Part 1 Silent Witness

This programme/film contains some scenes which some viewers may find upsetting.

YOUNG MAN: Don't leave me! Please!

Please help me!

SCREAMS

SCREAMS

Help!

Help me!

Oh!

Aah!

SCREAMS

Don't leave me here!

ECHOING: Please don't leave me!

# Testator silens

# Costestes e spiritu

# Silentium... #

JACK: What did that to his arm?

I don't know. It's definitely not rat bites.

Apparently, he fell from heaven.

Has anybody moved the debris?

Only what was needed to support the roof.

Don't want any more surprises from above.

-Who found him?

-Couple of developers.

They pulled this ladder out the way. It was holding up the ceiling.

-Developers?

-Yeah, you know.

Apartments of the future. Windmills, solar panels, that kind of thing.

-Anything you need from the body?

-No, he's all yours.

-You really need to be up there?

-Well, once we've cleared the floor.

-What was this building?

-Brimstead Fields?

It was a convalescent home for TB patients

till it was closed in the '60s.

Now you'll have a site manager breathing down your neck to get the bulldozers in.

He can breathe all he likes. No-one's coming in here until I say so.

Leo.

Sorry I'm late, Sanjit. CHUCKLES

-Have I missed anything?

-Nice try. No.

-One moment, please, sir.

-MEN MURMUR

Thank you.

You're probably thinking I'm a poor substitute for Sir William himself,

but imagine how I feel.

LAUGHTER

I can't tell you how sorry my father is that he can't be at the ceremony.

I can tell you that this unit is a project very, very close to his heart.

Mr Hancock. Your wife isn't here.

I know, Barbara.

Forgive me, I'm breaching the order.

You know I can't let you stay.

I don't want to interfere with anyone's care.

Just give me some space to sit with my son.

Please don't do this, Tom.

-You think I'm wrong?

-No.

But you're going to suffer for it. I'll have to call the police.

You do what you have to.

If you want to leave, leave now!

No-one come near me!

I will use this!

Can you get those people out, please? Just make sure they stay outside.

Erm...children's hospital, the TAU department.

The police, please.

MONITOR BEEPING

We have a man here with a gun.

Yes, OK. Thanks.

Well, Peter, I told you I'd keep my promise.

MONITOR BEEPING

MONITOR BEEPING

MONITOR BEEPING

RAPID BEEPS

You can build an empire, which he did. You can create a fortune, which he has.

You can even endure the shame of having a government minister for a son...

POLITE LAUGHTER

So, it's Lord Embleton now, is it?

Political donations...

-But at the end of the day...

-..beget political honours.

..power and fame and money fade away.

Our true legacy is in the things we do for others.

APPLAUSE

MONITOR BEEPING

They're on the left-hand side. He's just sitting next to his son.

MONITOR BEEPING

You had enough?

Sorry, I'm just not very good at these dog and pony shows.

-Ah, Minister.

-Sanjit.

Can I introduce you to Professor Leo Dalton?

-How do you do?

-Lord Embleton. Minister for Science.

I liked, erm...your point about the things we do for others.

You know, Professor, I used to think I knew my father.

Until I saw what losing my mother did to him. This is really for her.

Are you part of the unit?

No, I'm just visiting.

Professor Dalton's head of the Lyell Centre

and President of The Institute of Forensic Pathologists.

The Lyell Centre?

Do you have a Dr Alexander working for you?

Yeah, yeah. Do you know her?

I met her once. A weekend conference thing, somewhere.

They all merge into one. But I do remember her.

Excuse me. James, can I borrow you?

Sorry.

Something's wrong.

-I need to find Professor Dalton.

-Yeah, that's me.

-Pathologist?

-What's going on?

-Please come with me.

-What?

-We've got a situation in the ICU unit.

There's a man with a gun and he's asking to speak to you.

Professor Dalton. Are you the man I need?

-Well, I don't know. Am I?

-Thomas Hancock.

Self-employed heating engineer, no police record, no convictions.

His son is terminally ill.

Doctors advised him to withdraw treatment but his wife won't have it.

He switched off the machines

-and now he's making us all wait for the kid to die.

-What exactly...?

He wants to talk to the person who'll carry out his son's postmortem.

Tell him we need those other patients out of there.

He thought it was a trick when I... Oh, shit.

MONITORS BEEPING

I'm Leo Dalton. I'm a forensic pathologist.

I don't plan to hurt anyone. I just want to do right by my boy.

I understand.

Is it OK if I sit down?

He's still breathing.

I thought he'd stop when I switched off the machine.

-What have they told you?

-The cancer's everywhere.

His organs have failed. He'll never wake up.

My wife went on the internet, and now she chooses not to agree.

This isn't the way to deal with this.

I don't have a choice.

Her solicitor found a judge

who gave her the benefit of the doubt and overruled the doctors.

-Why did you ask for me?

-Because you'll be taking care of him

-when it's over.

-I can't guarantee that.

-I want you to promise.

-I can't.

If you want to know that your son's body's going to be respected...

No, what I want to know is what killed him.

-Well, you know the diagnosis.

-But they say nothing about why.

They put power lines outside the house that ran right past his bedroom window.

Don't tell me that's healthy.

Look, I can't make you a promise that I might not be able to keep.

Now, this power line thing is... shaky science.

And a tumour can't tell you what caused it to be a tumour.

Nobody wants to listen to me.

As long as I've got this, you have to.

I have evidence.

-I have proof.

-Of what?

OK, so maybe it's not the power lines.

There's a lot they don't want you to know.

So, you're the expert.

You tell me who killed my son.

MONITORS BEEPING

Took a lot of nerve to walk in here.

I know what it is to lose a child.

Let go, Peter.

Please, son, let go.

COCKS GUN

Don't even think it.

CONTINUOUS BEEP

BEEP STOPS

Go!

On the right, put it down!

Stand clear!

-Armed police! Get down on the floor!

-Armed police!

Secure.

On your knees. Stand up.

Move.

-Anything for me yet?

-The rest of his clothes. Help yourself.

£2.50 and a set of car keys. No ID of any kind.

-Did they find a car?

-Not that I know of.

And what about the damage to his arm?

I think he did it to himself.

SCREAMS

There's flesh in his teeth and tooth marks on the bone.

I'll get micro-CT and DNA to confirm.

That's one hell of a case of the munchies.

-Did you get his fingerprints?

-The skin's too far gone.

-Clarissa might be able to lift something from the water bottle.

-Yeah, I don't understand that.

A full bottle of water and he didn't even touch it.

Maybe it isn't water.

When you're done with the prints, can you screen his clothes for hallucinogens?

Nikki reckons our boy tried to chew his own arm off.

Oh. I got a partial from the belt buckle.

But it doesn't match any of the prints on the bottle.

-What, there were two people?

-Unless he had three index fingers.

Well, that still doesn't tell us how he could be up there for days without touching his water.

Maybe he couldn't reach it.

SCREAMING

Run the prints through AFIS and check out the water.

People have done worse on LSD.

-NIKKI:

-You could take the afternoon off.

I'd rather stay here and annoy you.

I don't want to be mooching around at home.

-As opposed to mooching around here?

-Hmm.

Do you know a Lord Embleton?

-Embleton?

-Mm.

He knows you. James Embleton.

-Oh, him! Yes.

-"Oh, him, yes"!

I only met him once.

Well, you made quite an impression.

Hm. We should talk about the man from the ceiling.

Does he have a name yet?

Clarissa lifted a partial from his belt buckle

and she's checking it against the database.

-And who's the officer?

-Detective Inspector Cherry.

-Do you know him?

-Is that him?

Yeah.

-You coming through?

-In a minute, yeah.

-Morning, James.

-Hello, Claire.

I'll get those e-mails sent.

-Do you need anything else?

-Some hot Vimto would be nice.

I'll tell the kitchen.

Hello, Dad.

Hm. I wish I was 79 again.

There was a bit of excitement after the ceremony.

Some nutcase got onto one of the wards with a shotgun.

Never mind that.

-WOMAN ON TV: Brimstead Fields...

-What's this about?

...former TB hospital which has been empty for more than 40 years...

-Oh, no.

-...intense police scrutiny...

-Brimstead Fields.

-...after a body was discovered...

-Didn't I make myself clear?

The contractors are supposed to start work next week.

-This is really going to mess things up.

-I told you.

I know.

But it's been standing empty for so long. It...it was meant to be a surprise.

It's that all right.

I'm not doing this to make money, Dad.

This is a big project.

We're converting the old hospital into apartments.

We're building 200 low-cost homes.

The whole development is going to be carbon-neutral.

No-one's ever done anything like this before, not on this scale.

We're providing homes for people.

Surely it's better to put that land to some sort of use?

Dad, you put me in the driving seat. You have to let me drive.

What's your problem with it?

Legal issues.

-Hm.

-I have to go.

I'm going to have to deal with this.

I'll call again soon.

CROWS CAW

RATTLING

The body's quite well preserved.

From the way he was dressed, I'd say he entered the building in summer.

A hot, airless, confined space would have accelerated death from dehydration

and then acted to preserve the tissues from decay.

But he had a full bottle of water with him. So, why didn't he use it?

Exactly, something we're looking into.

There are lacerations on the arm below the major injury.

And signs of tearing, all in one direction.

How long did he live?

Long enough for necrosis to set in on the arm.

Days at least. Perhaps more than a week.

Dehydration could have led to shock and cardiac arrest.

As would a release of myoglobin from the necrotic muscle.

We can't rule out blood loss when he bit through the artery.

Ah, listen, there's currently 200 misper files for young males in their 20s.

Is there anything that you can give me that might narrow it down a bit?

Well, I did find something interesting in the organ slides.

Oh, here we go. This is my nightmare of being dragged back to school.

This is a slice from the best-preserved kidney.

If you look at the structure, you'll see signs of tubular dysfunction.

This means a less efficient kidney

that passes substances into the urine instead of the bloodstream.

Increased urination means more rapid dehydration.

So, how does that help me?

It could help identify him

-through medical records.

-And if that doesn't

-turn anything up, there's always the option of virtual reconstruction.

-What, with that face?

Well, Nikki's worked wonders with less.

-When Dr Alexander's done with you, can you come with me to the clean room, please?

-Sure.

I used the grid to recreate where all the ceiling pieces fell.

From there, I could jinx them around

to approximate where they would have been before the whole thing came down.

-So, what about the water?

-He couldn't reach it.

The flags are a blood trail...

..and they led me to here.

Now, in this part of the space there's a conduit through the brick.

And for some reason he pushed his arm right through it,

and got himself trapped.

SCREAMING

SCREAMING

How do you know that?

Well, there was massive blood loss here.

Enough to tell us that he must have bitten through an artery

in his final effort to get free.

Then he dragged himself across to the hatch.

Doesn't have the strength to open a bottle of water.

All he's thinking about is getting out.

No tears of relief, can't spare the moisture.

Up till now, still looks to me like misadventure.

But what does he find when he gets here?

Bolted?

From below. Look around.

There's no other way in or out.

This wasn't just misadventure.

Someone locked him in and left him to die.

GASPING

-Good work.

-Thanks.

I've got a black-tie bash tomorrow,

and I was wondering if you'd stand in for me.

-You've done it before.

-Will I know anyone?

Oh, it's all the usual Forensic Forum crowd.

Be good for you. Be good for the Lyell Centre.

-If I have to.

-Thanks.

Oh, they've just brought the Hancock boy in.

Thank you.

SHE SIGHS

DOOR CLICKS OPEN

-What are you doing here?

-I'm on bail.

How did you get bail?

-I'm no significant risk to the public.

-Well, that's rich.

After you killed our son.

-If that's what you want to think.

-You don't care what I think.

Even if his only chance was a miracle, you took that chance away.

You could see how he was suffering.

If he could suffer, he could live.

What do you want from me?

I want him back.

Why don't we sit down and talk about it?

Stella. Stella!

You go to hell!

DOOR SLAMS

Everything I'm seeing confirms what's in his notes.

Multiple primary lung tumours, probably synchronous.

A stage four small-cell carcinoma with multiple secondaries.

He's had it all. Surgery. Radiation.

Nothing helped.

I don't know if we can take the hospital notes as read.

Once he'd reached a terminal state,

there'd be no more diagnostic searches.

I doubt we'll find anything that alters the story.

-How old's the scan?

-Three weeks.

He went down fast.

How did you leave it with the father?

He wants someone to blame.

He wants an explanation and the truth is

that sometimes it's just an appalling lottery.

Leo?

What?

Very rarely do you see this level

of tubular atrophy in someone so young.

Unless the kidney disease is genetic.

The same as the boy in the roof?

Test the blood and urine for tubular acidosis.

For both cases.

SIGHS

Good morning, Clarissa.

Americano, dash of milk,

and a little biscuit.

What are you after?

Can I not just buy my colleague a cup of coffee?

I had a voucher.

Cheapskate. How are we doing?

Winning two-nil. That grid idea of yours was a blinder.

-I've sent off the DNA.

-You know, if it were down to me

I'd have everyone chipped like a dog and save us all a lot of trouble.

If the keys were in his pocket, what happened to his car?

Well, the police did a search and found nothing. Maybe there was a second set.

You wouldn't be able to move it without one. There's a transponder.

Were you able to get a make and a model?

Better than that. I got you Colin Connor.

-Who's Colin Connor?

-Your boy in the roof.

AFIS matched the partial from the belt buckle.

Oh.

You little tease.

Thanks for the coffee. And the biscuit.

Colin Connor was a local kid.

We've got his prints on file from a bit of petty crime.

-What about family?

-It said a sister in Newcastle.

Been signing on. Hadn't done any work or any training for five years.

That's all we know about him until we find out who his friends were.

-Where did he live?

-Above a pub.

Landlord assumed he'd skipped, so he bagged up all his gear.

So, of course, all we found were his dirty clothes and his dirty mags.

CHUCKLES

And then when you said you'd found the keys, we widened the search.

So, we were just wondering, could that be it?

Looks like someone pushed it down here and then torched it, cover their tracks.

Did no-one report it?

Well, we had it down as dumped, not stolen.

Well, this is what they were after.

These are the cut ends of all the wire

I found in the burned-out pick-up.

This is scrap wiring from the old building.

Look at the tool marks on the end.

They're a match.

It's metal theft. They were stripping out copper to sell for cash.

-They?

-Colin Connor and at least one other.

Colin goes into the roof space to get the wire.

He reaches too far into a conduit, gets his arm stuck.

Instead of helping him out,

the other one bolts the trap, leaves him to die a horrible death,

and torches the pick-up to cover their tracks.

Why would someone do that?

Did you ever read The Cask of Amontillado?

The what?

Look it up.

Come on then, genius.

It's a short story by Edgar Allan Poe.

Course it is.

A man responds to an insult by luring his friend into a wine cellar

and then walling him in alive.

It's good.

Working here is like being on bloody Mastermind.

So, what are you going to do now?

Find out who owns the truck.

'Tom. What can I do for you?'

Yeah, I...I'm calling for news.

You have to be patient.

You made me a promise.

'I said that I would give you an answer when I had one.'

You said "when". That mean you think I could be right?

I didn't say that.

You haven't even asked to see my evidence yet.

Yeah, well, I prefer to find my own.

Look, take my advice, keep away from the internet.

'I'll see you at the inquest, OK?'

PHONE BEEPS

WOLF-WHISTLES

Wow. Don't suppose you need a plus-one?

-It's a formal occasion, Jack.

-I can behave.

Jury's out on that one.

Hi. Oh! Look at you.

We have the test results for Peter Hancock's kidney disease.

-Everything points to Fanconi syndrome.

-Really?

I know, it's rare, but it's the same for both cases.

If there's no genetic cause, then usually it's environmental.

I haven't heard of a case of Fanconi syndrome since lead pipes were banned.

Well, some herbal remedies can have the same effect, can't they?

Wasn't his mother into that kind of thing?

Well, that wouldn't explain the damage to Colin Connor.

-Shouldn't you be, er...?

-You owe me.

-# BACH: Cello Suite No.

-1 - Prelude

Hi. Thanks. Do you know if there's a seating plan?

-It's just over there, madam.

-Thank you.

MUSIC PLAYING

LOW CHATTER

Dr Alexander?

James Embleton. You won't remember me.

Lord Embleton.

You do remember!

None of this "Lord" stuff. Call me James.

Call me Nikki.

I met your boss yesterday.

I'm standing in for him now.

I am so glad.

-Really?

-I wanted to give you my card at that weekend thing,

but you'd already left. I was in that lecture of yours

when the old man in the second row asked a pointless question.

Everybody groaned, and you could have slapped him down

but instead you turned it around and made him feel clever.

SHE CHUCKLES

Ever since then I've been looking for an excuse to meet you again.

Why do you need an excuse?

Yes. Why do I?

TEXT ALERT

Excuse me.

I'll have to run over to the House. My boss needs me to vote.

You have a boss?

Until there's a freelance Minister of Science, that's the way it is.

Could I ask you for your phone number?

Can't make the same mistake twice.

KEYPAD BEEPING

I see you're sitting next to Dr Corder.

-Mm-hm.

-Try not to stare at his wonky eye.

LAUGHS

SIGHS

You really ought to go there.

I mean, we went there for our last holiday

and, er...I mean, the trick is to leave early.

Course, we stop at the service stations on the way up

but it's never the same if you don't get a good run.

-TEXT ALERT

-That's the thing.

-The thing is...

-I'm so sorry.

This is work. I'm going to have to deal with it. Sorry.

-Oh, that's perfectly OK.

-Lovely to meet you.

-Nice to meet you.

-And you.

Anyway, as I was saying...

He does not have a wonky eye.

Really? My mistake.

Shall we?

So, you weren't born a lord?

It was a dodge, really, to bring me into the government,

which was never my ambition.

But when they call you to serve, what can you do?

I guess a title will get you a table at any fancy restaurant.

Those aren't even the kind of restaurants I like.

So, are you happy? I mean, are you happy with the work you're doing?

Why wouldn't I be?

I heard your keynote speech at the conference.

You're a proper scientist.

All the politics must get in the way, doesn't it?

I can make a difference in other ways.

God, I couldn't do that.

Advising people who choose the truths they want to hear.

I'd be tearing my hair out.

-You've met my bosses.

-I've met people like them.

We all serve our separate masters,

right up to the one at the top who serves his private demons,

and that's politics in a nutshell.

-Sounds very cynical.

-It's a cynical world.

It doesn't have to be.

Anyone who thinks that needs a lesson in hard reality.

I have to prepare for a coroner's report tomorrow, for a teenaged boy

with a glioblastoma that spread to his brainstem.

That's my...hard reality.

Shit.

Look, if this is about the old van,

I had a good reason for not reporting it stolen.

Go on.

It wasn't worth it to me. It was a clapped-out piece of junk.

I'd have got buttons and all my other premiums would have shot up.

-So, who took it?

-I don't know.

Someone broke into the yard one bank holiday weekend.

Someone was using your van to steal scrap metal from a derelict building.

You don't think I had anything to do with that, do you?

-Well, you have got a record.

-Yeah, from way back!

God Almighty! I were all but a kid!

And I've got responsibilities now.

I got the contract for all the sheltered housing in the borough. Do you think I'm going to risk that?

All right, calm down, Brian.

The thief was unlucky. He got trapped in the roof.

The keys to your van were in his pocket.

And he wasn't alone.

Someone knew he was up there and did nothing.

Took him best part of a week to die.

It was a pretty nasty way to go.

It were nothing to do with me.

Derren?

SIREN WAILING OUTSIDE

Derren!

Why did you lie to me about Colin?

I didn't.

He's not lying low in Newcastle.

He's only on a slab in the bloody morgue.

-Did you know about this?

-No.

Don't do this to me, Derren. Please.

This is important.

Why are you shouting at me?

Don't you get it? Colin's dead!

God, Derren! What's the matter with you? You're asleep half the time,

-then you do something like this?

-I didn't do anything!

Did he make you go there with him?

Were you thieving wire again with my van?

Oi! Come here!

Derren! If you were there, they'll find out!

Just tell me the bloody truth!

Let me help you, son. Please.

I don't get you, Derren! I don't get you at all!

And I'm sick of covering for you!

BEEP

How did it go?

Tom Hancock wouldn't keep quiet. The ushers had to take him outside.

What, he missed his own son's inquest?

Well, the Coroner let him back in once he'd calmed down.

-Odd, though, isn't it?

-What?

You found small cell tumours in the lungs,

and glioblastoma invaded the brainstem,

and then there's the Fanconi syndrome.

So, what are you getting at?

Well, that's two separate synchronous primaries,

one of which is vanishingly rare in children.

And the Fanconi syndrome, that's also rare.

And also present in the Brimstead Fields case.

Are you suggesting they're related?

Can I show you two something?

I think Brian Blackburn knows more than he's saying.

So I got the ID photos of his staff on the sheltered housing project.

I've been comparing the faces to our subject. No good.

No good. And then...

Nikki, what do you think?

Well, we should get a 3-D scan and do it properly. But you're right.

That's a good match.

Colin Connor had been working under a false name,

and I'm sure Brian Blackburn knew.

SIREN WAILING OUTSIDE

BEEPS

Official business?

Unofficial. I wanted to give you this.

I don't need an apartment.

I'm not suggesting you move there. It's my project.

-I wanted you to see it.

-Why?

Because it's something that means a lot to me,

and I don't think I made a very good impression the last time we met.

I was going to send flowers, but... well, you know. To a morgue?

"Zero footprint living"?

The project is a showpiece for the future of housing.

But with real people living in it.

I may not be doing the science in the lab,

but this is something I can achieve.

You might recognise the building.

Where the man fell from the ceiling.

Yeah, that's not in the prospectus.

LAUGHS

-Well, if I read it, will it make you happy?

-I'm serious.

Your opinion matters to me.

I don't know what you're worried about. My opinion of you is fine.

We're having this.

And we're having those too.

KNOCKING AT DOOR

BOLT CLICKS

DOOR CREAKS

What have you done?

I didn't kill anyone.

Yeah, but you just left him there. Why?

He was always pushing me.

He said we were mates, but we only ever did what he wanted to do.

That's no reason to let someone die.

It's not my fault he got stuck.

Whenever I was in trouble, he'd just laugh at me.

Did you touch anything? Did you leave anything behind?

What are you going to tell 'em?

Just keep quiet.

As long as they don't find anything, we should be all right.

All right?

DOOR SLAMS

DEPARTING FOOTSTEPS

-I thought maybe you didn't find the note.

-On page 15.

-So, you read that far.

-I'll be honest. I skimmed.

-Thanks for the second chance.

-Thanks for waiting.

-Sorry, sir, authorised personnel only.

-Yeah, I just want to speak to Professor Dalton.

-You'll need to make an appointment.

-Professor Dalton!

You will have to make an appointment with him.

It's Tom! I just want to speak to you!

Stop, sir. Get your hands off me.

-I just want to speak to Professor Dalton.

-OK, OK. I'll deal with this. Thank you.

-Are you sure?

-Yeah.

Tom? What are you doing?

The inquest was a farce, and you weren't even there!

I approved Dr Alexander's report.

If I'm a witness at the court case,

I cannot be the pathologist of record.

Someone knows what's happening,

and there's people dying because of it!

It's been going on for years,

and it will keep on until somebody puts a stop to it!

-Tom. You're not helping your case.

-They wouldn't even look at my evidence.

A coroner's court is an inquest. It is not an inquiry.

-It's the who, what, where and when.

-But not why!

If there's damage, something did it. It's common sense!

Common sense isn't evidence.

They wouldn't let me show my evidence.

I look at facts, I see patterns.

I'm not an expert. But that doesn't make me a crank.

-Nobody is calling you a crank.

-But that's what they think!

And you know what? I wouldn't care, as long as they look.

No-one will do me the courtesy of at least telling me that I'm wrong.

Well, let me.

Here.

OK.

A fair reading. That's...that's all I ask.

Thank you.

-I'm sorry about all the...

-It's all right.

Ah, been fanning the flames of romance?

It was a civilised lunch. Good food, good company.

-And he was the perfect gentleman.

-Or just slow off the mark.

A guy needs clear signals to proceed.

I'll bear traffic lights in mind next time.

Tom Hancock thinks that he's detected

a disease cluster based around power lines.

He's wrong, but give him credit.

There is something going on in the area.

Any random distribution has natural clusters in it.

True. But I downloaded this data from the Department of Health.

It's local cases of renal disease over the last five years.

Now, the national occurrence is ten per 100,000.

But in this area it's far higher.

And neither Colin Connor nor Peter Hancock

have Fanconi syndrome in their family history.

So, what if the kidney damage had a different cause?

Such as exposure to toxic heavy metals.

For example, mercury, cadmium, they'd trigger the same symptoms.

-As would asbestos.

-Or weedkiller.

And look at the way that the pattern spreads.

It's a classic ground-water plume.

So, what do you want us to do?

Take bone marrow samples from Peter and Colin.

If there's toxic metal there, that's where you'll find it.

Heavy metal poisoning didn't kill Peter Hancock.

So, maybe there's something else there.

I've tried to get the local water and soil figures

but my request has been "referred for approval".

I mean, I thought this was public information.

What are they trying to hide?

-You all right, sir?

-How you doing, Rachel?

The architects have asked if they can move their meeting to tomorrow.

The Minister wants to see you at 4:30.

And there's a David Loader waiting to see you.

-David who?

-David Loader.

We work for some of the same people.

I'll be shadowing your department for a while.

Can we talk?

You'd better not be playing Angry Birds on that.

Ha-ha. I'm looking for a local vet.

A vet? Why?

Well, a ground-water plume spreads from a source.

So, either we drive all over the county taking samples,

or we can look for a hot spot.

If there's contamination in the land,

the people most likely to see the effects are local farmers.

There speaks a country boy. LAUGHS

-Why a vet?

-Cos I know farmers. They'll tell you nothing.

-LOADER: How well do you know Professor Dalton?

-Dalton?

-Leo Dalton.

Hardly at all. I...I think I met him once.

As well as sending those e-mails,

he made a search of Health Department records

using the Lyell Centre's IP address.

Both enquiries put a flag up.

Why?

One of my responsibilities is to make sure that this particular

sleeping dog is allowed to lie.

So, with respect, Minister,

do us both a favour and please don't ask again.

Can I at least know who set the flag?

That was done a long time ago.

Seriously, James, it's no big thing.

And certainly nothing you can hope to deal with.

Kristen?

It is Kristen, isn't it?

Can we have the available information on Professor Dalton, please?

The Lyell uses university servers.

OK, thank you.

I'll put a watch on their e-mail traffic.

-Can we do that?

-Yes, we can.

I'll be in touch.

Thank you very much. You've been really helpful.

Thanks again. Take care. Bye-bye.

That a lady vet?

-How could you tell?

-At least one of you was flirting.

She's only just taken over the practice

from a partner who retired after 35 years.

He told her a story from back in the '70s,

when he'd been drafted in

to put down an entire herd of healthy cattle.

Floods had taken down the fences

and they'd strayed onto forestry land.

He said the Ministry sent out people to supervise him,

and the Army burned all the carcasses after.

The place is just up the road.

Now what?

Fetch your kit.

Mind the barbed wire. DOORS BEEP

Yeah, that'll do.

Yep.

The place has been stripped out over the years.

Someone's been in and stolen all the lead and copper.

-Stand your ground! Don't move!

-Don't move!

-What's going on?

-Don't move, sir! Stay where you are!

-Holy shit! What the hell?

-Jack! Jack! Calm down.

Are you mad? We're using live ammunition here! You don't ignore the signs!

There were no signs!

I'm Leo Dalton. I'm a forensic pathologist

working at the Lyell Centre.

You can check it with the Home Office.

-What are you doing here?

-My job! What are you doing?

This is a live firing exercise, Professor.

I don't know how you got in here.

But I'm going to need your cooperation while I remove you from the field of fire.

-Is this Army land?

-By arrangement with the landowner.

Come on, then. Let's go. Hurry up.

-Can you believe...? Unbelievable.

-This way, sir.

-There you go, sir.

-Climb in, gents. Mind your heads.

Sit tight. I'll have you out as soon as it's clear.

Where's your kit?

They've got it.

-Oh, hi.

-Hey.

So, this is it, the Embleton empire.

More or less.

Where is everyone?

Ran off and left me.

-So, you wanted to talk to me, face to face.

-I did.

So, I'm here.

If it's about the crime scene holding up your development,

I can't really give you a timescale.

It...it's not that.

Well, what is it, then?

This afternoon I've had six meetings, made about 30 phone calls,

organised four events designed to convince people

-of how much important work my department does...

-Mm-hm?

..and do you know what thought has been running through

my addled brain the entire time?

Not really.

Sorry about the time it's taken. Had to wait for the all-clear.

There you are, sir.

DOORS BEEP

-Don't wipe your feet.

-What?

-I need your shoes.

-Oh!

They had two hours to mess with my samples while we sat in the van.

But if that soil is contaminated, we might have enough here.

-I feel so bad for you, Jack.

-Why?

You finally talk a co-worker out of their pants,

and it's the Professor.

SNORTS

Useful?

Dad!

It's for you.

-Who is it?

-Professor Dalton?

George Ryder.

I understand that you were the last owner of Brimstead Farm.

Oh. It's taken you long enough to call me back.

We haven't spoken before.

It's about them building on the old convalescent home?

Cos if that land's good enough to build on, I've been lied to.

I got your details from the Farmers Union.

But I do want to hear what you have to say.

-Who are you?

-Professor Dalton from the Lyell Centre.

What's wrong with that land, Mr Ryder?

-What do you think?

-Who is she?

Nikki Alexander. She's a doctor.

-Huh. That'll be handy.

-A pathologist.

Oh, I don't need one of them yet.

A forensic pathologist.

She's one of the team on the Brimstead Fields murder.

Well, maybe she'll be able to

put a stop to that cockeyed development plan.

You don't like her?

I don't much like the sound of her.

No.

Mm.

Don't like the sound of her.

I called. I made an appointment.

I'm sorry, but Lord Embleton isn't here yet.

Mr Ryder?

Your appointment's with me.

I call and write letters, and no-one wants to know me.

I say I'll speak to this Professor Dalton,

-and suddenly I've got your attention.

-What can I do for you?

-Who am I talking to?

-We're on the same side.

I was told nothing could be done with that land. Any of it. Ever.

The development is a mistake. It was never supposed to happen.

-So, are they going to build on it, or not?

-I don't know.

But your situation doesn't change.

Well, that's not good enough for me.

Please don't do that.

If it's all right to build on Brimstead Fields,

I want the proper value of my farm.

Not the pittance I was given when they told me it was worth nothing.

-Do you get that?

-I understand.

This Lord Embleton, as he calls himself,

you tell him I can make an awful lot of trouble for him if I choose.

A big load of trouble.

Mr Ryder. Go home and wait for us to call.

This will be dealt with.

Nobody wants trouble.

Least of all a man of your age.

Professor Dalton? My information has a value.

If they won't look after me, I'll take it to someone who will.

Well, can we meet? I have your address.

No, no, no. That's my daughter's house. Keep her out of this.

-What are you afraid of?

-I'm not afraid.

But I keep my word, and I don't like it when others don't keep theirs.

First it was Brimstead Farm, now it's Brimstead Fields.

I know why it's been closed all these years. Look.

I'll meet you there

and I'll tell you what they don't want you to hear.

CROWS CAW

George?

Mr Ryder?

George!

George?

-LOUD KNOCKING

-Police! Open the door!

You can't let them in here, Dad.

You got three seconds, Brian!

-Who are you and how did you get in here?

-David Loader.

Look very closely at George Ryder when he comes in.

I don't think Derren Blackburn killed him.

Leo's giving himself a hard time over the Peter Hancock case.

He's pushing for answers that probably aren't there.

-You don't have to know everything.

-LEO: That's the hangman's fracture.

-Send her out.

-Dad!

-I want to speak to my son in private.

That is the same shape as Brimstead Wood.

-Professor Dalton.

-Jennifer.

It's not a friendly visit, Professor.

We're on dangerous ground here, Jack.

# Testator silens

# Costestes e spiritu

# Silentium... #

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