Forthem, anything is betterthan nothing.
You're right.
But there's a good reason why I didn't.
I'm scared.
Scared?
This whole business terrifies me.
We're playing with symbols and puzzles,
but behind it all is the real world,
do you understand? It's about people's lives.
If we make a mistake in an equation, we rub it out, no problem.
But where life is concerned,
there's no turning back.
In the real world any decision,
however insignificant, has irreversible consequences.
At least, that's what life has taught me.
You're very young.
I've already paid a high price for my mistakes.
Keep this.
What is it?
It's the third symbol of the series.
You can do one of two things: You can open it now and have your answer
oryou can work out the solution yourself,
and prove you're not an idiot.
Thank you very much.
We're finished.
Thanks.
I'm glad to see you.
That was spectacular.
You should see it with the fireworks
- and everything... - What, here?
No. It's just a rehearsal forthe Guy Fawkes' day concert.
Guy Fawkes?
Remember, remember the fifth of November?
No, sorry, I don't remember.
And...
it'll be my last concert.
I'm taking your advice and getting out.
This "marvellous" city can be stifling.
It's too dismal.
I want to go somewhere with more light.
Spain or... maybe South America.
Beth, I want to apologize forwhat happened.
It was my fault. I needed help,
a little affection, you gave it to me and I spoiled it all.
You were going through a difficult time, I understand.
You're very sweet. So, you coming to the concert?
I'll be there.
Martin!
There's something else I need to tell you.
I spoke with Petersen and maybe I said more than I should have.
Why?
He began to ask me some questions about you.
Me?
He wanted to know
why you chose my house in particular.
What did you tell him?
The truth.
That you're obsessed with everything there is to do with Seldom.
You told him what?
I didn't think it was important.
I'm sure you're not going to deny that you're obsessed with him.
What are you talking about?
He also asked me...
if... there was any relationship between the two of us.
- And you said... - I told him what happened.
What happened? Nothing!
Exactly, that's what I told him, nothing happened.
Okay, okay... You'd have been better off not saying anything at all.
I know, and...
as soon as I said it I regretted it but...
I was angry with you and it was
the first thing that came into my mind.
What else did you tell him, Beth?
I told him that I...
I had a feeling that you weren't interested in me
and that you preferred being with Seldom.
Oh, bloody hell!
I'm sorry.
You don't think they'll take something so stupid seriously?
They take everything seriously, Beth.
Well, I don't think it's going to put you on the spot.
It's absurd that the police should think that you're the murderer.
Does the perfect crime exist?
Foryears, writers have speculated on this idea
and murderers too.
Some even managed to put the idea into practice.
Like the case of Howard Green, in London.
Green was a humble tailor,
well-considered socially.
He kept a diary which the police found in his own house.
In the diary, he analyzed
in great detail
fourteen ways of murdering
his wife, forwhom he professed a deep and secret
hatred. Some of
the procedures were ridiculous,
others brutal, one ortwo
really brilliant.
But what Green understood at once
was that the main danger forthe criminal
was not the possible investigation of facts in the past
but the problems that
might arise in the future.
Every alibi contains an element of falsehood which with patience
can be discovered.
His conclusion was that the only perfect crime that exists
is not the one that remains unsolved but the one
which is solved with the wrong culprit.
Does he kill her in the end?
No, she kills him.
One night she found the diary.
She ended up stabbing him with
the kitchen scissors.
The jury, horrified by the reading of the diary,
judge the murderto have been
in self-defence and declare her innocent.
Julia Green,
you have been found not guilty, you are free to go.
I don't understand. How is it the perfect crime?
It was discovered recently
that the handwriting in the diaries was not Howard Green's.
So, who wrote them?
His wife's lover, a forger of works of art.
The murderer is 30/36 years old.
Born into a lower middle class family, in a small town or a suburb
of a big city.
He's got the characteristics of a precocious genius.
And probably
some form of physical defect.
He imagines that his talents
triumph and that he can destroy those who humiliate him.
Then his big chance arrives:
To leave his environment and put his formerworld behind him.
And it is here that something unexpected happens: He is rejected.
For some, probably unfair reason, he is expelled
from the place that he considers to be his by right.
And he finds himself faced with the prospect
of having to return to the world that he thought he'd escaped.
Goodness, sounds like this woman knew him personally.
That's crazy, she has no basis.
In any case, we're not talking about a psychopath,
there are no elements of cruelty.
In fact, we could say that he is virtually innocent.
Exactly. The psychologist puts special emphasis on that.
The murderer is seeking
vengeance and admiration.
The murders are, in a sense, a way of paying court to you.
There's a mixture of the desire for vengeance
and the much stronger desire to belong
to yourworld. 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 overyourtrousers.
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 forthem.
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 preferyou and you fuck betterthan 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 fucked 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 shit 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 Hatterwill 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 fucking 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 fucking 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 yourfriend 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 modularform, there is an elliptic curve,
and for every elliptic curve there is a modularform.
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 fucking will kill you!
Easy, easy.
Bastards!
Fucking English and their damned good manners.
When they fuck you,
they really fuck you.
Welcome to the party.
I gather nobody told you about the dress code forthis 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 fucking
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 consideryou 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
to celebrate one of the crowning moments in its history.
If the rumours are true, thanks to Professor Henry Wilkins, Bormat's
famous last theorem could cease to be unsolvable in the next few hours.
Hundreds of mathematicians from all overthe world
will meet today in Cambridge to witness,
live, the public demonstration
that Professor Wilkins will give
in the university's Number Theory Congress.
For centuries mathematicians
have tried in vain to answerthat theorem.
Will the mystery be resolved?
I'm sorry about yesterday, but I still think that you should...
Yeah, that I should think for myself.
Though I haven't been too successful so far.
Tomorrow the paperwill publish an article about the murders.
In it I explain everything I know.
Everything?
The police think that if we make it public
and we give our solution to the 4th symbol, it'll stop the murderer.
What interests him is that
I recognize his intelligence. That should be enough.
Do you think it will work?
It's the best I could come up with.
So I have 12 hours to prove I'm not an idiot.
That just about sums it up, right?
You're not an idiot, much as you might try.
You know it, Martin, you just have to remember.
After all, you belong to the sect.
- I know what you're thinking. - So?
It could be the biggest mistake of your life, believe me.
I don't believe you.
I think you're lying.
You're right. I am lying,
but if I distract you long enough, maybe the bus'll set off and it'll
be too late.
You know, these are a bit hard to swallow at first,
but after a while you get a taste forthem.
My spaghetti or my mystery novels?
No, spaghetti is a great invention.
So are mystery novels.
You know, they make sense.
There's something to find out and they explain it to you at the end.
In life, nobody bothers explaining anything.
I don't want to speak of explanations,
or conjectures, or anything else.
Outside this room nothing exists.
Only you, me
and this spaghetti.
I know what it meant foryou to get off that bus.
It was worth it.
It's only just begun.
Look what you've done. You're mad.
Mad about you.
You've got some there.
This moment is perfect...
unique.
"The unshaken heart of well-rounded truth".
Come again?
It's from Parmenides, he was a Greek stand-up comedian.
He said that reality is one big lie,
and the only thing that exists
is a single unchanging God.
Wow, you're doing it again.
What?
Talking like the people from your sect.
- Well, I guess we can't help it. - I guess.
Now I understand
why girls go out with musicians and not mathematicians.
That's what he said.
Really? He knew girls prefer musicians?
No, no, no, no. The thing about the sect.
"You should know. You're part of the sect."
- What? - Fuck.
No, no, no. It can't be, it's too easy.
What's wrong?
I have to discover it before it comes out in the papers.
What?
Oh my God, it's Seldom.
You just have to go along with his bloody game, don't you?
Yes, I do! It's all I can fucking think about.
- Beth was right. - What?
You're in love with a bloody lunatic. That old man
- turns you on more than I do! - Look, Lorna, listen to me.
Just this once, that's all I ask.
When this nightmare's over, we're getting out
- of here. - Where to?
Wherever. Outside these walls, to a place with no books,
where people don't know theirtwo times tables.
- Shit! - I told you.
It's too early, even forthe bookworms.
What now?
Bookstore!
- Hey, we're closed. - We'll just be a moment!
At least tell me what we're looking for.
Ah, here it is.
The sect of the Pythagoreans...
The fathers of mathematics.
They were forbidden to reveal their secrets.
They functioned like a religious sect, numbers
were sacred to them, gods that conformed the world.
No, it's not here.
I'm sorry but you'll have to come back later.
There's no one on the cash register.
Don't worry. We don't need to buy anything.
Well, I think you'd better leave, then.
Oh, give us a moment. Pretty please? Please.
If you consult our catalogue,
I think you'll find everything to meet your requirements.
Will you shut up for a minute! I can't think!
I'm sorry,
but you give me no option but to call security.
Fine, call security.
Just leave.
It's got to be mentioned in one of these,
a diagram, or something.
Kind of like that?
That's it. Perfect.
One,
the beginning of all things. Perfection, enclosed in itself.
The fish.
That's what we thought. The Vesica Piscis, a Christian symbol, but
this one's much earlier.
It's simply two, the intersection of two circles. Symbol of opposites,
duality, the war between good and evil.
Three, the triad,
the synthesis of opposites. Peace afterwar.
And the fourth symbol?
The Tetraktys, the quaternary.
One plus two, plus three, plus four: Ten.
Totality, the Demiurge.
It was their divine number.
One, two, three, four.
That simple.
How could I not see it?
Any enigma is easy once you know the answer.
What are you looking for?
The only thing I know about these guys is that they had a unique...
understanding of medicine. You know, if...
intelligence was the supreme value,
then the mentally retarded were the greatest sinners.
They used them as guinea pigs
for medical experiments.
They even tried organ transplants...
Oh shit.
Thanks very much, that's all I need!
- Thank you. - Really sorry.
Come on!
Hey!
Come here!
Come back here!
You two!
Where do you think you're going? Come here!
I know who the murderer is.
It's okay, John. Really?
Look, I know I fucked up in the concert,
but now you have to believe me.
This time it could be worse, he could kill more people, probably 10.
Relax.
This time he got in touch with us directly. We guessed the symbol.
The tetraktys...
Exactly. The message indicates a particular place.
He told us to send ambulances there.
A road?
The A421. Just past the Black Cat roundabout.
That's the road to Cambridge.
There's a flyover on the main road.
Petersen's already on his way.
He'll try to stop the bus before it reaches that spot.
Have you located the bus yet?
It's three miles from where
you are, sir. You'll be meeting up
in under a minute.
Petersen here, to all units.
The murderer may be travelling
with them, so keep your heads down until I give the word.
Where are they? I can't see them.
- Right in front of you, sir. - Got it!
Now!
Jesus!
Turn off the engine! Put your hands on the wheel!
We made it in time.
They've stopped the bus.
Seldom and the other mathematicians are safe.
Seldom? What have you done? You've got the wrong bus!
Hello?
Seldom, you have to speak with Petersen, there's another bus!
What are you talking about?
It's the girl's father!
What girl?
Martin?
Martin, can you hear me?
The girl in the hospital, she needs a transplant.
He wants to kill the kids to save her!
Sir?
Excuse me, sir. Sir, this way, please.
- That bus has to be stopped! - Calm down, sir.
They're going to be killed! I have to talk to Petersen!
Sir, one of the professors insists on speaking to you.
He's completely lost control of himself.
Oh what the hell...?
You. Did you know about this?
Did you fucking know about this?
You and yourfucking equations!
I don't know anything.
Nothing.
Five of the victims are possible donors.
Five organs offer a fair chance.
They're rushing them off to St Joseph's.
That's why he sent the ambulances.
That's right.
The petrol tank was down to a minimum.
He wanted to cause as little harm as possible,
only this time it wasn't exactly imperceptible.
Why all these? Why all the symbols?
He didn't plan to die in the accident.
His idea was to jump in time to avoid being a suspect.
How do you know?
When the bus crashed, the doors were already open.
And what about the other deaths?
Well, if only the children had been killed,
he would have been the prime suspect.
Making us believe in a serial killer
took the spotlight off him.
Only he miscalculated and didn't get out in time.
So, he didn't really want to kill the other people,
- he just needed an alibi? - Exactly.
Shame we didn't work it out sooner.
So much
for logic.
You were just a pawn in his game.
You have nothing to feel guilty about.
You don't know what you're saying.
You don't need to get on a plane.
Sorry?
I said, you don't need to get on a plane. You're already miles away.
I was just thinking...
Really?
Ok. From now on,
we are just two tourists
in an airport with the heaviest rucksack I've ever seen.
What did you pack in here anyway?
Oh, you know, just the essentials. A double bed, a cooker,
for making spaghetti
- and a couple of otherthings. - Well, I hope
you didn't pack a single one of your mystery novels.
Of course not!
No mystery novels, no symbols, no Oxford.
We had a deal, remember?
You gonna be able to live like this?
Yes.
Just you and me.
Come on.
Thank you.
Can I have your boarding pass, please?
He didn't know!
Martin?
That old fuckertricked me!
He didn't know what the third symbol was!
My God!
You've got the pictures with you?
What is this?
"Kreis".
What is that?
She spent 3 years deciphering German codes.
Excuse me, sir, you can't do that here.
Of course!
Kreis is German for circle.
He came up with it on the spot!
Have you been here before?
I never had a chance.
It would be a pity to leave the country without seeing this place.
This is the largest
collection of fakes in the world.
Not even Michelangelo
can distinguish this David from his original.
Trajan's column we believe to be in Rome,
but we are sure that this is a common
plaster copy.
I feel at ease here.
No one tries to deceive me.
In effect, Martin, this is the place
that contains the most truth in the entire planet.
We have an absolute truth:
Everything is fake.
Outside of these walls
nobody is sure of anything.
You took a big risk in giving me a blank piece of paper.
That was important. I had to convince you that I knew
what the sign was when, at that moment, I wasn't at all sure.
I knew you wouldn't let me down, Martin.
Your pride wouldn't let you open this piece of paper
until you had a solution of your own,
and that, if I might say, was going to take some time.
There was no serial killer.
It was an invention, just like Petersen said.
But it wasn't the bus driver's invention.
It was yours.
You invented a series of killings to hide the only real crime:
The death of Mrs. Eagleton. Beth killed her,
just as the police had suspected from the very beginning.
Beth hated her life. She couldn't put up
with that woman any more so she killed her.
That's when she sent you a note
asking for help.
I couldn't look her in the face.
It was my fault that herfather was killed in that accident
30 years ago.
I couldn't let her down again.
We both met at the door.
You'd come to get rid of the evidence,
but I was there, in the way, and that spoiled everything.
You had to come up with a new plan, in front of me,
just moments before the police arrived. You read the word
"circle" in German on the Scrabble rack,
and that gave you the idea.
A series with infinite possibilities.
But you needed a second death
to convince the police that the murdererwas not Beth.
And unwittingly, I helped you.
I gave you the idea of how to do it, without even realising.
An imperceptible murder.
A murdererwho only kills
someone who is at
death's door. You only had
to wait forthe occasion and prick the body with a syringe.
That's when you sent the second message. The fish.
You still didn't know where all this was going to lead.
The possibilities of continuing the series were still infinite.
You had to wait for another occasion to arise.
And that could take weeks, months.
There was no hurry.
You probably had a different plan forthe third death,
but that triangle player suddenly appeared like a gift from the gods,
- and you had your solution. - At first I rejected it.
Too many people, too operatic.
Don't lie.
You couldn't waste
a chance like that.
What's more, there was a triangle. It all took on meaning!
Beautiful... It was as if the damned Pythagoreans
were on your side.
It was perfect, but what's more important,
it was totally inoffensive.
Until the madman appeared.
Any one of our acts can have unexpected consequences.
That's what you most feared.
Who was to know that poor devil
was going to read the article in the paper?
He was looking for a solution to his daughter's problem,
while every day he drove to school those healthy children
with perfect lungs but damaged brains.
Why did they deserve to live and not his daughter?
Mathematicians are not the only ones familiarwith the Greeks, professor.
You gave him his solution when you published the series.
He also wanted to hide his crime.
He only had to make a phone call, and he did.
So...
you think I'm the killer.
No.
You haven't killed anyone,
but you're guilty of provoking the deaths of those innocent children.
You're guilty of arrogance,
of using us all like pieces on a board game.
Who the hell do you think you are?
I hope my failure has, at least, served to teach you something.
Yes, one thing.
One very painful thing.
Numbers also lie.
The truth is not mathematical, as I once believed.
It's absurd, confused, random,
disorderly, and deeply unpleasant.
I'm glad that finally we can agree on something, Martin, my friend.
Just one thing has escaped you.
The real culprit.
The one who triggered off this whole string of crimes.
Who?
You, Martin.
Don't make me laugh.
If you don't believe me, then speak to Beth.
She was in love with you,
orweren't you aware of that?
She remembered yourwords exactly.
"You should try it."
"You should try it," pounded time and again
inside her head, like a hammer.
"You should be free, like me."
That's what she understood,
and that's what she did.
Put an end to what prevented herfrom being free...
her own mother.
The butterfly
that flutters its wings and causes a hurricane
on the other side of the world.
Sound familiar?
Are you that butterfly, Martin?