos he wears a bit of tartan?!

# You're in my heart

# You're in my soul

# You'll be my breath should I grow old

# You are my lover You're my best friend

# You're in my soul... #

Yeah, nobody can resist a bit of Rod, eh.

That's what I've heard!

Cheers, mate.

So, Brian, what's the best gig you've ever been to?

Oh, I...

I don't really like all the noise.

I took Esther to see The Nolans once.

-Oh, yeah. Did she like it?

-Well, we left before the end. She had a headache.

Why am I not surprised?

Headache with the Nolans?!

I'm just popping to the...

THEY CONTINUE LAUGHING

The Rolling Stones at Ally Pally.

All-night gig, and before they recorded Satisfaction.

Ah, that must have been incredible.

-Oh, brilliant! Brian, poor old Brian was still there.

-Yeah, yeah.

Keith, Charlie, Mick the lip.

THEY LAUGH

THEY GRUNT THE TUNE TO SATISFACTION

What, so you think you're not welcome?

Well, what do you think?

Gerry Standing is a friend of yours,

and he'll always be a friend,

no matter who goes in or out of that office. Brian...

I think Steve's here to stay.

-What, and you're not getting on with him?

-I don't know him.

Well, how might you get to know him, do you think?

I think he's more Gerry's kind of person.

Is this all about somebody taking Jack's place?

No, no, it's not. Not at all.

It's just all...changing.

Don't go on the pattern!

SHE SIGHS

New people, new arrangements...

Change can be good, can't it?

Since when?

No!

Brian, Steve McAndrew has uprooted himself,

he's come down to London to help UCOS out.

He doesn't know anybody,

he's probably feeling like a fish out of water.

So instead of moping about and sulking

because Gerry's got a new friend,

why don't you take a leaf out of Gerry's book

and try and help Steve to settle in?

So Martin Longthorn was a hacker with Roguenet.

Jake Bentley introduced him to Boz,

who may or may not have bought a list of undercover police officers from him.

Martin dies of natural causes.

Why would Boz feel the need to hide his body?

Maybe there was something about the body itself that Boz was trying to hide.

Given where the body was hidden,

and the fact that there wasn't an inch of it that hadn't been

examined, dissected, and written about,

why don't I check those student reports, see if there's anything there?

-Yeah, good idea.

-I'm already on to that.

Anything, Gerry?

Yeah. There's no porn anywhere on Martin Longthorn's computer.

-Excuse me?

-No, I'm being serious.

He's a young bloke, he lives with his mum,

and we know he has an interest in the female of the species.

Just not female librarians.

Yeah, I mean, it's weird there isn't a couple of nude photographs on there.

I mean, in our day, we had to brave the top shelf

and disapproving newsagents, but now...

Blimey, you can get an eye full of anything,

and you don't have to leave the house, and it's free!

Half the fun of having a mucky book when you were a kid was finding a good place to hide it.

Under the mattress.

Behind the radiator.

Top of the wardrobe.

Not me, me mate.

The point is, Sandra, we all collect bits and pieces on our computer.

There's documents, photographs, videos, music.

But there's hardly anything on Longthorn's.

Now, the original investigation said there was nothing suspicious on it,

but I think they missed what wasn't on it.

-So where is all this stuff?

-On a hard drive somewhere.

-A cloud.

-What?

Online data storage.

I remember Martin told me he had trouble renewing his online storage

because the company wouldn't recognise his new credit card.

-What was the name of the company?

-I think I remember.

Hey!

Can I...?

It was a data haven in the Philippines.

I remember cos it's off the beaten track,

not the kind of place most people would use.

But we don't know the login details.

Maybe we don't need to.

-How's that?

-Because you send a thief to catch a thief.

Before I was with e-crime, I was...freelance.

-You were a hacker?

-In the dim and distant past.

-That date that Martin went on the night he disappeared - did they eat?

-No, they just went out for a drink.

Well, he ate somewhere. There's a report here on stomach contents.

He had fish, potatoes, kaffir lime leaves, lemongrass and beetle leaves.

Beetle leaves? Sounds like Thai. And expensive.

So he bailed on Catherine and went out for dinner?

-BRIAN:

-There's nothing on his credit cards or bank statements.

Maybe he paid cash. Maybe someone else paid.

All right, get a list of all the Thai restaurants near to where

he met Catherine and also near to his house.

And then look over the past few statements

because he might have eaten there before.

Got it! The contents of Martin's online data storage.

Ah-ha! The porn stash.

Roguenet. Look at all this lot.

Blimey, there's hundreds of them.

Why has he collected all this stuff?

This is an investigation. He's collecting evidence,

-against Roguenet.

-What do you mean?

Well, what if our man wasn't a hacker at all?

He wanted to be a cop, didn't he? But he couldn't because of his asthma,

and then he missed the e-crime gig because of his mother's illness.

Well, what if he's trying to prove that he can succeed where e-crime failed?

Here, look. He's goading Boz with supposed inside information about the police.

Which presumably he had no intention of actually handing over.

So at the time of his death, he was actively seeking out Boz.

And considering what happened, it looks like he succeeded.

-CATHERINE:

-I'm really not sure I can be of any more help.

It was hardly the longest date of my life,

and I've already recounted it several times in as much detail as I can remember.

Actually, it's the phone call we're interested in.

Yes, he got a call after about 45 minutes of slightly awkward small talk.

And that was the friend with the bail-out opportunity, you think?

Yeah. Although I thought it was going pretty well.

Maybe I'd been on more of those things than he had,

and I was just judging it in the light of worse experiences.

He claimed it was a call from work?

Yeah, although he didn't actually say that. I might have just assumed.

Anyway, you're the police.

Can't you trace the call and find out who phoned him?

Unfortunately it was a prepaid phone that was never recovered.

If Martin didn't actually say it was a call from work,

then why did you think that?

It's the way he answered the phone. He said, "Hello, Boss."

I think he was playing it a little bit cool because I was there, I suppose.

-"Hello, Boss." Are you sure it was "boss"?

-As opposed to...?

-Boz.

-Well...

I don't know who or what Boz is, but I suppose they sound the same.

Martin seems to have latched onto one particular IP address.

He's tracking it round the web on shopping sites,

message boards, the works.

Did he manage to get a location?

Not that I can see.

But he was building a profile of the user.

Why are you using this desk when there's an empty desk over there?

Well, it's a...

..bit of a delicate situation.

Never fancied a desk job!

Table for two?

Detective Superintendent Pullman. Are you the owner by any chance?

-How can I help?

-Do you recognise this man?

Yes. He used to come in here quite often.

Longthorn, Longthorn...

Nothing for that night, I'm afraid.

Doesn't mean he wasn't here, of course, just that he didn't make a reservation

-Can I take a look?

-Mm.

What about this one? Same evening, a party of ten - Hannah Barker.

-What about it?

-Well, it says "cake" under the booking.

Does that mean what I think it means?

It would have been someone's birthday.

And what do people bring to birthdays, apart from presents.

-Cards?

-Cameras.

There, there! Is that him?

Yes, that is him, but you can't see who he's with.

Hang on a minute, look. The waiter's taking a photo of him

and whoever he's with on a mobile phone.

Brian, look. It's tiny. Can you enlarge it?

Yeah. Send it over to me. I'll see if I can get it clearer.

Ooh, there's a lot of noise on this picture, but hang on.

-He's holding someone's hand.

-It's a woman.

So he left Catherine to go and meet another woman.

Have you just got to where I've got to? Boz is a woman.

Certainly looks like it. What have you got?

The IP address Martin was tracking led to a dating site.

The person whose address it was was logged in as a client.

So he was doing online dating to try to find Boz.

-So he had a date with her?

-He did.

Can you get a list of who he saw? We need the one after Catherine.

-He just had one date.

-What?

He got Boz on the first attempt.

There was just one date at 8 o'clock that evening.

Hello, Boz.

POLICE!

CLEAR!

-OFFICER:

-Nothing upstairs.

I think I'm in love.

I get confused with one!

Yeah, join the club.

Russian? Why is it in Russian?

It's a security system designed by one of the Russian hacker gangs.

We're seeing more of these. No-one's figured a way around them yet.

You get three chances to get the password right.

If not, the software wipes the entire hard drive for good.

But there must be a back door.

What if you take the hard drive out of the machine?

No, the software gets wired into a physical trembler,

an anti-tampering device that's got an internal battery.

Even if the machine's turned off,

any attempt to disconnect the drive triggers the wipe.

Then we need the password.

However obscure, it's going to be something meaningful, something personal.

Yeah, but we don't know anything about Boz.

No, not Boz. Boz is a fictional creation. Catherine.

We don't know much about her, do we?

No, but we've got her online dating profile.

If she was genuinely looking for a relationship, then she's probably told the truth about herself on here.

Here we go.

Right, she's a big reader.

No surprise there, given her job.

A Tale Of Two Cities,

Bleak House,

The Old Curios...

That's it!

-What is?

-I'll call you back.

I should have realised sooner.

Boz.

The original pen-name of Charles Dickens.

I don't know what that has to do with me.

Oh, come on, Catherine.

You're a bit of a fan of Charles Dickens, aren't you?

I don't think I'm the only one.

And I bet you know a bit about him, I imagine, being a librarian.

Boz was his pen-name.

It was taken from a nickname he'd given his younger brother.

Used to call him Moses, but when he said it in a funny nasal tone,

it became Boses, which got shortened to Boz.

His brother's real name was Augustus.

Thank you.

Augustus. Are you sure?

-It got a reaction.

-That might not mean...

She knows we'll look for her password, doesn't she,

so that's on her mind.

Augustus ties in with Boz and it got a reaction.

It's too easy. There's no numbers, no symbols. It's not a hacker's password.

Just try it.

-We get three goes.

-Yeah, I know.

BEEPING

That's not it.

Is it in Russian?

I can't access a Cyrillic alphabet from here, so no.

Her birthday's in August!

-What does that mean?

-What, you don't think that's too much of a coincidence?

No, I don't. I told you, there needs to be letters and symbols.

Maybe leet.

What's leet?

Hacker language.

Numbers and symbols instead of letters.

Got it.

That's it.

This is Boz's computer, without a shadow of a doubt.

-You've got her, Brian.

-YES!

Well done, mate!

Brilliant!

I hit him, but it was just a slap, from someone my size.

I'm not strong.

He died from a brain haemorrhage, caused by a pre-existing aneurysm.

It could have happened any time, in his sleep, walking down the road...

So why don't you just tell us what happened?

Helping the police with their enquiries? I don't think so.

Why, because you don't have the courage of your convictions?

What does that mean?

Your online persona, Boz -

that's all about fighting for the little guy against the Establishment.

Well, Martin Longthorn was a little guy.

He wanted to be a policeman,

but he had asthma so he had to settle for an admin job.

Then he tried to join e-crime and on the day of his last interview,

his mother, Moira Longthorn, collapsed,

and he skipped and forfeited that interview

so he could be with his mother at the hospital.

Moira has multiple sclerosis. Martin lived with her.

He was her carer.

She just wants to know what happened to her son.

Are you going to deny her that,

just so you can score a point against the police?

It was a date.

As far as I was concerned, it was just a regular date,

and I wasn't necessarily expecting it to go anywhere,

although we did seem unusually compatible.

Of course, I found out later that was because he'd hacked the matching algorithm.

Anyway, we were getting on well,

and I still don't know if there was something to that or...if he was faking.

It doesn't matter now.

So, from the bar, you went on to dinner.

Yes. I should have realised something was up when he had the waiter take a picture of us.

He said we were getting on so well that we should have a picture

to remind us of the first time we met.

-My guard was down. I was...

-Happy?

-Stupid.

-And then when dinner was over, you went back to your place.

It wasn't like that.

I don't care what it was like. I just want to know what happened.

We went back to my flat.

I went to the bathroom to freshen up.

And when I came back downstairs, he was sitting at my computer.

His whole demeanour was different,

and he told me what the evening had really been all about -

establishing my identity, my home address, getting my picture,

gathering evidence.

I was furious.

Because he'd unmasked you?

Because he'd betrayed me.

I slapped him across the face as hard as I could.

But look at me. How much damage could I do?

But he screamed as if he was suddenly in pain. Then he fell.

And that was it.

He was dead.

And you really thought you'd killed him?

I didn't know. But I could hardly call 999, could I?

I didn't know who knew where he was going that night.

The only way I could keep it all under wraps was to get rid of the body.

That must have been extremely difficult.

Yeah, on your own.

He was collected from my flat by a private ambulance.

What did they think they were doing, then?

Transferring the body of someone who had donated himself to medical science.

No, no, no! There would have to have been records,

a doctor's certificate, a coroner's report.

There were records.

So you hacked more than the morgue?

A lot more.

So Martin Longthorn became Christopher Smith from Haringey,

before he even left your flat.

So how come there were 20 minutes of CCTV footage missing that night,

if you were nowhere near the morgue?

So that no-one could identify the private ambulance

when it delivered the body and start asking awkward questions about where they'd collected the body from.

OK.

Martin Longthorn baited you with a list of undercover police officers.

What would you have done with the list?

I don't know.

You have to realise that, if that list had got out,

the lives of those officers would have been in danger.

That's what happens in a war.

-Oh, we're at war, are we?

-Yes, we're at war.

We're fighting for our civil liberties, for our freedom,

for fairness against a corrupt,

self-regarding, patriarchal Establishment

who are willing to sacrifice every single one of us

in the pursuit of money and power.

Very nice speech, Boz. Very rousing.

You see, I don't think that Boz hit Martin Longthorn because he unmasked her.

I think Catherine hit him because he betrayed a lonely young woman

who thought that she'd finally found

some sort of connection in the real world.

I think I should only be taken apart by a qualified technician.

The funeral directors are picking him up from the hospital tomorrow.

They say they can make him look...

Well, I gave them a nice photo.

They know what they're doing.

I told you I knew my son.

You did, Moira.

LAUGHTER

-Oh, here he is.

-Ah, there you are.

-What's this?

I, er, I asked Steve to join us,

put a face to the name,

as you're going to be spending a lot of time together.

Couldn't turn down a bit of home cooking, you know.

-Right. Well, I'm afraid I've got quite a bit of work so...

-Brian!

Oh, it's all right, Mrs Lane.

-Don't worry.

-Oh, Esther, please.

Esther. Well, maybe I should just be on my way, if it's not a good time, you know.

Maybe. I think Gerry's in the pub.

Brian!

Look, Brian,

I never met Jack Halford, you know.

Heard a lot of good things, obviously, but I never met the man.

I know you all had a strong attachment to him and I respect that.

Maybe that's why I haven't been able to take over his desk, I don't know.

You know, I didn't come down here to make friends.

I came down here to do a job.

I can go into the office first thing in the morning,

go back to my place at night and let that be the end of it.

But if someone asks me out for a drink, I'll go.

If somebody is kind enough to offer me dinner in their home...

I'm not trying to replace Jack Halford,

I'm not trying to steal your friends.

-I'm just trying to get along, you know.

-STEVE CHUCKLES AWKWARDLY

Anyway, that's, that's, er, that's me, so, erm, thanks a lot, Esther.

-Thank you for the flowers.

-Oh, you're welcome. Well, goodnight to you both.

-Stop.

Look, now you're here, you might as well have some cottage pie.

She puts cheese on the top.

Well...

OK, then. Thanks.

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