The Oxford Murders Page #7

There's a mixture|of the desire for vengeance

and the much stronger desire|to belong

to your world. He wants you|to accept him, Seldom.

He's trying to please you,

as if he was in the first stages|of falling in love.

The psychologist

thinks the murderer is a repressed|homosexual who lives alone.

Bad cut.|You should have that seen to.

I don't know what the hell...

At least you didn't tip a pot of|boiling coffee over your trousers.

I'm an expert|at that, believe me.

If you want,|we can carry on later.

Yes, that might be an idea.

Don't you think|you're exaggerating a bit?

The police are open|to all sorts of hypotheses.

Right now any formulation|can be valid for them.

You sound like Seldom.

He's right, for God's sakes.|I could be a suspect, too!

Yeah, like me.

Yes, like you, like everyone.

Don't let Seldom|get into your head, baby.

Cuz once he's in there,|there's no way of getting him out.

That's what happened to you, isn't|it? You're still in love with him.

That's not funny.

Sorry.

It's as if Seldom was everywhere,|it's a nightmare.

There's nothing I've done|that he hasn't done already,

and apparently much better

than me.

What do you want me to do?|To tell you

I prefer you and you f***|better than he did?

No. I want you to lie|and tell me I'm more intelligent.

Go to hell.

You know what pissed me off?

What pissed me off was knowing

that I wasn't the only one|at the table who'd f***ed you.

That was so long ago.

When you were thirteen, right?|He calls you

and you go running|like a little lapdog,

and all so he can|give you another kick.

Yeah, that's how I am.

Exactly like you.

Martin, I think|you'd better go now, really.

And until all this is over,

I really don't want to know|anything about you or Seldom.

You are a sh*t|like the rest of us.

We are mediocre,

and all mediocre people can do is...

get drunk and forget.

Leave me alone.

To the mediocre of this world!

To vulgarity

and stupidity!

Cambridge has kicked us|in the arse again!

What?

What are you looking at?

It's true, isn't it?

You should give up maths|and write children's stories

- instead!|- Calm down.

- Let's get out of here.|- One day

the Mad Hatter will come|out of his closet and assfuck

- the lot of you!|- Okay, come on.

What are you talking about?

What planet are you from,|bloody fool?

If you'd stopped|f***ing everyone in sight

and paid a bit of attention,|you'd have realized.

Henry Wilkins?|Who's Henry Wilkins?

He's Kennedy's assassin,|who do you think?

He's solved Bormat's Last Theorem?

At least that is the rumour.|He's giving

a demonstration|in the next three days,

in the theory of numbers|conference at Cambridge.

He's solved|the most f***ing difficult

mathematics problem|of the last 300 years.

And you know who should be there,|giving this demonstration?

Me!|Yuri Ivanovich Podorov!

You have a demonstration|of Bormat's Last Theorem?

No, of course I don't!

But I would have it, if your friend|Seldom had not stolen it from me.

Ah, so that's it...

It was me who deduced|that the Bormat conjecture

could not be solved without|Taniyama's formulation.

For every modular form,|there is an elliptic curve,

and for every elliptic curve|there is a modular form.

You're drunk.

Yes, I'm drunk!|But eight years ago I was not!

I went to Seldom,

explained to him,|asked him to help me

get into the theory|of numbers group at Cambridge,

and, do you know what|he said about my idea?

"It's absurd."

"It's absurd"!

And now, thanks to this|little bit of absurdity,

Henry Wilkins

will go down in history.

Apparently, he's been working

on Bormat in secret

- for seven years.|- Why in secret?

What do you mean why?

Because they stole it from me!|It was my idea!

But I tell you something:|they don't know how to do it.

There's a mistake in their approach.|They don't know how to do it.

But it hasn't been proved yet.

Don't contradict me.

You're on their side, aren't you?

You are all against me!|You are trying to steal my ideas!

You won't read my mind!

Help me! I'm being robbed!|Help me!

They're trying to kill me!

If you don't shut up,|I f***ing will kill you!

Easy, easy.

Bastards!

F***ing English and|their damned good manners.

When they f*** you,

they really f*** you.

Welcome to the party.

I gather nobody told you|about the dress code for this do?

Good old Guy Fawkes|was ahead of his time.

He tried to blow up Parliament

with the king, the lords and|the whole bloody government inside.

Since then, every November 6th,|we've had this civilized celebration

where we burn his image,

although nowadays|I'd be hard pushed to tell you

whether it's to commemorate|his failure or his brilliant idea.

Talking of conspirators...

No, don't look now, be discreet.

Sitting behind me,

a few rows back, is a tall black|gentleman. Do you remember him?

Yes.

He's been following me for 3 days|now. He's one of Petersen's men.

Is Petersen here as well?

Sitting to our right,

just there,|with his daughter.

There's something|I need to speak to you about.

It might be...

- Did you see him?|- Who?

Podorov.

He had something under his cape.

We're following a suspect|inside the palace.

I want all available men|inside here, now.

Podorov!

He's going up to the roof!

What are you doing here?|Who's with Seldom?

- I only want...|- Shut up

and stay on the ground.

What the hell's this?

Martin, you traitor.

"Bastards".

This guy's just a f***ing

clown.

Scott, what the hell are you|doing here? Get back on Seldom!

I'm on to it.

Let me through, please.|I'm a doctor.

You okay?

This man is dead.

Seems the cause|of death was asphyxia.

How could they have choked him,|up there, in front of everyone?

According to the doctor|who attended to him,

it was a spontaneous|respiratory arrest.

I've just spoken to Beth.

Apparently, the man's state|of health was somewhat delicate.

He was operated on a few years ago|for pulmonary emphysema.

By rights he should|have died some time ago.

With that problem,|if your breathing is obstructed,

you'd be dead|in a matter of seconds.

We have no evidence to indicate|that this was a murder.

Yes, we do.

The third symbol is a triangle!

Where did you find this?

It was found on the conductor's|music stand. The assassin

tore the words|"the third in the series"

from the program notes.

The circle, the fish,

and the triangle.|Well, it makes sense.

I've had enough of this.

I want you to tell me right now|exactly what you know.

Otherwise, I'm gonna have

to consider you|to be an accomplice, because

it's obvious that|you're withholding information.

I only have a rudimentary idea|of what his reasoning might be.

So what is it,

for Christ's sake?

Well, I think maybe this is

not the best time.

I don't believe it.

Fine, fine.|I'll get out here.

- Do you mind, Martin?|- No, don't worry about me.

I could use a walk.

Just don't walk|too far, all right?

Bastards.

In Cambridge preparations|are being made

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