All language subtitles for Slow.Horses.S02E05_EngCP

You are ready?

I've left this for them.
Leave it where they'll find it.

The weather over London is good.
You should see the target clearly.

You're gonna fly a bomb into the city.

Is that what you're doing?

There's a march.
Hundreds and thousands of people will die.

If they do,
it's because you failed to stop us.

I don't want to harm them.

They are my brothers and sisters
in the fight against capitalism.

The target is something the march goes by.

Something they are marching against.

It sticks up like a middle finger
to the poor.

The Glasshouse.

I'm going to break it.

Come on.

No. No.

Oh, my God.

No. No.

Oh, no.

No. No, no, no, no.

Is that Lamb?

What's he want?

In a couple of hours, I've got to drive
Judd through an anti-capitalist protest

to give a speech to a bunch of bankers.
It's a triple-decker shit sandwich.

I don't need you out here
waving your dick for that camera.

I need you to get me inside.
I mislaid my pass.

- You haven't had a working pass in years.
- Yeah, well, yours will stop working

when I tell Lady Di how you botched
the investigation into Harper's death.

Fuck off. He cycled straight into
oncoming traffic. Open and shut.

Yeah. Well, if you'd done more
than scratch the surface,

you'd have found a connection
between the driver and two Russian goons

who couldn't be more suspicious

if they had scars running down
their cheeks and... and glass fucking eyes.

Get in.

You think I don't know how to do my job.

I know you don't know how to do your job.

Let's have, uh, Diana Taverner decide,
shall we?

You don't even have her fucking number.

Oh, we sext all the time.
Yeah, it gets quite kinky.

Inside where, exactly?

Where all hope goes to die.

The interrogation cells?

Records.

Fuck it.

My mistake was answering the phone.

No. Your mistake
was forgetting Min Harper was one of mine.

People, not profit!
People, not profit! People, not profit!

Molly Doran.

Jackson Lamb.

Oh, the years have not been kind to you.

Mmm. Nor you.
I see your leg hasn't grown back.

The only advantage
is I shall never have to dance with you.

Christ. I'm getting your breath from here.

Really?
Well, I brush twice a month.

Yeah, you can fuck off now.

Yes, yes, yes. Fuck off.
I will not have the Dogs on my floor.

So what the hell are you doing here,
Jackson?

Nikolai Katinsky.

Moscow cipher clerk.
Came over in the early '90s.

Power struggles in the new FSB
meant old KGB were being purged.

I need to go over his file, full rectal.

- Morning.
- Morning.

I don't know what these guys have planned,
but I've got your back.

Yeah, thanks.

Have you figured out
what their game is yet?

Guess we're gonna find out.

Cheers.

Good morning.

- Morning.
- Morning. Good night's sleep?

My bed was a little cold.

You should ask for a discount.

- Shall we?
- Nope. Security first.

Feel free.

You two as well. In case you've forgotten
the rules about carrying.

Thank you.

No. I need to check that.

It contains sensitive documents.

And I have no intention
of hurting their feelings. Open it.

- We accept your apology.
- Okay. Looks like we're good to go.

Mm-hmm.

What's he doing?

I told the front desk
and his assistant that we're here.

- Shall I tell him again?
- Yeah.

Hello, this is Peter Judd.

Please leave message,
and I'll get back to you.

He's just on his way, sir.

Minister.

Thank you.

Are you going to be able
to manage the steps

at the Royal Exchange with that boot?

Let me just check my phone,
then I'm all yours.

- Why? You offering me your arm?
- No.

Let's go.

It's certainly put me off skiing.

I heard you slipped
getting out of a hot tub at your chalet.

Ah. A missed call from you.
Quite a few missed calls.

And a message.

Oh, you can ignore that.

Peter. Diana Taverner here.

Have you finished your toast yet?

Ooh, that's a keeper.

Second Desk of MI5 trying to keep a lid
on her rising anger

- at being treated like a common cabbie.
- I'm not angry, Peter.

Home Secretary, if you don't mind.

I am just trying to make sure
that you get to your speech on time.

We have a security schedule to stick to.

I know. And I'm sorry I made you wait,
but I was busy making you wait.

Well, if that's how you get your kicks,

it seems like a misuse of office to me.

Mmm. I really didn't appreciate it
when you came round to my house

to blackmail me into getting you
off the hook for a false flag kidnapping.

That I did not appreciate.

Of course, at the time,

I was a humble backbencher,
shit on your overpriced shoes.

But now I'm not only the holder
of one of the great offices of state,

I'm also your de facto boss.

I think you're just as exposed as I am.

We have
a mutually-assured-destruction pact.

I'm not quite sure where this is leading.

Well, for me it's leading to Number 10.

There is a massive protest
on the streets of London this morning,

and although the mood
in the crowd feels fairly benign,

there's a strong sense people are worried
about a lack of government transparency.

Do you think the current government
is doing enough

to tackle the tax evasion and avoidance,
for example?

Well, Judd claims
that the UK is leading a campaign

to change the international tax system.
But I don't feel we've seen any...

Have you heard from River?

Not since he planted his phone
on Chernitsky.

Shit. I hope he's okay
'cause it is fucking wild out there.

Nevsky's dead. They injected him
with radiation. Then he shot himself.

It was grim.

Did you take any pictures?

No, I didn't take any pictures.

Next time, take some pictures.

Why is Chernitsky heading into London?

Maybe to sample
the best our city has to offer.

Tussauds. Hard Rock Cafe.

Jesus Christ, Ho.
He's a killer, and he's heading into town.

I know. And we've got front-row seats.

Come on.

Come on. Come...

Her phone.

Yeah.

- Alex?
- Yeah. Yeah, it's me. It's me. It's Jon.

- Jonny?
- I'm at the flying club. Get here now.

What the fuck are you talking about?

- Where's Mum?
- She's on a plane.

Just come and get me now,
or you're not going to see her again.

Did you g...

Fuck. Ah, come on.

At the time, defectors like Katinsky
were ten a penny.

Nothing really to recommend him.
He was a minnow.

But this I think you'll appreciate.

I heard discussion of cicadas.

The man on this video

is the same shambling loser
I met the other day,

but he is not the same man
I spoke to on the phone tonight.

What was different?

He was ahead of me.

So? You're well past your peak.

Well, not so past it
that I can be bested by a dying minnow.

Interview paused at...

Which makes me wonder,
what if he's not a minnow?

What if he's a whale?

Do you have his defection form handy?
I need to see who signed him in.

Floor 47.

Comrade Pashkin.

- Arkady.
- Jim Webb.

How's this for a meet-cute?

Meet-cute?

Meet-cute is, uh, a term for the moment
in, uh... in television and films,

where the people who will go on
to form a romantic attachment

meet for the first time.

Anyway, I hope this is the start
of something beautiful.

Shall we?

The people are not happy!
The people are not...

- You're in the same clothes.
- Been here all night.

Chernitsky turned up in Upshott.
River planted his phone on him.

- We're tracking his journey into London.
- Where's River? Is he all right?

Don't know.

- Chernitsky stopped in the city.
- Could have another target.

You fancy a flutter on the method?

So far we've had death by poisoning,
traffic accident and radiation.

What do you reckon next? Sword?
Thumbs in the eyeballs?

Roddy, this is serious.

If we don't do something,
someone else is going to die.

You need to go after him.

He's a trained assassin. You go after him.

- I have some unfinished business.
- No, you don't.

Well, actually, Roddy, I do.

Last night I met the man
who put the Russians in touch with Webb.

He knows something, and he
was enjoying keeping it from me, so…

I'm gonna wipe the smile
off his smug face.

- Yeah, okay. Sure.
- Does Lamb know you did this?

Yes. Well, no.

And what did he say?

Probably what you're about to say.
"Don't bother."

What do you think you're gonna get?
Apart from Lamb's thumbs in your eyeballs.

I don't know, but I think he can tell me
how Pashkin and Katinsky are connected.

They're all in this together.

And why has Slough House
been dragged into this? We're nobodies.

Speak for yourself. I'm a somebody.

Then get out of your chair
and do something.

Come on, alpha dog.

Time to let you off the leash
and follow the scent.

Finally.

Some respect from you.

I know you're lying about Pashkin.

Did you make Webb meet you here?

He wouldn't have liked that.
Not his cup of tea at all.

Not his idea to use Slough House either.

That must have been requested.

By whom? You?

No, you only have opinions for money,
so Pashkin then?

Surely even you must know
words cost lives.

Well, I'm sure you could find a scapegoat

to take the blame
for the leak of whatever you tell me.

I mean, you've done it before.
Prague in '93. Zagreb in 2001.

I mean, you always find someone
to pay for your mistakes.

I didn't know you played.

If I win,
you tell me the truth about Pashkin.

Yes, and when I win,

you will drink,
and we will toast my victory.

I'm a gentleman. You play white.

Everyone knows
the PM can't win the next election.

It's only a matter of time before
he's shot in what's left of his balls

and toddles off to be a third-tier pick
on the speaking circuit.

And you will put yourself forward
for the leadership contest.

Oh, no.
I'll be reluctantly prodded into it.

I was at school with the PM, remember.
He's one of my oldest friends.

And I'm very loyal to my friends.

Oh.

And what would you like me to do
to demonstrate our newfound friendship?

You know how the party membership
loves security, defense and the like?

I'd like you to put out the word,
off the record,

that I am the only candidate you trust
to keep the nation safe.

This is the bit where you say,
"And in return?"

Why haven't you taken this to Tearney?

Unfortunately,
First Desk has already expressed doubts

about my being
a sufficiently serious character

to lead the country.

But then, I'm not sure if she's
a serious enough character to lead MI5.

- But I am?
- Undoubtedly.

So, do we have an understanding?

Ah. Now you're making me wait.

Nice. But I know you'll say yes.

Mmm. God.

That sounds like a line that you use
on one of your pitiful little mistresses.

Ah. Hey! Yeah, in here.

- Oh.
- Oh, my God.

- What the bloody hell's going on?
- What the fuck?

Thank God. Here, untie me.

Where's Mum?

- Told you, she took a plane.
- She doesn't fly.

Well, there's a Cessna missing
from your runway.

That's because she's on it.

No. Wait, wait, wait. Untie me.
Untie me first. Come on, come on.

Who took the plane?

I told you. She did.

- But who tied you up?
- She did.

- No, she didn't.
- Oh, what? You think I tied myself up?

Run that by me.

- Come on. Untie me now.
- Where's Leo?

Look, it's a long story.

I followed him here,
and then your mother turned up,

and she Tasered me in the neck.

- A Taser?
- Yeah. It really fucking hurt.

Why would she have a Taser?

Because she's a Russian sleeper agent.

No, she fucking isn't!

Have you met my mum?

Yes, she is. I actually thought
it was you at first, Duncan.

But I got that wrong.
It turns out it was her.

And what... Why would you think
I was a Russian agent?

Wait, why would you think that she was?

Oh, fuck. You were acting suspiciously,
really suspiciously.

But your mother gave herself away

when she turned up
and Tasered me in the neck.

Look, you have to trust me, right?
I'm not a journalist.

I'm an MI5 agent.

Right, okay.

I'm an MI5 agent,
and my name is River Cartwright.

That's an even more stupid name
than Johnnie Walker!

Jesus Christ. Look, Duncan,
you were suspicious of me

because she was acting strange
just before I turned up.

I'm right, am I right?

Was she disappearing all the time?

You know, taking phone calls
in the middle of the night?

Just, you know,
generally acting a little bit strange?

- She is not a Russian agent.
- She is a Russian agent.

She's been reactivated,
and they've stuck her on a plane.

- How come you've got her phone?
- Because she left it here.

- Why would she leave her phone?
- Because she's not coming back.

- For fuck's sake.
- Come on! Just untie me!

It's her wedding ring.

What the fuck's that doing here?

Because she's not coming back.

Please, just untie me.

- I don't get this.
- What?

"Duncan, I'm sorry. Forgive me.
I love you. Alex."

Okay, okay. I'm gonna humor you.
What is she doing on that plane?

She's gonna fly a bomb
into the Glasshouse.

- Yeah. Of course, she is. Jesus Christ.
- You're full of bullshit.

Look, I'm sorry. Look, I understand that
you're not going to get this right now.

I un... And it... And it's a lot to take in.
But you have to believe me

because hundreds,
maybe thousands of people,

they're gonna die
unless you untie me right fucking now.

Look, what if I'm right and you're wrong?
Huh?

How would I tie myself up?

People, not profit!
People, not profit! People, not profit!

Not a bad view, eh? It'll do.

Yes.

This is our haven, my friend. Our aerie.

Come on.
Don't you feel like a fucking eagle?

Anyway, shall we?

Shall we what?

Discuss how we put your boy
in the Kremlin.

Sit down, Mr. Webb.

So…
…to kickoff,

I thought maybe I should state
HMG's official position on this meeting.

I think first
we should discuss security for Mr. Nevsky.

This meeting is a dry run for him
to step in here with Diana Taverner.

And doing so will put him
at great potential risk.

Dry run?
You're doing yourself down, Arkady.

You and I,
we're the power behind the thrones.

Our bosses meeting,
it's... it's... it's a... it's a formality.

We get to make the world anew.
They just initial the changes.

Mr. Webb, if you're going to talk
this big, you need to get a better suit.

That's good. You had me there.

That's good. This is Cucinelli,
as I'm sure you're aware.

I am. And I will give you
the details of a real tailor.

Okay, that's good.
Well, I look forward to that.

Yes. That's it. Come on. Just...
Just pull... pull... pull the top bit down,

and then the rest will come out.
That's it. Oh, fuck.

Go ahead.

Cartwright, agent five, two, six, three.

Access code,
Delta, Bravo, eight, two, seven.

What do you report?

Code September.

Seeking authorization.

Understood. Standing by.

Alex, please respond.

I don't want to believe you're doing
what I think you're doing.

I love you. Please.

Let me try.

Mum.

Mum, it's me.

I don't care who you are
or what you do. Just...

You're my mum.

I know that's true.

I love you. Please.

Please don't do this. Please, Mum.

She's cut us off. Ah, fuck.

People, not profit!

Yes?

What's the military assessment?

Who called it in?

Put him through.

Ma'am.

- You called a Code September?
- Yes, ma'am.

Air traffic control affirmed
there are no commercial

or military flights off course.

Well, it's a small plane, ma'am.
But it's packed with explosives,

and it's headed directly
for the Glasshouse.

You are absolutely sure?

I pull the cord on this
and there's no going back.

- I'm sure, ma'am.
- You better be right.

This is Second Desk. Give me 30 seconds,
then call a Code September.

We have to leave now.

Because of that lot?

Not on your nelly.
I'm not scared of some smelly lefties.

There has been an alert.

Wha... Well, one of those twats
has thrown a brick through the window.

It's Code September.
We have to evacuate now.

As in September the 11th?

Chuck out Judd!
Chuck out Judd! Chuck out Judd!

Do you mean some fucker's flying
a plane into one of these buildings?

Not just a building.
The Glasshouse.

That's right above our heads!

What are you waiting for? Drive.

Thank you, Lee.

"Code September."

"Primary target, the Glasshouse Building."

"Reported explosives. A Cess... "

There's... There's a...
A... a fucking Cessna with explosives on

f-flying from the Cotswolds
to the Glasshouse.

Don't you have agents
in both those locations?

Yeah, I do. Christ.

Fucking paperwork's gonna be a ball-ache.

Check. I have this ready for you.

Please stay calm. Keep moving.

It's Marcus. Leave a message.

Louisa
can't get to the phone right now.

Please leave a message after the tone.

Everyone's gone to fucking voice mail.

Mmm, you cannot win.

Police are diverting marchers
away from the streets

around the Glasshouse Building.

But with no detail,
panic and speculation has set in.

The entire London transport network,
now apparently shut down.

The speed of this evacuation
will be hampered.

Have you made the call?

Yeah. Yeah. Done.
Yeah. U-Uh, thank you.

Is he okay?

- No.
- Right.

So, what happens next?

Well, they'll evacuate all the buildings,
shut down the transport...

No. No. I mean to my mum.

Oh, right. Well, they'll, um,

scramble fighters
and try and talk her down.

Right. And if, uh... if they can't?

Uh...

Okay.

Code September, what the fuck?

That can't
stop us finding Chernitsky.

- He's been stationary for five minutes.
- Where?

That car.

This is a security announcement.

Please evacuate the station.

Phone must be in the coat.

Well, we tried.

- He's going to catch a train.
- We need to get out of the city!

We need to find him!

Ah!

Check.

Thank you for your queen.

This reminds me of playing with my father.

Did he always beat you?

He hated losing,
so I always played two games.

One on the board, where he won.
And one in my head, where I did.

He was also quite open
about my chess-playing.

Telling me where I was going wrong,
how I'd lost all my key pieces,

that I was going to lose the game.

Just like you.

And just like you, he never knew
that I was secretly winning.

Checkmate.

The Immortal Game.

Adolf Anderssen and Lionel Kieseritzky,
the 21st of June 1851.

Here in London.

Anderssen sacrificed both rooks,
a bishop and his queen,

then checkmated Kieseritzky
with three minor pieces.

I've always wanted to try that.

And now you have.

And now you tell me what I want to know.

I don't.

Yes, you do.

- You're leaving me with no alternative.
- To what?

I have your file.

Maybe those who were
unexpectedly beaten or arrested

because of your triple dealings

would like to know
the part you played in their misery.

You won't do that.
You don't have it in you.

That's your gamble then, isn't it?

What?

Krymov met Katinsky,
not Pashkin.

He's been pulling
the strings the whole time.

He's the one who made sure
Slough House was involved.

Wha... Why?

He wants someone in Slough House,

and the only someone there is you.

Ah...
Well, that makes no fucking sense.

A-Are you drunk?

Listen, you wanna make yourself useful,

tell Marcus and Louisa
to get the fuck out of that building.

Katinsky's intake.

Who signed him in?

Apparently, you did.

Ugh. You beast.

Yeah, I know. It, uh... It lingered.

I never signed this.

Are you sure?
You were drinking a fair bit back then.

Hmm. When have I not?

Yeah, besides... Yeah,
I was in Prague when this was signed.

Can you prove that?

No. No.
It was off the books.

The Yanks thought they had first dibs
on defectors.

Uh, the Foreign Office ordered us
to hang back, but I went in anyway.

How many people knew that?

Well, enough to make it hard for me
to point the finger.

Although one candidate does stand out.

We had a traitor, Molly. Right at the top.

I think he signed Katinsky in.

And this traitor was running Katinsky...

No, no, no, no.
Katinsky was running our traitor.

Katinsky mentioned cicadas at his debrief

to make us think he was a nobody.

And in one sense,
he's even less than a nobody.

He's a ghost.

Cicadas were meant to be a fiction,
dreamt up by a made-up spymaster.

Nikolai Katinsky was that spymaster.

Fuck me.

And he's dying.
And he has unfinished business.

Christ, Standish was right.

What did she say?

She said she knows what he wants.

Me.

This is a three-pronged campaign,

online, internationally and in person.

You run bots and influencers.

We bend the ear of our allies,
and then Nevsky returns to Russia

to campaign on the ground. Bingo.

After his sweeping victory,

you and I take a bow, as the king...
Oh, come on.

Security alert.
Make your way to the nearest exit.

I'm su...
I'm sure that's just a test.

It's not a test.
We'd know about it.

It's an evacuation alarm.
We have to leave, Webb. Now.

Oh, my fuck. Is this a joke?

Sorry. We will set up
a new meeting shortly, I promise.

A different location…
…a better location.

Certainly a different security team.

Can you please find out
why the fucking alarm

- is going off and ruining...
- Stop talking, please.

You two, sit.

- What the fuck are...
- Sit down.

- Arkady. Explanation, please.
- Hands on the table.

- He's a fraud. Guessing FSB.
- You work for Nevsky.

Nevsky's dead.

What do you mean Nevsky's dead?

These guys assassinated him.

Make your way to the nearest exit.

Piotr.

Right, this makes absolutely no sense.

Hands on the table.

Security alert.
Make your way to the nearest exit.

Okay, I'm sorry.
Can you just put that fucking...

- Silence. Shut up.
- What the fuck is going on?

Or I shoot you in the mouth.

Sit down.

No, no. Enough, enough. Enough.

- Yeah? You can't do this.
- Sit. Sit down. You stupid pig.

I'm a representative
of Her Majesty's Government.

No... So, put that fucking popgun down now,
before I...

Shit.