"The Government is coming under increasing pressure to take urgent action to reduce the soaring cost of food." "The latest Food Price Index indicates that many food commodities on international markets have doubled in value in the last six months, reflected by rocketing prices." "A group of backbench MPs have called for an emergency..." "We're closed." "We're closed!" "What?" "No, look, we're closed, what are you doing?" "Come here a minute." "You had this." "Where is it?" "What's the matter with you?" "I just said we're close..." "Oh, no." "Oh, no..." "I sold it, I have." "Oh, no." "Oh, no." "Who?" "Er..." "That's..." "That's all I've got, honest." "Can I go?" "Can I just go, please?" "Not yet." "It's OK." "This'll just make you sleep is all." "What?" "Really?" "Where is Jessica Hyde?" "Who..." "Who's she?" "Where is Jessica Hyde?" "Is..." "Is she a customer?" "Because if she's a customer, I can find her, I can find her on the..." "Where is Jessica Hyde?" "I'm thinking so hard." "I really am, I just..." "I don't know that name." "No, I..." "It's just gas." "You've got to sleep." "I'm gasping." "I'll light it outside." "Don't put the gas away yet." "I mean, the thing is... it's a comic." "No, it's a graphic novel." "It's called The Utopia Experiments." "It's about a scientist who makes a deal with the devil for knowledge." "And the devil appears in a number of guises, but always as an animal-human hybrid, most notably a rabbit..." "A rabbit?" "Yeah." "Oh, so he's in it, then?" "The guy that wrote this, it's about him?" "Hardly original, I mean Bukowski." "Hmm." "His name was Mark Dane." "He was a delusional paranoid schizophrenic." "He spent two years in a mental institution called Shenley, where he wrote this and then killed himself, which... adds to the conspiracy." "It can be linked to BSE, the assassination of Indira Gan..." "Conspiracy's not really very now." "Are you saying that you think this is real?" "Because that's a bit..." "Can I actually say what I want to say?" "!" "No-one's attacking you, Becky." "You studied medicine." "Up until May, you were on course to be a doctor, so... why the sudden change?" "My father died." "My father had a degenerative illness called Deel's syndrome, where his entire body shut down." "His fingers, arms, legs, hands, until all that was left was his throat, and when that stopped working, he suffocated to death." "Becky, no-one is attacking you..." "Look, are you going to fucking fund this or what?" "!" "I mean, look at you!" "I've had a look at your website." "You've got people doing PhDs in..." "Star Wars and Doctor fucking Who!" "Martin needs the RDS sheets." "I'm doing that, I'm just..." "No, you're not, you're messing about on forums." "I'm not messing around on forums." "He needs these before Frankfurt." "Why aren't you doing them?" "Because it's so tedious it's making my eyes bleed." "You think you're so much better than everyone else." "No." "I think we're all morons." "Just... fucking do it, Ian!" "I mean..." "if you've got any questions, ask." "Actually, I..." "I do have one question." "Martin's penis." "Is that a meaty taste, or is it more salty?" "Very witty, Ian, so smart." "Or do you just not think of that and get on with the job in hand?" "Yeah, well, I've got a joke for you." "You're 28 years old and you still live at home with your mum." "Ha!" "That's a laugh!" "Wilson Wilson..." "Jesus Christ, Grant." "780 members, and it has to be Grant." "Becky, Becky, Becky..." "Hello, Becky." "Jesus Christ..." "Hi, hon!" "Michael?" "Where are you?" "Are you OK?" "Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm fine, I'm, eh at work!" "I'll be a little late." "You sound a little bit out of kilter." "No, I'm fine, Jen." "D-Department of Health politics is all." "I love you." "Yeah, course you do." "Idiot." "And are you..." "OK about tomorrow?" "About the clinic?" "What?" "Yeah, of course." "I have a good feeling this time." "Heh..." "Look, I'd better go." "You get my whore pregnant." "You want your wife to know?" "You want your minister to know?" "Look, look..." "I-I'm not anyone, I'm just a civil servant." "Senior civil servant." "You're private secretary to the minister." "Important." "No." "No, no, no, no, no, no, you're wrong, I'm no-one." "Shut your fucking shit mouth!" "You think I care about you or your bitch wife?" "You do a mission for me, yeah?" "Mission?" "What are you...?" "You get my whore pregnant, you think this is game?" "We play game, spy game." "I have friends." "Do mission for my friends, yeah?" "You do what we say or I fuck your life." "And then there's the secondary-care waiting times for cancer patients." "We'll have to set those on the..." "No, no, that's medical." "Let Deidra set those in consultation with the GMC." "Sure?" "Cancer makes the papers." "Geoff won't be happy." "Oh, bollocks to Geoff." "And, of course, there's this meeting with Corvadt tomorrow." "Oh, Christ." "Conran Letts himself, no less." "He'll just to try and flog me that bloody Russian flu vaccine." "I'll have to take Michael with me or I won't understand a fucking word." "Michael." "A penny for your thoughts." "Shit, vaccines!" "That reminds me, we've got to get the updated rubella before GPs start griping." "I'll get you that to you today, Michael." "That's me, Joe." "Funeral, is it?" "You're not wearing black." "You get serious about this job, Ian!" "Not everything's beneath you!" "And then we extract sequenced polymorphic loci from the patient, put it through an amplified testing process using PCR." "Very exciting." "Well, yes, that is very..." "But we still have over 20 million shots of Tamiflu for the swine flu that never hit." "Russian flu's been around forever." "Michael." "According to our research, the H1N1 pathogen in this new strain is about to mutate and will have the potential for mortality rates in the hundreds of thousands." "We've made a thorough report." "And we don't agree with it." "Neither does the WHO or the Geneva Medical Institute." "Look, food prices are rocketing, there are riots on the streets of Sydney." "No-one's thinking about flu." "Bloody Geoff." "So sorry, Sir Conran." "You should persuade him to take it." "You should make it your mission." "M-My mission?" "It's your mission." "This word mean something to you, Dugdale?" "All of us have a mission in life." "This is yours." "Understand?" "Do you fucking understand your mission?" "Sorry." "Did I miss anything?" "Oi!" "What do you think you're doing?" "!" "That's my car!" "Come on, then." "Come on, then!" "What?" "Are you joking?" "What are you...?" "What are you talking about, you little shit?" "Sorry, mate." "What's the matter with you?" "I'm twice your size, for Christ's sake." "Sorry." "Mate..." "I'm just..." "I'm just a piece of shit." "Well, don't start..." "I'm sorry." "You're not a piece of..." "You just shouldn't be doing this." "That's my car." "Shake, yeah?" "Who's shit now, mate?" "Oh, you fucking animal!" "You're the shit now, innit, mate?" "!" "I meant to ask you about the PSF on clinical data." "I'm in a hurry, can Tony...?" "Sure." "I've got an appointment later, but I'll..." "Now... what about the vaccine?" "Should we order the vaccine?" "The new rubella?" "Yes, definitely." "Do it today, I'm not here tomorrow, and there's a price increase factored in if..." "No." "Russian flu." "I've looked at the projections again, and..." "I think we could reconsider." "What are you talking about?" "Russian flu?" "!" "I might as well put a fucking gun to my head!" "Christ, what's the matter with you?" "Hello." "Becky..." "Wilson Wilson?" "Are you Wilson Wilson?" "Well, why aren't you wearing blue?" "Don't look good in blue." "What?" "Got it!" "Does anyone else know you had that?" "Just some friends." "Not friends, just on... on a forum, friends on a forum." "It's there, on my computer, I can get it for you." "No Bejan, no Grant." "Do you think we got the right place?" "Funny, seeing each other like this." "I didn't expect you to be pretty, Becky." "Thank you, Wilson..." "I think." "And you, Ian, I didn't expect you to be..." "Tall?" "No, black." "What do you do, Becky?" "I'm applying for a PhD." "Believe me, it's not important or interesting." "Worried I'm too thick to get it?" "Yes, I am." "What do you do?" "Well, think of the least interesting thing you can think of." "IT." "Oh, no fucking way!" "Way fucking way." "I also live with my mum." "Jesus Christ, you're gonna make me cry now, Ian!" "What happened?" "I don't know." "I really don't know." "Where is Jessica Hyde?" "Who's that?" "I don't..." "Where is Jessica Hyde?" "Look..." "I don't know who that is!" "Look, just..." "Look, do you want money?" "I've got money." "I can give you money." "Where... is..." "Jessica" "Hyde?" "I honestly... have no idea who you're talking about." "Ah!" "Ah!" "Where is it?" "Just about to raise the contracts for the vaccine." "Just need you to sign off and then it's all systems go." "The rubella?" "Yeah." "Great." "Did it go OK today?" "Oh, Geoff wants my job." "It was OK." "Are you all right, Michael?" "Everything at home all right?" "You just seem a bit, erm..." "We're doing IVF." "Jen can't conceive." "I don't know what to do." "I can't talk about this just now, Greg." "Greg, I think if I speak I might... crack." "OK." "OK." "I understand." "If you need to take some time?" "I don't." "Thank you." "But..." "I don't." "You're actually saying that the tsunami that killed, what, hundreds of thousands was the American military testing a weapon?" "You're fucking mental, Wilson." "It's called a tsunami bomb." "A strategically placed nuke on the seabed." "Technology has existed since World War II." "You're fucking mental, Wilson!" "Think about it." "We're living on a planet with dwindling resources." "Do you watch the news, Ian?" "Jesus Christ!" "Wilson, if just one of the conspiracy theories was proved..." "What about Utopia then?" "Oh, don't start all of that Nostradamus crap." "Tell him, Becky." "I don't believe it, as such." "But there are some things in it that are a bit odd." "What?" "Oh, Becky, Becky, Becky!" "How can you believe any of that?" "You!" "Why are you into it then?" "Well... for the artwork." "The stories, the sheer imaginative vision." "It's like opening a door into another world." "I don't need to diminish it by pretending it's real." "It's opening a door all right, but what you don't realise is that it is opening the door to reality." "What does that even mean, Wilson?" "I don't know." "I'm a bit drunk." "Oh!" "Last orders." "No sign of Bejan or Grant." "Let's go back to mine and drink until we can't feel our legs." "Who's the little bitch then, son?" "Does she know you're a bag of puke?" "Sure does, Dad." "After all, I came out of your withered testicles." "Your dad's madder than you!" "Well, he called me Wilson, didn't he?" "So Wilson Wilson's your real name?" "What did you use all this stuff for?" "Expunging all trace of myself from the World Wide Web." "I have, over the past five years, using various international laws, data protection acts and internet know-how, wiped all trace of me from the world." "No bank account, no bills, driver's licence, nothing." "Every IP address here is masked and encrypted to avoid detection." "I'm invisible." "You do know you've used your real name on our forum, right?" "Who'd believe that's a real name?" "I can lower my heart rate, pick locks and, if I was handcuffed to a radiator, I could escape by dislocating both my thumbs." "Why?" "Look out your window, Ian." "When the shit hits, Wilson Wilson will not..." "Oh!" "Slivovitz!" "Brilliant!" "It's Polish." "It will make us go blind." "Do you want to see my nuclear fallout shelter?" "Wilson!" "Wilson." "Wilson Wilson!" "Gone." "He's gone!" "Well, erm..." "I guess that means we're alone, Ian." "Stay." "Ow!" "Shit." "Sorry." "I'm so drunk." "Ah!" "Ow!" "Ah!" "Ah!" "Fuck!" "Sorry." "Sorry." "Ah!" "Are you OK?" "OK." "Wait." "Wait." "What?" "WHAT?" "What?" "Um..." "My penis isn't working." "It's a disaster." "Ssh!" "Are you a friend of Bejan Chervo's?" "We found Bejan dead this morning." "Can't be 100%, but it looks like he's jumped from his balcony window." "Like... suicide?" "Are you OK?" "Would you like some tea?" "I don't drink tea." "Caffeine was invented by the CIA." "Did he leave a note?" "No note." "But...he's dead?" "Would you like some water?" "No." "Can I have some water, please?" "What makes you think it was suicide?" "He had a history of depression stretching back years." "So..." "What?" "!" "No, he didn't." "He did." "Look, sometimes people..." "Listen to me." "I knew Bejan, all right?" "He was not depressed." "Medical records don't lie." "Gotcha!" "I've got you this time, eh?" "Who's the shit now, eh?" "Who's the shit now?" "Get off me!" "You're not going anywhere, mate." "Ahhh!" "Fuck!" "You little shit!" "You little fucker!" "Michael, this is for Russian Flu." "What, are we getting that?" "It's all signed off, isn't it?" "Yeah, but I mean..." "Do you want to check?" "I mean, once we're contractually obliged..." "Just put the fucking thing in, Bev!" "I hope you've been paying attention." "There'll be a test at the end." "Pens at the ready, brains switched on." "Can I help you?" "That's Grant Leetham, Miss." "He's in our class." "The police are here, Grant." "A man was very seriously hurt today." "Do you know anything about this?" "Look, Grant, I want to help you." "If you're mixed up in something..." "Well, if you won't talk to me..." "Come in, gentlemen." "It's all right, Grant." "It's policemen." "They're not going to bite." "Too high this time; we checked." "Listen, I know this is serious, but if he's sorry, perhaps we could talk to the gentleman involved?" "He is only 11 and there are circumstances at home." "Jesus Christ!" "All right, Rejane?" "Tel?" "Ian Johnson?" "I'm Detective Inspector Leeman, this is DC Keatly." "I'm arresting you under the Sexual Offences Act 2003 on suspicion of rape of a child under the age of 13, assault of a child under the age of 13 by penetration and inflicting grievous bodily harm with intent." "A guilty plea, first offence, not on the register, maybe six to eight years." "You'll serve four." "Maybe." "Reduced?" "But..." "but I'm innocent." "Ian, they've taken three samples of your DNA." "The chance of error is one in ten billion." "There aren't that many people on the planet." "We have your DNA." "Jesus Christ." "Jesus Christ." "Am I free?" "Am I free?" "Still a suspect." "Why is my brother still a suspect?" "We were at a wedding, for Christ's sake." "There's hundreds of witnesses." "Hiya." "Hi." "How are you?" "Terrible." "I was arrested yesterday and I spent the night in a cell." "They said I was connected to some kind of child porn thing." "I was arrested as well." "Sexual assault." "They had my DNA." "Ian, do you think you could come back here please?" "Why?" "Wilson Wilson, he left me a message." "Bejan killed himself." "I don't want you to write this up." "Jesus Christ." "What I'm about to tell you, don't write it up, promise me." "All right, I won't write it up." "Bejan wasn't depressed." "Look, it's not unusual for people like that to keep things quiet." "According to his medical records, he was on Mirtazepine last August." "How do you know his medical records?" "I looked at the code his records were written in." "It's something called HL7." "Well, a new patch was released for HL7 12 days ago." "Bejan's records go back to the '90s and yet they have this correction." "You've just committed a crime." "Don't you see?" "His entire medical history was written within the last two weeks." "I'm supposed to arrest you now." "Which is why I'm telling you I knew Bejan, we were friends..." "I know you're upset your friend's just died." "But you need to go home now before I change my mind." "Don't make the report, please." "I mean, if they can do that..." "Now!" "I've got to tell you some stuff." "You better sit." "I think this is about Utopia and Mark Dane, the man that wrote it." "Last year, I spoke to a nurse who worked at Shenley when Mark Dane was there." "She said he was a model patient, quiet, and they thought he must have been some kind of geneticist but by the time they got to him, his brain was fried." "The only time he was ever trouble was when they tried to give him a new brand of drug and he went psycho." "Hospitalised three men." "The drugs were made by a company called Corvadt." "So?" "Right, in 2008, a researcher at Berkeley called Norton wrote a paper into a new disease called Deel's Syndrome." "It's like Huntington's." "It's a neurodegenerative disorder where the entire body shuts down." "And it's hereditary." "But what Norton discovered is that Deel's has no genetic history whatsoever." "It's not present in parents, relatives, nothing." "It's like it just popped into existence in 1986." "– Is that possible?" "No!" "Not really, no." "So he thought that Deel's must have been a man-made disease." "So he looked into the patients' backgrounds for a common denominator." "Nothing." "Except for one thing." "They'd all at some point worked for Corvadt." "Why do you know all this?" "It's an image of the genetic mutation in Deel's." "Fuck." "Hang on..." "So, what... if Dane was a geneticist, maybe he saw this somewhere, drew it into Utopia." "Yeah, only Utopia was published 1985 and this mutation didn't actually exist until 1989." "No way." "Fuck this." "I mean..." "What has this got to do with me?" "Ian, please..." "I was in prison." "They put me in a cell, they... they accused me of rape." "I think they're after the manuscript." "Utopia Part Two." "There must be something in it that they want." "Who the fuck are you?" "Why do you know this?" "Because... my dad had Deel's." "He died of it." "It killed him." "Look, do you want to sleep in there?" "I mean, just sleep?" "I'll take the chair." "What do you want?" "I found out where Bejan got the manuscript – Doomsday Comics." "I looked it up online." "Christ." "What time is it?" "6:45." "Sorry." "Were you asleep?" "What do you want?" "You." "... controversial decision to spend £83 million on a vaccine for Russian flu." "The Shadow Health Secretary branded the decision beyond madness." "The Public Health Minister, Greg Ashby, hasn't been available for comment, but speculation is mounting over the future..." "Out!" "Out, everyone!" "He..." "I asked if he wanted the vaccine." "He said yes." "He signed off on it." "I thought he wanted it." "He..." "He signed." "He's fucking resigning, Michael." "He's fucking losing his job!" "Do you think he's got it?" "Grant Latham's got it." "Still... all this stuff." "There's no trace of him online." "People don't tend to hide for no reason." "He might know something." "I'm..." "I'm going to cooperate." "Whatever you want." "I am going to cooperate..." "Argh!" "Most torturers tend to have their favourite areas of the body to work on." "Genitals, teeth... soles of the feet." "With me... it's the eyes." "chillies, sand, bleach." "A spoon." "Is this about Utopia?" "I'd didn't even know Bejan." "I'm going to rub chillies into your eyes, then sand, then bleach." "Then I'm going to use the spoon." "Do you know what I do with the spoon?" "Where is Jessica Hyde?" "I don't know who that is." "Can you still speak?" "Wilson?" "I've got sand now, Wilson." "Where is Jessica Hyde?" "I swear to Christ I don't know who that is." "I've no idea." "Argh!" "Argh!" "Argh!" "I've got the bleach now." "Where is Jessica Hyde?" "She's..." "I've got her address." "I can give you her address." "Let me..." "No, no, no!" "I've got the spoon now, Wilson." "Calm, calm, calm down." "My mate is going to ask you a question." "Where... is Jessica Hyde?" "She's dead." "She died." "It was an accident." "She died." "He doesn't know anything." "What about all this?" "He just... likes this stuff." "You finish here." "I've got to get back." "I need a fag." "Hello." "I'm Geoff." "It's never nice taking over in these circumstances but just for the record, there will be no shake up." "Greg was doing good work." "I'd like that to continue." "So let's carry on." "We'll get through this and... well, do good work." "Uh..." "Michael, could you just come with me, please?" "You raised the contracts." "And you got Greg to sign off on it." "Now, the buck stops with the Minister, it always does, but privately he tells me he thought he was signing the contract for rubella." "No." "I don't know why he thinks that." "How is your wife, is she good?" "It's an ill wind." "I need someone like you, someone smart, someone who knows to do the right things." "What's it they say?" "Mission accomplished." "It's 9:45." "It should be open." "Argh..." "They're all dead." "It was a gas leak." "Four of them." "One was a kid." "Hello?" "Jesus Christ!" "Oh, my God!" "Jesus Christ." "Is that a gun?" "Have you got a gun?" "Just go." "Ian, he needs the hospital." "Get out of here now." "No, no hospital." "No police." "They'll kill me." "They could find us anywhere." "Look, just go." "Just go now." "They kept asking me the same question." "Where's Jessica Hyde?" "Where's Jessica Hyde?" "Who's Jessica Hyde?" "My dad." "What about my dad?" "We'll call him or something." "Ian, how do I look?" "I'm sorry, Michael." "I'm so, so sorry." "I've done all I can for his eye." "Ian, he really needs a doctor." "I mean, I just studied it." "Don't answer." "Don't answer!" "Hello." "I'm Jessica Hyde."