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