[eerie music]
[rhythmic drumming]
I don't like the countryside.
You're the one who wanted to come.
It's a chance to meet a friend of yours.
He'll like you, I'm sure.
Why?
He complains all the time, like you.
When we worked together, his sole obsession was bees.
It was his only passion.
Without them, he couldn't cope as a cop, he would've gone mad.
Arnaud!
[taps on glass]
Arnaud?
Arnaud!
Morillon!
[intense buzzing]
- Niémans... - Yeah?
[loud buzzing]
Arnaud! Arnaud!
[loud buzzing]
[taps on glass]
[theme music]
THE CRIMSON RIVERS
REDEMPTION
2[sirens]
All right?
Morillon was more than a colleague. More than a friend.
We were in the Anti-Gang Brigade. I could count on him 24/7.
Me and him took down all the biggest gangs back then.
He saved my life during a bank robbery.
Without him, I wouldn't be here.
All right, the zone is fully secure.
The coroner is on the way... Stéphane Gutturiez.
He's dressed to the nines.
Yeah, we must've caught him during a garden party.
Doctor, I'm Niémans. The victim clearly died following...
Please just let me do my job, OK?
- Where's the body? - Inside.
Give me a hand.
Today's my daughter's wedding.
I've got 30 minutes.
Who's that clown?
He's lucky I'm not on the job. Dickhead.
[snipping]
[thud]
- What's wrong, Doctor? - Don't approach the body!
The marks on his neck... Those aren't bee stings.
It's scrofula.
What's that?
A symptom of the plague.
[sirens]
[indistinct chatter]
[dramatic music]
[Gutturiez] My diagnosis was right. It's bubonic plague.
One of the most virulent forms of the disease.
- How is this even possible? - The thing is, it isn't.
Besides a few cases in Madagascar, the disease no longer exists.
Hm.
It's unlikely Morillon ever set foot there.
Can bee stings transmit the plague?
When the disease existed, it was spread by fleas on rats.
Then it was spread by bodily fluids: saliva, blood, sweat, sperm.
But it hasn't existed for centuries.
Look, there's even an emergency entomology unit.
It seems the hives were deliberately tampered with.
Deliberately?
Yes.
This story is crazy. I don't get it. Who'd do something like this?
Some nutjob.
I need to look into all of Arnaud's contacts.
We haven't been assigned to this case.
He was my best mate. Do you think I'll sit and do nothing?
At least let me call the prosecutor.
- You're being a pain, Camille! - Hey, Niémans!
Hold up!
The Pasteur Institute just sent their health assessment.
- It's unbelievable. - What?
Another plague victim, three days ago, Paris.
Who?
Joselyn Boafo.
19, Ghanaian prostitute. Worked in Château-Rouge.
Who's your contact at the Pasteur Institute?
Dr. Annequin. He made the diagnosis.
Nobody else knows. Pasteur doesn't want to leak it.
Especially to the media.
Yeah, I get it. Thank you, Doctor. All right, let's move, Camille.
- Where are we going? - To Paris.
Arnaud can't have been in contact with that girl.
He never went to Paris. He didn't fool around with whores.
Perhaps, but these two cases can't be mere coincidences.
You should get some rest, Camille. You'll take the wheel in an hour, OK?
- You all right? - Yeah, I'm all right.
[sighs]
[dramatic music]
Good day.
[beeping]
Here.
Thanks.
Hello.
I'm Dr. Annequin.
- Niémans. My partner, Delaunay. - Nice to meet you. Follow me.
[Niémans] Have orders been given to avoid an epidemic?
No, no need for that.
Have you contacted the girl's johns?
She wasn't able to contaminate anyone.
Why's that?
She was killed beforehand.
We noticed buboes starting to form, but she didn't die from the plague.
Her throat was slit first.
- What happened, exactly? - We don't really know.
Seems her handlers cleaned up before the health services got there.
I think they must have noticed that the prostitute was sick,
they killed her, then brought her to us.
And one more thing. The body was found naked,
wrapped in plastic, by the hospital laundry.
She was stuffed into a plastic laundry bag.
The kind used to reduce clothes space in a suitcase.
Was that how they avoided contamination?
More or less. We haven't seen any new cases.
- Except for Arnaud Morillon. - Yes, that's correct.
Anyway, it's good you came.
I'm a rational person, but this case makes no sense.
[slow dramatic music]
This is ridiculous.
No investigation, no door-to-door canvassing...
A dead whore isn't the crime of the century.
Is that the Anti-Gang Squad ethos?
Oh, come on, don't start. You know full well what I mean.
The plague isn't mentioned.
The Pasteur guys gave that order.
They don't want to cause a panic.
[random shouting]
- That guy there... He's the one. - Who is he?
An old friend.
- You worked around here? - Now and then.
[exhales]
[eerie noise]
[car door opens]
What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost.
No, it's nothing.
- Got something? - Yeah, Joselyn's "Mama".
Her what?
- Her "Mama". - What's that?
Her pimp, an old witch, a social worker...
Whatever you want to call it.
- Are both of us going in? - We'll play it cool. Don't worry.
[indistinct chatter]
[laughs]
Gentlemen.
We're here for Yaya. She here?
She ain't here.
Shame, 'cus she's hit the jackpot.
Oh, yeah?
24 hours in custody, for starters.
Then a 10-stretch, if I'm in a bad mood.
Hm.
Follow me. Don't get worked up.
[loud electronic music plays]
[music drowns out dialogue]
So? You into this?
Not really.
All right, let's go.
Yaya.
Wait here.
All right.
What do you want, Niémans?
Have we met?
I arrived here after your time,
but your reputation precedes you.
Well, I hope so.
The girls weren't sad when you left.
Well, we're here because we'd like some information
regarding a young girl you know.
Joselyn Boafo. Ring any bells?
Workplace accident.
Workplace accident?
A client paid a lot of cash to have her for the weekend.
She never came back.
What's the client's name?
No idea.
Actually, I think she was sick.
So you got rid of her.
If she was sick, we would've treated her.
- Hey! - Don't move!
Listen to me, Yaya. Listen closely.
You pimp 13-year-old girls and you say you care for them?
Don't take me for an idiot!
The name! Give me the fucking name!
- Get back! - I swear, I don't know!
- Get the fuck back! - I did nothing!
Give me a name or I set fire to this place!
- I don't know! - Close that fucking door!
- I've got Joselyn's phone. - Where?
There.
- Where? - There!
Fuck's sake... Here, Camille.
- Are the clients' names in here? - No.
She didn't know how to read or write, but she took selfies with clients.
You said you never saw her again.
Why do you have her phone?
It was sent to me by post.
I swear, it's the truth! Along with the password.
If you're screwing with me, I'll be back, Yaya.
Look at me. I'll be back.
[crash]
[loud electronic music plays]
I love it when you play it "cool".
[laugh]
So, what have we got?
A bunch of tossers.
One guy crops up more often than the rest.
Let me see.
Hm.
Oh, shit.
You know him?
Yeah.
Yeah, that's Stéphane Casadesus. Nickname, Fanfan.
Our third member.
Wait, Niémans! What's your theory right now?
That someone is killing your ex-colleagues with the plague?
Got another idea?
He might have got it from a whore? Like Morillon and his bees, right?
- We're wasting time, Camille. - Niémans, no! Wait!
What I mean is, dead or live, Casadesus is infected.
We can't just go see him. I'm sorry.
I'm calling Annequin.
[door bangs open]
[laboured breathing]
[breathing intensifies]
[dramatic music]
Shit, Fanfan.
Niémans, you have to go. Come on, you have to get out of here.
- No! - Come on, we're leaving!
Come on. This way.
Feeling better?
That's my second friend, Camille.
I don't know what's going on.
He must have wanted to lessen his pain.
[Annequin] This place needs disinfecting ASAP.
I'll handle the autopsy.
Thank you.
Let's go.
[slow dramatic music]
The IML is sending Doctor Belmonte. You know him?
- Very well, yes. - Any good?
More than that. The best.
Hello, ladies!
Hello, Niémans.
Hey, all right?
What the hell are you up to? You're in Paris now?
- Now and then, yes. - It's been a while!
Hello, Miss. I'm Doctor Belmonte.
Nice to meet you.
- This is Professor Annequin. - Very good. Where are you at?
Has the skin exam been done? All that's left is to open 'em up?
We were waiting for you, Doctor.
All right then, what are we waiting for?
Get a move on, lad. Let's go!
- I like her. - Yeah, me too.
Hold up. What the hell are you doing here?
Who's that?
A pain in the ass.
Captain Canto. Criminal Brigade.
Lieutenant Delaunay, my partner. You leading this case?
You didn't answer me. Why the hell are you here?
Casadesus and Morillon were in my group.
Yeah, I know, thanks, but this has nothing to do with you.
Except that my guys are all being wiped out.
So? That doesn't mean you should be here.
This is my beat, my case.
And I don't like your methods.
Listen, Canto, I know you and I haven't always been mates,
but we need to find my ex-group members.
Unless they're already dead.
And what do I do? Bust pickpockets on the metro?
Huh? I'm calling the public prosecutor.
- Who is it? - Kevellec.
Put me on, I know him.
We'll follow procedure. Don't worry. Trust me.
We can help you, Canto. Use us as backup.
You know my office can collaborate with any other police service.
I'll let you do your work.
Canvassing, surveillance cameras,
police records, all that shit.
OK.
But if we're working together, don't be trying to undermine me.
Don't break my balls. We're not strangers.
Can you find me a desk?
Yeah.
Then let's start by exhuming the old files from back in the day.
Someone's got out and wants revenge. We need to know who.
Yeah, anything else?
[suspenseful music]
Here, have some breakfast.
I got through to the prosecutor, it's all arranged.
Are we running this case?
- I'm acting as a consultant. - That doesn't mean much.
It means we can stay here and we have access to the files.
That's pretty good.
I have to say, your service record is impressive.
Yeah. That was before. In the golden age.
- Well, you found anything? - Nothing.
The guys you were arresting robbed vans with bazookas.
I don't see any link to a biologist manipulating plague bacteria.
Hm. That's what doesn't click.
The guys I'm thinking of would just put a bullet in our heads.
Nothing like the killer's MO. It's too sophisticated.
[text alert]
The Pasteur guys have finished the autopsy.
- Shall we go? - No, no.
You're going nowhere. I'll go.
Great.
You need to knuckle down, Camille.
The killer is here, in one of these reports.
I'll leave you a croissant. I'll take one for the road. See you.
"Thanks".
Casadesus died from the plague, in its most virulent, pneumonic form.
But we knew that already.
We have some new facts. Morillon's analysis just got back.
It's big.
The bacillus that killed your ex-colleagues was altered.
What do you mean, "altered"?
This bacteria isn't exactlyYersinia pestis.
The guy behind this has altered it and turned it into a unique weapon.
If you like, this is both good and bad news.
Start with the bad news.
Current medication doesn't do much against this strain.
You'd need months of research to adjust the treatment.
And what's the good news?
Somewhere out there, there's an antidote for it.
Yeah.
Except it's in the hands of the bastard who made it, right?
Jean-Pierre Levant... Ring any bells?
- No. - He was released three months ago.
- Impressive rap sheet. - Yeah, you said it. Come on.
This piece of work here is Jean-Pierre Levant.
Arrested 18 years ago. He worked at the Pasteur Institute.
But he had one fatal flaw.
He stole bacteria to send poisoned letters to women.
He's what you'd call a sociopath.
He killed two women and infected five others.
He copped a 25-year sentence, 17 years without remission.
Released three months ago.
But this nutjob vanished into thin air not long after release.
Hasn't been heard from in two months.
- Is he our suspect? - He may match the profile, yes.
But there's no link with my group or the victims.
This is the first time I've heard of him.
So what do we do?
Well, it'd be best to ask him ourselves, right?
Get to work, lads. Finding him is urgent.
He's our top priority!
What is it?
You need to ask your guys to research plague symbology.
- Research what? - They didn't pick it at random.
The plague holds meaning to them.
Look into history, fables, the Bible, all that.
Stop, hold on,
if Levant did this, why would he use symbolism?
- It's not his style. - Maybe an accomplice.
- Niémans? - Yeah?
I've got news on your guys.
So, Diego Paredes...
He died from cancer in 2017.
He's buried at the cemetery in Mont-de-Marsan.
Well, that's one less to worry about.
- Oh, very clever... - Is that all?
Still nothing on Pascal Fontenay.
But I've managed to find the group's fourth member.
Sylvain Blanchet. He lives in Issy-les-Moulineaux.
I tried contacting him, but he's not responding.
Shall we?
[angle grinder]
[rats squeak]
[thud]
[door bangs open]
[flies buzz, rats squeak]
[laboured breathing]
[dramatic music]
[squirting]
[siren]
- We've got a problem. - No kidding.
The rats have overrun the garden and sewage pipes.
The area might be infected. We have to evacuate.
And... Can you handle all that?
Not personally, no. But we have specialists.
The neighbours will need to be screened.
Shall we head back to Pasteur?
Yeah, I want to know what's in Blanchet's stomach.
[indistinct police radio]
Back away, please!
What the hell is this?
I'm betting the killer placed an infected rat inside.
Stand back, it'll jump right at us.
False alarm. Nothing alive in there.
The killer opened up the body. That's no easy feat.
Keep looking, there has to be something.
Just let us do our job.
You sure? Legally, two cops need to be present for an autopsy.
I thought we were past all that?
[beeping]
Where are we at with Blanchet's autopsy?
They're working on it. Find anything?
We evacuated, the Pasteur guys did tests,
and the media is asking questions.
But I've got news. My guys found Jean-Pierre Levant.
Where?
He lives in a camper van, near an abandoned hanger.
- Nobody dares go there. - Why?
The soil is saturated in chemicals, awaiting a clean-up operation.
Shall we prepare for a SWAT assault?
Hold on.
What if this guy is infected? He's got all the bacteria.
Yeah? Why not an atomic bomb too?
I'm telling you, this guy is nuts.
One wrong move, he'll infect everyone.
All right. Got a better solution?
Yeah. A smaller unit.
Me and Camille will go. Do it the old-fashioned way.
In your dreams!
You're just a consultant under my orders, remember?
Yeah, I remember. Come with us, then.
[dramatic music]
[door bangs open]
[indistinct echoing]
[noise echoes]
["O Mio Babbino Caro" echoes]
[door creaks open]
[music grows louder]
[aria continues]
[Niémans] Police! Stand up!
Stand up!
Take off your mask!
[Canto] Stop, stop, stop!
Don't move.
Hey, don't move! Stay where you are!
Easy! Easy!
Put it down, arsehole!
Put it down!
[thud, hissing]
[glass smashes]
Stop!
[dramatic music]
Camille! Camille, move!
[heavy breathing]
Stop!
[thud, cries out in pain]
[Camille moans] Shit!
[Camille groans]
[thud]
[efforts]
[grunting]
[thud]
[Levant laughs]
Oh, shit.
[gunshot]
[Levant groans]
[Camille] Your arm! Give me your fucking arm!
[Levant groans]
[handcuffs lock]
[Levant cries out in pain]
[thud]
[Levant laughs]
[Canto] Son of a bitch!
[Levant groans] What do you want?
Morillon, Casadesus, Paredes... Go on, I'm listening.
Don't know 'em.
[thud]
I don't fucking know 'em!
I need to step back, or I'm going to kill him.
All right, tough guy.
Look me at me. Look at me!
This is a no-go zone. We can do whatever we like.
We can bury you alive and nobody will miss you, got it?
[laughs]
Yeah, laugh it up, arsehole.
My friends are dead 'cus of the shit you're making.
Who's behind all this?
- It's not me. - I didn't catch that.
It's not me.
It's not me!
- It's not you, arsehole? - No!
Huh? It's not you?
Wait, wait.
It's not you? It's not you?
- Wait. - What?
- My arm hurts, take off the cuffs. - I don't give a shit about your arm!
I'll tell you!
I'll tell you...
Let him go, Camille.
[Levant groans]
I'm listening. I'm listening!
- A guy contacted me. - Who?
- I don't know. - You never saw him?
He had one of those bird heads.
Like those 17th-century doctors who treated plague victims.
[Niémans] What did he want?
He wanted me to grow a culture of Yersinia pestis.
- He supplied the samples. - How did he get them?
I don't know. I didn't ask questions.
I grew the bacteria, I got the money,
then I went back to my personal projects.
That all?
With this and your parole violation, that's another 10 years right there.
I'm not going back.
- Hey, where are you going? Hey! - What did you just do?
What the... He swallowed something!
Get him to spit it out, Canto! Get him to spit it out!
He put something in his mouth! Shit!
Fuck!
[Niémans groans in frustration]
Shit! Shit!
What?
[coffee machine buzzes]
We've been on this for 20 hours, and we've still got nothing.
- You still not found this Fontenay? - No, still nothing.
Any other prison releases?
Nobody fits our suspect profile.
None of them have any link to Niémans' group.
What about house-to-house?
Scene of crime?
- Nothing. Not the slightest clue. - Who's doing historical research?
- Me. - Find anything?
A few things.
OK, how about you show us?
We find Fontenay, we scrutinise Levant.
Analyse his phone records.
Local gang surveillance. I want the works.
Spit it out, Camille.
I saw the look on your face when Levant mentioned the bird mask.
Mean anything to you?
At Château-Rouge, while you questioned your lead,
I thought I saw someone with a mask like that.
You're telling me now?
- I didn't know it was important. - He might be our main suspect.
He might have been following us from the start.
Hey, Niémans.
Are we doing this now or never?
All right, I'm coming.
The most interesting lead I found is from the Old Testament.
One of the plagues of Egypt.
What do you mean, "plague of Egypt"?
"Moses threw the ash up in the air,
"causing skin sores and blisters to break out on people and animals."
It's an extract from Exodus.
Our killer chose divine punishment for the victims.
The killer has it in for you.
As he sees it, the time for punishment is nigh.
- Were your guys clean, or... - They were, and so was I, all right?
- We should still check, right? - Check what?
The usual, Niémans. Bank accounts, assets, the lot.
Yeah? Even if they were on the take,
divine punishment for bent cops is a bit much.
Yeah, unless they did worse.
Come across any bird masks in your research?
Yeah, of course.
They were worn by 17th-century doctors who treated the plague.
They were called "Beak Doctors".
They were meant to treat victims, but they just used their bodies.
The outfit came about under Louis XIII.
[TV] Good afternoon, we interrupt our schedule
with some very important breaking news.
As incredible as it may seem,
according to our sources, the plague has returned to Paris.
- An infected body... - Fred, come see this.
...was discovered in Issy-les-Moulineaux.
According to our reporters,
the word "plague" was mentioned several times.
Hey, guys! Take a look at this!
We have also learned
that all the inhabitants in the Chartreux neighbourhood
had undergone screening tests.
Contacted by our editors,
the Pasteur Institute denies any infectious outbreak in Paris.
The Health Minister has not confirmed our information.
He simply stated that this is merely a precaution,
and he has asked the population not to panic.
An investigation is underway to shine light on this affair.
All our teams are being mobilised...
[phone]
to keep you informed.
And here's a recap of today's top stories.
The plague has returned to Paris.
Yeah?
[Belmonte] Get over here. There's a new development.
What is it?
Get over here. You'll see for yourself.
Is Annequin with you?
Yes, he's here.
OK, I'll be right there.
Look right there.
On the surface of the tissue.
Really look at it, in detail.
"18th January 1998".
The killer opened the victim's thorax post-mortem,
then wrote this date on the organ.
No doubt using a surgical laser.
- A doctor? - Seems likely.
To use the tool and cut the tissue, you'd have to be a doctor or surgeon.
Can I have a word?
What's going on with the media?
Ministerial order. We're calling for calm.
Yeah? Won't the infection spread?
No, all the tests came back negative.
The rats will die off and the sewers are being disinfected.
Until a new order comes through, there's no need to worry.
[beeping]
We need to return to the archives and focus on 18th January 1998.
- Something must have happened then. - Yeah, but do you have any idea?
You're kidding. That's over 20 years ago, Camille.
Back then, we worked on several cases at once.
Setting up traps, shadowing, surveillance.
We spent our lives underground, trying to catch gangs red-handed...
Shit!
[dramatic music]
END OF THE LINE, MATE
Translation: Christopher Smith SDH Adaptation: Geoff Rowlands
Subtitling: DUBBING BROTHERS