01x04 - The Deadlier Species

[bunniefuu]

This is Radio Cannes,
live, locked, and loaded.

Rumor has it the alleged
bachelor Leo Duval

is in town for his
30th birthday bash.

But only the crème de
la crme are invited.

Here is a little
birthday song for Leo...

m*therf*cker!

Come on.

f*ck.

Come on, baby.

What the hell?

Son of a b*tch!

Camybear?

Where is Geneviève?

You have to settle
for me this time.

I threatened to break her arm.

She reluctantly agreed.

Dad, why won't you see me?

How's Margaux?

I'm not here for a cozy
catch-up chitchat, Dad.

And I guess Leblanc
wasn't either.

You've been blackmailed
to change your plea.

To protect Margaux
and I? That's it?

I don't know what
you're talking about...

Don't.

Isn't all this, the
case, the sentence,

humiliating enough?

And I have to live with that.

No, Dad. We do.

Margaux and I.

After everything
we've been through.

And now you get sent down
for crimes you didn't commit!

Camille, listen to me.

I'm the only one who
knows what's going on,

one of two people, actually,

who knows about you being
blackmailed by Julien Boire.

Who is this other person?

Dad, stop, I'm begging you.

Tell me what's going on.

Who did you upset? Criminals?

The mob? Politicians? Who?

Okay, this isn't nothing.

Someone tried to
drive me off the road.

So whatever deal you
made didn't work.

They're still coming for me.

They're still coming...

for both of us.

You need to leave it alone.

Dad? You can't be serious.

Maybe your boss was right.

Maybe you need a break.

Guard!

Dad!

I won't give up.

His name is Leo Duval.

The Duval family
owns the majority

of Belgian arms manufacturers
and the conglomerate Gryphon.

- Arms dealers.
- Aviation and aeronautic.

But still one of the biggest
arms companies in Europe.

We're homicide, not babysitting.

Duval's security
detail has informed us

there's been a
threat on his life.

Oh, a death threat
on a rich brat.

As in hired assassin.

Duvals are trying to
keep this low-profile.

Then call us when the
brat's keeled over.

Camille.

Ever heard of
teamwork, Lieutenant?

Teamwork's overrated,
if you ask me.

It requires trust.

I'm ordering you
two to be there.

You're on the guest list.

You're going to do background
checks on every guest,

every staff member and
caterer of the hotel.

You screw this up, it'll
screw up your careers.

Is that clear?

- Crystal.
- Crystal.

So go.

Maybe your boss was right.

You need to leave it alone.

Hello.

Double espresso, black.

As usual?

- Yeah, thanks.
- Sure.

Did you know that coffee
originated in Ethiopia,

where a goatherd noticed
that a particular bean

made his goats all jittery.

Curious by nature, he
decided to try the bean.

Not now.

Did you see him?

They got to him.
He won't budge.

Padel accident?

Someone tried to
run me off the road.

Same car as the other night.

Boire?

That means he's on to you.

And that means he's more
likely to a make mistake.

Also mean that he
wants to k*ll me.

Mmm.

Thanks, honey.

Question is, who
does Boire works for?

What have you discovered?

You've had copies of
everything I have.

So the three gangsters that gave
testimony against your father,

let's call them the
Three Stooges for fun.

There must be a logical
connection between them.

Maybe your father arrested
them all at some point.

Already checked, nothing.

Alright, so remember
our goatherd?

Well, he had a friend, the
abbot at the local monastery,

who decided to distill and
brew this bean into a drink

to keep him awake
during evening prayers.

Coffee then disseminated
throughout the whole world.

And it was the British
who were responsible

for turning the Americans
into coffee drinkers

when the people of Boston,

so outraged at the high taxation
of their favorite beverage,

dumped the whole
shipment into the harbor

at the eponymous Tea Party
that you've no doubt heard of,

and the Americans chose coffee.

Is there a point to
a history lesson?

There is always a connection.

We just haven't found it yet.

You two simply can't get
enough of each other?

We need to get to the Majestic.

Oh, yeah. Huge
party, VIPs only.

Sorry. That means
you can't come.

Can you be quiet, Sherlock?

I don't trust this guy.

Don't mind him. It's okay.

We need background checks on
Duval and his guests attending.

Interpol intelligence suggests

the hit man could be one
known as "Nightshade."

Atropa belladonna. Deadly.

You a botanist now?

The Nightshade supposedly
disappeared 15 years ago.

Hasn't been seen
or heard of since.

Vanished without a
trace. Poof. Gone.

- Some say dead.
- So what do you think?

Would a ghost come
out of retirement

for a hit on a rich
douchebag bachelor?

- Le Majestic, right?
- LéA: Yep.

Let's go. It's on him.

Pleasure, as always.

Guess who.

Yeah, of course it's me.

Oh, you know, keeping
my head above water.

What have you heard
recently about a Nightshade?

You need my botany skills.

Of course you are here.

What more do you know
about the Nightshade?

The plant or the assassin?

Guess.

Well, it's a toxic,
perennial, herbaceous plant

- from the same family as...
- The other one, smartass.

I know. It was a joke.

No one knows who he or she is.

The Nightshade is
supremely versatile,

happy to k*ll long range
with a sn*per r*fle

or a bit of a poisoning

or even from close
range with a sil*ncer.

But the one constant
is the memento,

which is always a
skull-shaped pendant.

- A skull pendant?
- I know.

- Really?
- Yeah. Yeah.

Why do all K*llers
suffer from vanity?

I'll let you know
when I find him.

Or her.

It could be a "her."

Oh, surely you know, Camille,

the female of the species is
more deadly than the male.

If crossed, for sure.

You have an irritating knack of
popping up all over the place.

We, that is police,
has it covered.

Guys, keep an eye on...

Blondie here.

Do not let him in.

- Oh, yeah, don't...
- Sorry, can't stay here.

No, I know. I'm going. Bye.

See ya.

Oh, Jesus, I need a break.

I'll head up to
the swimming pool.

Leo, Leo, they need more
time to get everything ready.

You know what? Bring
me a bottle of Cristal.

Excuse me?
- Yeah, ice-cold.

What the hell is going
on with him today?

Ahh, siblings. You
gotta love them.

All that anxious attachment,

a giddy blend of love and
rivalry laced with a bit

- of hatred of guilt.
- Why are you still here?

You see, there's one tiny
detail that I forgot to mention.

The Nightshade has never
failed to complete a contract.

- Ah, Serge. How are you?
- Hello.

I have a reservation. Delmasse.

Sure, I'll have a
look. So, Delmasse.

Listen, my friend, you see
the young woman over there?

I don't suppose you
can do me a favor.

Uh, yes, there's a problem.

We had to let your
room to another guest.

Excuse me? I had a booking.

It would appear not. The
hotel is fully booked.

I don't care. I
have a reservation.

- Not to worry.
- Thank you.

I'm sorry, but
there are no rooms.

Get me your manager.

Hi.

Francine, you have to
find her a room right now.

Okay, it would seem a
room has become available

at short notice.

- It's complimentary.
- Thank you, uh, Francine.

- Enjoy your stay.
- Thank you.

You're welcome.

What?

After you.

The honeymoon suite?!

- We needed a room.
- We?!

Tell me, how many other women

have you conned into
the honeymoon suite?

- What, I...
- No, no, no, no, no.

You know what? I
really don't care.

Just remember one thing.
I carry a g*n. Legally.

Well, uh, speaking of g*ns,
I suppose that's where

your millionaire
bachelor-c*m-arms dealer

is staying.

Come on, you really
think there is a threat?

You ever wondered
why the arms world

is called the Shadow World?

After you.

Oh, God!

You're welcome.

You see, I was raised to
value certain traditions.

What are you doing?
Put me down now.

Put me down!

Ta-da!

Hey, man, if you want to get
out of here, put me down now.

- Alright, suit yourself.
- No, no, no!

Did your mother ever tell
you how annoying you are?

Now, now, there's no
need to get too personal.

Oh, please, just go.

As you wish, my lady.

Ahh! Look at that.

Takes your breath
away, doesn't it?

Yeah.

View from the roof of the
town library's better.

Ah, the venue for Leo
Duval's party, no doubt.

How much space
does the guy need?

Well, to be exact,
150 square meters.

Just enough room for a bunch
of self-respecting VIPs

to cut a rug under the stars.

Although, it's a
little bit too exposed

to sn*pers for my liking.

Léa, I'm staring
at the top floor.

Duval's terrace is way too open.

I have a bad feeling about this.

We need to dig a little deeper
into the Duval enterprises.

Competitors, deals
being made, contracts.

Already on it.

Leo is getting the
majority of company shares

when he's turning 30.

He will be the new CEO.

Their new contracts
are worth billions,

according to the press.

Mm. Maybe somebody
wants to interfere?

He's going to be a sitting
duck out on that terrace.

We're checking every
guest in the hotel...

Who they are,
where they're from,

how long they've been here.

Will send it over ASAP.

So, how's the Majestic?

Well, you know...

Camille?

What? A little refreshment?

- Glass of bubbles?
- LéA: Camille?

Can't you see I'm working?

So am I.

Is that Harry?

Yes. No. Well,
he got us a room.

Us? No, not in that way.

You know, there was a mix-up,
some trouble with the booking.

- It's a long story.
- Why is he still here?

Here's your champagne, darling.

- You're drinking champagne?
- No, he opened it.

I'm not... I'm not...

Look, focus. Okay?

Bring me that list, and
I'll call you later.

Yes, Lieutenant. And...

Nothing. I'll check in later.

What? We're honeymooning.

Okay, albeit undercover, but
I think we should at least

play our parts,
don't you, darling?

Hm. You know, people talk real
funny without their teeth.

I've got something that
might cheer you up.

It's about your father's case.

Come over here.

You remember those three
stooges I was talking about?

Well, I checked into
their financials

to see if there
was any crossover.

I've already done
it. There isn't.

Correct... ish.

Fact is that the very day
that they all testified,

the exact same payment was made
into three numbered accounts.

Now, these accounts
aren't identical,

but they are sequential.

Numbers 80549906, 07, 08.

Now, that's the thing
about numbered accounts.

If an individual
opens three accounts

on behalf of three
other individuals,

they're more than
likely to be sequential,

accounts one, two, and three.

Bet you didn't spot
that, now, did you?

No, I'm not massively familiar

with offshore
accounts, you know.

Okay, so let me educate you.

The correct name is
actually numbered accounts.

Offshore accounts just
means they're offshore.

Numbered accounts means
you can't be tr...

It doesn't matter.

Point is, my educated guess

is that these three accounts
were opened by the same person,

the same person who's
paying Julien Boire.

Hm.

Sorry?

I'll ask Léa to check.

Do.

Now back to our
friend Leo Duval.

Who had it in for Leo?

Hm.

And who would gain if
Leo's not the new CEO?

Sibling rivalry?

The sister's not
exactly his biggest fan.

Or a business competitor?

Or a nation state
terrified that its enemy

might purchase
Leo's firecrackers

and find them directly
aimed down their throats.

In that case, it's something
for the DGSE, not us.

You mean the local
babysitters? Come on.

I'm going to talk to him.

Need a translator who's
fluent in rich douchebag?

Oh, no. Enjoy your
bubbly, darling.

I will, darling.

Lieutenant Delmasse, Cannes PD.

I'm here to see Mr. Duval.

I'll be needing that back.

Follow me?

f*ck's sake, you do as I
say, or you're fired, okay?

Call you back.

Leo Duval, right?

I'm Lieutenant Delmasse.

If it's any consolation,
I hated my 30th, too.

What can I do for you,
Lieutenant Delmasse?

I have to be honest,

have you any idea of
anyone who would want to...

To what? k*ll me?

Oh, let's see.

Um, yeah, there's
my first nanny,

my cousin Charles,
my beloved sister.

Oh, and let's not forget
my dear mama and papa.

- I'm serious.
- So am I.

All of this is just for show.

Just an illusion to make
us believe I'm safe.

Something to ease my
parents' conscience.

You don't seem very concerned.

Well, I guess I'm
tired of being scared.

Would you follow me?

Tomorrow you will be
the major shareholder

of a billion-dollar corporation.

Yeah, peddling g*ns
all over the world?

I didn't say that.

No, you didn't.

But everybody thinks it.

Well, I wouldn't recommend

holding your party
out in the open, hmm?

Lieutenant, listen, it's
just a small dinner party

with a couple of close friends.

We're holding it inside.

Feel free to join us.

We'll all feel much
safer with you here.

Hm. What happened to your leg?

I ran off the road on a
motorcycle when I was young.

Young and stupid.

I'm sorry. I have
to take this.

Sure.

Promise me you'll
keep your head down.

Roger that, Lieutenant.

Yes, Léa.

Listen up, top floor,

two doors down from Duval.

Okay.

LéA: There is one
suspicious guest.

He checked in as
Hillary St. John.

Only problem, there's
no such person.

He's in his 60s.

Age fits. Could he
be the Nightshade?

- LéA: Might be.
- Thank you.

LéA: There's only
one way to find out.

Okay. I'll go and
have a word with him.

LéA: Keep on going.
Talk to you later.

Léa, thought any more
about the promotion?

I have, yes.

And?

And...

I'd like to accept.

But I can't.

So...

my answer is no.

Let's hope you
don't regret that.

Some offers only come once.

Don't let your girl-crush get
in the way of a good career.

Ah, there you are, darling.

You've been gone an
awfully long time.

Should I be worried?

I've been working.

Oh, look, even the
soup's a threat.

That's paranoia for you.

So, what did Duval say?

What's that?

What? Leo's dead?

- Oh, no, not yet.
- Oh, God.

But now we know he's here.

Or she. Could be a she.

Could be a she.

Hillary St. John?

I'm sorry. I think you'll
have to take the next one.

Wait, wait!

Oh, no. Wait. Wait.

Aah!

You mean the Nightshade?

A guest who checked
in under a false name.

He stopped at the fourth floor.

Wait. Hold up.

Are you going to run all
the way down to the lobby?

I missed cardio today.

No, I think you're
in great shape.

Wait!

I don't think you
need any more cardio.

Merde! He's going down again.

Of course he is.

Either he got out
or someone got in.

And you really think
he's your assassin?

Age fits.

Okay.

You know, he could just be
a guest traveling incognito.

Maybe he's a friend of yours?

Good Lord!

What is going on?

Monsieur Travert,
I'm with the police.

Do you know this man?

Okay.

Better get the
guests out of here.

Okay.

Camille, wait. Wait!

Security! Security!

Fourth floor, he's
gotta be here somewhere.

Or she. Could be a she.

And what if he wasn't
the intended target?

Maybe... Maybe it was Duval

and he was delayed by
your line of questioning?

You told me the Nightshade
never makes mistakes.

Since when have you ever
listened to what I said?

But honestly, there's...
There's hope for you yet.

- Aah! God Almighty!
- Whoa.

Put the g*n down, darling.

Damn it, we lost him.

It's Francine, isn't it?

Please, you'll have
to excuse my friend.

She's a little on edge.

She didn't get her
cardio this morning.

Are you okay?

You sure? Okay.

Terribly sorry, so sorry.

Léa, you have to come down here.

Bring Ramz.

We have a dead body.

What can you tell us, Ramz?

Single b*llet to the middle
of the forehead, close range.

Elevator stopped, k*ller got in.

Although no trace of
anyone on the CCTV,

- according to hotel security.
- Okay.

The Nightshade's signature card.

Better check it
for prints and DNA.

The Nightshade?

I mean, that's...
That's legendary.

Why k*ll this St. John, a guest
hiding behind a fake name?

He wasn't on the
guest list. I checked.

Anything on the g*n?

Probably Ruger Mark II p*stol,
complete with sil*ncer,

the Nightshade trademark,
used in "Assassins," 1995.

Stallone and Banderas
are young hit men

out to k*ll an old
retired hit man.

Story by the
Wachowskis, you know,

before the red pill
and the blue pill.

So basically about two hit
men out to k*ll each other?

Sometimes I think taking the
blue pill would've been better.

Agreed. Ignorance is bliss.

I'll send the b*llet
over to ballistics.

Yeah. Do that.

Okay.

LéA: Camille!

Cam!

You have to talk to
me. What's going on?

Not now, Léa.

I'll tell you everything,
but just not now.

Fine.

I'll check Hillary St.
John's dental records.

Okay.

Thank you.

No! No!

I love you!

No!

Good afternoon, sir.

Hi. I'm alright.

Actually, no, Black Rose,
easy on the bitters,

heavy on the cognac, yeah?

Of course, sir.

Here's your drink, sir.

Put it on my room.

The honeymoon suite.

Ah!

How goes the
wandering detective?

I would buy you a drink,

but I know how seriously
you take your work.

So, um... cheers!

Cheers.

Why would somebody k*ll the
old man in the elevator?

Well, at least we know
he wasn't Nightshade.

And that means the Nightshade
might still be here.

Yeah, that is a
sobering thought.

More bad news?

From my sister.

A complete mess.

I can't deal with it right now.

Oh, as an only child,
I can only imagine.

She is something
else, your sister.

She... She is... She is
so different from you.

So much more...

Um, how... how...
How do I even put it?

More... More... More...

More Cannes.

You done?

Don't you ever speak to me
about me, my sister, or Cannes.

You know nothing
about any of them.

You're just like
the rest, a tourist!

Outsiders, visitors, parasites.

None of you belong.

None of you are my people.

None of you are from here.

I was born here.

I went to school here.

I had my first kiss here.

My first heartbreak.

- And I'll die here.
- I'm sorry if I...

- No, shut it.
- Okay.

These streets, these
people, this city made me.

Is me.

I'm not a criminal,
a fashionista,

a movie star, or anything else.

Cut me and I bleed Cannes.

We lend the likes of you
our city, our heritage.

You don't deserve it.

And when you and the rest
of them have long gone,

I'll still be here.

We'll still be here.

And we'll be just fine.

So, where did you say
you were from again?

Oh, come on.

Finally, there you are.

Not a word.

Well...

We have a positive
ID on St. John.

Dental records identified him
as Roger Thompson, former MI6.

What? Why was he here?

Well, maybe he was hired as
part of Duval's security team.

My thought exactly, but no.

I looked him up.
He's a writer.

Old criminal cases.
Guess about what.

The Nightshade.

You got to be kidding me.

Ramzy, talk to me.

So the DNA report came back.

No match in any files,
but it's a woman's DNA.

A woman assassin?

- Yeah.
- Okay. Thank you.

What did I say about the
female of the species?

So, honeymoon?

Yeah, we are still waiting
for the hors d'oeuvre.

Can you please hurry up?
Everyone is already here.

Okay? Yeah, bye, sure.

Leo, your guests
are waiting for you.

Hey, Tessy. Uh-huh?

I'm sorry for being such a pain.

It's just that...

What? What's wrong?

Nothing's wrong.

It's just that I
don't think I can

or want to handle all
of this by myself.

Most importantly, I really
feel like this business

could use a feminine touch.

What are you saying?

I think I'm saying I
want you to be my co-CEO.

Hey, you don't have to give
me an answer right now.

Come, let's meet our guests.

Please.

My dear friends!

My dear friends!

What a sight for sore eyes.

Triple-checking everything!

And Nina is fuming. I
can't just sit here.

The assassin might already
be at the dinner party.

Either as a guest or staff.

She's using different
MOs, just like you said.

Come on, let's go.

It's a party, Detective.
There's a certain dress code.

I find life's a lot more fun

when you pay attention
to the little details.

Serge provided me with this.

I believe it's your size.

No glass slippers, I'm afraid.

What?

Where's your friend?

Ah, here he is.

Shall we?

Yeah.

Okay, speech time.

My dear friends.

My father told me,

"Leo, my boy, don't
worry about turning 30.

You'll get used to it.

Well, of course,
you'll be 40 by then."

Sorry. Sorry. It was funny.

30, yeah? Time to grow up.

Stop fooling around.

To you all, my friends.

Happy birthday!

Never grow up, never grow up.

Cheers.

So, are we gonna
have to pat down

every single one of these
women and search them for g*ns?

Because I think Leo would
have been your man, actually.

They've already been scanned.

Oh, right. Shame.

Ramz?

Yes, just got the prints.

LéA: Good job.

I'll brief Camille.

Cam, Cam.

Yes.

LéA: Yes, Cam, we
have a new suspect.

- Who?
- No prints on the pendant,

but Ramz found a print
on St. John's wallet,

meaning the k*ller was careless.

Belonging to?

LéA: Cléo Faucher,
ex-military.

AKA Francine Bernard.

The snotty receptionist?

What? Francine?

The Nightshade? No. No.

She's a stagiaire.

What's happened? No problem.

What the f*ck?

See what's going on.

Ladies and gentleman,
please, stay calm.

That's no accident.

No problem.

Léa, she's close, I can feel it.

Go find her and get her.

Okay.

Seal off all hotel
exits! Nobody in or out!

- We have to get you out of here.
- No, I'm not going anywhere.

Look, I don't have
time to argue, okay?

Lieutenant.

I don't want to be
rude, but right now

you're ruining the party.

Camille, protect Duval!
I'll find Faucher.

Copy that.

Listen to me. It's
dangerous. Stand up.

f*ck!

Everything is under
control, okay?

It's ridiculous. I'm not
gonna leave my guests.

It doesn't make any sense.

Waitress.

Excuse me, young lady. I
can't possibly eat this.

Piss off!

Camille, wait!

There's no need to run, Cléo.

Don't move!

Don't move!

f*ck! f*ck!

Aah! Aah!

f*ck!

I'd say we make a
pretty wonderful team.

Shut it.

The thing that bugged us was
the k*lling of Roger Thompson...

a former MI6 operative.

Turned writer.

Writing about cold cases,
unsolved cases, the Nightshade.

Thompson's obsession, really.

We found it in his room.

He believed he had
figured it all out,

the identity behind
the infamous assassin.

Who hired you?

Nobody. It wasn't a contract.

It was personal, hmm?

I mean, you must have
been like 15 years old

when the Nightshade disappeared.

I believe the answer
is right here.

"When the Nightshade disappeared

after failing his
last assignment,

he left two young
daughters behind,

girls who lost their father
to a ruthless profession."

Ruthless.

And if you read further,

the last assignment was the
head of an arms corporation...

Hugo Duval, Leo's father.

But he is very much alive.

Because your father
was betrayed and k*lled

when he tried to escape.

Why Leo? He didn't
sh**t your dad.

Me and my sister thought
we'd pay our respects

the day Leo
inherited the empire.

Take everything from him.

Just like his father did to us.

Motive's clear.

"Unidentified man found
brutally ex*cuted.

Social services
took the daughters."

An eye for an eye.

Very biblical.

Suis-Yola?

LéA: You need some help?

I don't miss the dress.

I felt crammed in,
like a sausage.

Speaking of sausages,
where's Harry?

Hm? I don't know.

I'm in love with this city.

But now you're leaving it.

I turned it down.

The promotion?

I'm staying.

You know I love this city, too.

See you tomorrow.