Original subtitles

Have a nice holiday and mind how you go.

You can get dressed now, Mr. Talmadge.

Okay, am I, Doc?

Better than okay.

You're in disgustingly good health.

Go for a few more years, then.

You'll probably live until you're 90.

Talmadge?

Talmadge is no more.

And in another hour or so, Dick Palmer will join him.

We're doing well, Tucker.

You too.

And who's next on our list?

George Myers, special security agent, exceptional knowledge of foreign

Well, he'll be sorely missed, won't he?

Along with Talmadge and Palmer.

Yes, we're doing exceptions.

Exceptionally well.

Everything going according to plan.

And in the not -too -distant future, we shall be able to...

Dick Palmer!

Dick Palmer?

Didn't you recognize him?

He's already a dead man.

Fiverr, even money? You're on.

Dead heat?

Photo finish. Hello.

Steed.

Palmer.

Dick Palmer.

Palmer? What's happened, you son? I'm dead.

What?

Where are you?

It's no good.

Palmer!

Listen, you can't save George Myers.

Well, you see, he's next.

They're going to kill him next.

Palmer, what is this?

He's dead.

That's what he said.

I'm already dead.

The line's still open, but there's nobody answering.

I'm already dead.

But we can save George. George Myers.

We've got to find him and warn him. Fine.

Warn him of what?

I don't know.

But wherever he is, he's in deadly danger.

Do you know why I beg this, little buddy?

So you could get me on my own, ask me out to dinner, worm your way into my

affections, date me regularly, ask me to marry you, have five scruffy children,

and live happily ever after.

Also because your car isn't dark and we both happen to be going to the same

place.

No, you were right the first time.

It shows, eh?

Neon lights, ten foot tall.

Birdie, the way I feel about you... It's the way I object to.

You're a very wonderful human being, Paddy. But a terrible kangaroo.

You do like me a little, then.

I like you a lot.

But then I like Beethoven a lot.

The difference is he's dead and I'm very much alive.

But you're playing in the wrong key.

You understand I'm only here as an observer.

unofficial observer.

Nevertheless, Colonel Elenco... Please, I prefer to be known by my American

cover name, Paul Malloy. Mr. Malloy, your presence here is a great honor.

Any honors, Mr. Drake, should be aimed in your direction.

You have invented the perfect killing machine.

Subtle, faultless, undetectable. So long as we use it sparingly. Exactly.

To overuse such a perfect method might attract attention.

Nevertheless, your score is mounting. Congratulations.

Thank you. We're thinking of opening a branch in America.

America?

That's why I'm here, to observe.

Unofficially.

We understand each other.

America would be very fruitful.

Secret Service, CIA, FBI.

All perfect targets for your perfect machine.

Thank you. I don't drink. You must drink this.

It's a precautionary measure.

Oh, of course.

Well, then, if I must drink, the toast should be a brave one.

To your... To our next victim.

And who is to be the next unlucky victim?

George Myers.

But if our information is correct,

you may get two for the price of one.

George Myers.

And this beautiful young lady.

And continue.

When you're ready, in your own time,

begin.

Quiet!

You've just killed John Steed, a friend and ally.

Oh, he won't like that!

Well done, Mr. Myers.

Well done, George.

Very well done.

Ninety -seven percent.

Ninety -seven?

It's three percent. It kills you. One, two, three. Just the same. It's a very

commendable score.

Has anyone ever got a hundred percent?

John C.

Three times in a row.

I've always wondered if you were speaking.

Nobody else?

No. So far?

Best of your chances, then.

Think you can break my score?

Ninety -seven.

I aim to try.

When you're ready, Mr Bradshaw.

Right.

Care to bet on it?

What on?

A hundred pounds against a dinner date tonight?

Oh, I like that. Makes me feel expensive.

You are expensive, Paddy.

Like a million dollars.

Care to convert that into the currency of the realm?

Pound sterling.

Please proceed.

Ready? Ready.

Begin.

Purdy, sorry, there's a call for you, Steed.

He wants you right away.

Pity.

Just as I was beginning to enjoy myself.

Thank goodness.

Are we pleased to see you? It's imperative.

Urgent. Desperate. What on earth? Where's George? George Myers.

George? We were supposed to be with him today.

What is the matter of fact? It's potential we find him, Purdy.

Find him right away.

Well, if you'd let me get a word in edgeways, I'll tell you where he is.

Outside in my car.

Someone's trying to kill me.

But who?

Don't know.

Where? Don't know.

Well, tell me. Don't know that either.

Oh, come on, fellas. I'm due for a routine medical, then two weeks' leave

starting now.

This is serious, George.

Oh, certainly, with such exact information backing it up.

Becky Palmer gave us the information.

Dick, what else did he say? That he's dead.

He told you he was dead?

That's the gist of it.

Look,

I don't know what's going on.

Do you know that Dick Palmer's dead?

Not yet.

Dick Palmer?

I'm going on leave. No, no, you're not.

Gambit.

Not until we're sure.

Look, Steed.

Yes?

What?

They found Palmer.

Yes.

How?

I see.

He's dead.

Well, George, how do you feel about that?

George!

Natural causes?

Work a man to the limit.

Work a man too hard and something has to give.

In this case, the man.

And you are working them too hard these days.

What, four in, well, as many weeks?

Four. Well, there's Talmadge.

He died during his medical.

Hmm, ironic.

And there's this chap who dropped dead first day of his leave. Fishing, I think

he was. Potterton. Oh, that's right, Potterton.

And before him, that chappy Mackay.

Obviously you are working them too hard.

What, four in just under four weeks? Five. What?

Of course we all work hard, Dr. Kendrick, but not that hard. Now, don't

precondition yourself to natural causes. Look at anything, anything at all

suspicious.

George Myers.

Oh, it's superb, Drake. Quite, quite superb.

The better the agent, the longer it takes to die.

And the less likelihood of them ever tracing back to the cause of death.

Yeah?

Of course. I don't want to be hoist with my own pet dog.

A dose of our own medicine.

Then death is not always instantaneous.

Very rarely.

As you said, the better the agent, the longer it takes.

The superb agent may receive only two or three doses. The victim then falls into

coma and death follows, perhaps minutes, perhaps hours later.

The better the agent.

And by all accounts, this one is very good indeed.

Yes, it's certainly unusual.

That's why I called you, Steve.

You asked me to check for anything out of the ordinary. Anything suspicious.

And?

George Mars died of natural causes. There's no doubt about that.

But, see here.

Just below the shoulder.

Three tiny marks.

Barely pinpricks.

What about Palmer and Talmadge?

Yes, I re -examined them.

Both have similar marks.

Three on Palmer's chest.

Four on Talmadge's left arm.

What do you think made them?

I've no idea.

And it in no way changes my diagnosis of death, natural causes.

It is odd.

I agree.

And there's another oddity.

Check and recheck. Isn't that what you asked of me?

I went over the clothing of the dead men again.

Talmadge and Myers, nothing.

But Dick Palmer...

An inkblot? A squash beetle, found on Palmer's Shoe.

Well, aren't you going to ask me what's the point?

All right, what is the point?

Ah, the point is that I wouldn't expect to find that species of beetle outside

the South American jungle.

No interruption at this time.

No interruption.

Feeling confident, eh?

I think my eye...

It's in today?

Yes, you can shoot, all right. Make an all -shoot.

What about your reflexes?

I think they're OK.

All right, Jones.

I think she's made her point.

Right, Purdy.

In your own time, begin.

It's intolerable.

No sooner do I get these files organised than your people come along and want

something out.

Files are for keeping, for putting away, not for taking out all the time.

If you want to keep looking at files, then you should get a set of your own.

mine can remain neat and catalogued and undisturbed. I doubt I'll be able to

find anything after you've gone. I'm sorry, Miss.

Taking them?

Taking them?

Five less for you to file.

It's rape.

Rape.

One gun for you, and that makes two of us.

Steed and me.

We've both got 100%. Sorry, 99%. What? I'm sure that... The machine

doesn't make mistakes.

99%. Yes, it was the back shooter that got you.

The same that got you.

The back shooter?

You took the machine gunner there, run along the gantry.

Yes.

Back shooter appeared on the roof behind you.

Oh, that's unfair.

That's despicable. That's downright dirty.

The people we come up against often are.

Mr. Bradshaw. Mr. Gamble.

I'd like to think there was a rule book.

Cricket and all that.

But there isn't a book. Just one rule.

Stay alive.

I got 99 cents.

Yes, but it's the one percent that killed you.

What are you doing here?

Looking for you.

And now you've found me, what are you doing here? A little chat.

If you'll excuse me.

I get lonely, you see.

You'll be a recluse if you don't get to the point.

Bradshaw. Steve.

Mr. Steve, yes. Yes,

they're both here. Do you want me to... No, just give them a message from me.

Right.

Tell them I'm going out the Amazon.

You're doing what, sir?

I'm going to see a Professor Lopez.

Got that?

Lopez.

Yes, I've got that, sir.

George Myers and co.

Five top men, dead for natural causes.

Five supreme examples of manhood struck down in their frown.

Is there a pattern?

Not that I can see.

Why didn't you say so?

You want the benefit of my incisive mind.

No.

Just a second opinion.

You must not be premature, Plocher.

Thank you.

They're on to Lopez.

How? Don't ask me how. They are.

Steed's on his way over there now.

You know, if he talks, they'll... It's all right. We'll handle it.

Not going to choke him.

Right. Right, Sean.

What about Ferdy?

She's dead.

You're right. There doesn't seem to be any link.

Poston, Mackay, Dick Palmer, they were all on home leave.

They weren't working actively on anything at all.

Leave.

That's it. Leave.

George was going on leave. So was Talmadge.

That's the link. Yes.

But to what?

Oh, I don't know, Gambit. You'll have to sort that one out for yourself.

As from now, I'm going on a week's leave of absence.

Oh, come on. Who'd want to kill me?

Me.

Unless you promise to get in your car, go straight home, lock the door and

open it until you hear from me.

Mike. Now promise, will you?

All right.

But it does make me seem awfully stupid.

Better to be stupid than dead.

Gambit, you're behaving like an old mother hen.

But I do... You do what, me?

Leave.

Before you go on leave, you have a check.

Practical and medical.

Section 37, paragraph 24.

Bradshaw! Bradshaw!

Bradshaw, don't move.

I've got you covered.

You're in a trap.

You backroom boys are always working out new ways to keep us on our toes.

Now it's your turn.

No.

You're dead, Bradshaw.

No!

Now you see how it feels.

Now come back in here, Brady, old boy.

I've got something more serious to talk to you about.

Rachel.

Rachel!

Bradshaw, what's wrong?

Braddy, it was only a joke.

It's the Heath's hat.

His hat.

Heath's hat.

Bradshaw!

I'm dying.

Dead.

I'm dying in seconds.

One hit.

I've been hit, doesn't...

comfortable over here, Mr. Steve.

I'm sorry about the heat, the humidity.

Have to keep the place at tropical temperature, else every damn plant will

on me.

Suggest you take off your high jacket.

If the plant can take it, I can.

I just think cool.

And try this.

It's a distillation of my own brew.

Whiskey, weed, bark, and a little touch of snakehead.

You like it?

A little strong on the snake head.

Well, it opens the pores, cools the body.

You think I'm eccentric?

I think you're psychic.

Yes, it's a weird way to live, I agree with you.

But scientifically necessary.

The flora and fauna of the South American Amazon kept alive here in

Professor Lopez, I believe you recently met a friend of mine.

Who? Dick Palmer.

Oh, yes.

Charming fellow.

He had two glasses of my special brew.

Thank you.

That's the way I judge a man.

Intestinal fortitude.

So why did Dick Palmer come to see you?

For curare.

Curare. Stuff the natives tip their poison darts with. Or that and a hundred

derivatives.

Used in minor doses in modern medicine.

Fantastic. Tactic stuff. It paralyzes the heart muscles.

So if a man died of it, it could be put down to natural causes.

A refined version might.

Terribly difficult to detect.

Terrible stuff altogether. I should know.

Working with it, I scratched myself. Had to take immediate action.

Could I?

Getting to you, eh?

So the merest scratch could be fatal.

Would be. I tell you, Mr. Steed, I don't work with it anymore. Not unless I have

a bottle of antidote at my elbow.

It's deadly.

And in the right hand.

Quite undetectable.

And in concentrated form, almost instantaneous.

As I told your friend, Dick Palmer.

Professor Lopez.

Professor! Dick Palmer.

Extraordinary. Without the benefit of autopsy, my diagnosis is natural causes.

You'd better try again, Doc.

I was with Bradshaw when he died.

He knew he was going to die.

Just like Dick Palmer.

Now, one case of premonition I can accept, but two, try again.

Look!

There.

Must be a dozen at least.

More than a dozen.

That's what Bradshaw said.

What are they? I don't know.

Vitamin insect?

Skin infection?

Try curare.

Test for curare.

It's virtually undetectable.

But if you look very closely now, isn't that possible, Dr. Kendrick?

It's outside my experience.

There are tests, yes.

Of course, it'd be easier and quicker if I had some form of comparison.

I can arrange for that, too.

Professor Lopez that was.

It's 99 % certain that he died from curare poison.

Yes, but it's the 1 % that kills you.

Eh? Oh, nothing. Nothing important.

I think.

A strategic withdrawal.

It makes obvious sense.

Your perfect killing machine is still perfect, but in serious jeopardy.

It must be closed down, suspended for a while.

A few months at the most, and... Of course, I'm only an unofficial observer.

A remarkably astute one, Colonel Lenko.

Yes, you're right.

Tiny slivers of ice.

Infantesimal. Evidence, Raker.

Evidence.

Evidence that I can flush away with one cup full of water.

And yet, it still frightens me.

One scratch.

The tiniest breaking of the skin.

Still frightens me.

But that's good, eh, Colonel?

Never to grow contemptuous or overconfident of something so very

You're immune, you.

Swig that antidote at every opportunity. Every hour on the air.

They only show protection.

But even so, I'm still frightened.

I'll be happier when Steed is out of the way.

Well?

Curare? It could be.

It is.

Undetectable.

Administered through the merest scratch.

But how?

All those agents were on leave, or about to go.

That means a medical check -up. Poison stethoscope?

I'm in charge of the medical division.

Then it has to be some other way.

An ordinary blowpipe.

But why only those who are going on leave?

Plot to disrupt the tourist board.

That's funny.

Not the way I said it.

Those little red marks, they've been bothering me, but I remember now.

Let's check back through the files. When I was a child, the boy next door shot

him with an air pistol, hit me in the hand.

Left a very similar little red mark.

Guns. Was staring us in the face. The medical, the practical test.

The target range. Simulated combat.

People firing at us all the time. From every angle. We expect to be hit. One

and you're dead.

Purdy.

Purdy went through there a couple of hours ago.

Oh, sorry, Tony.

What is this?

Oh, Paddy, you're awake.

Well, what girl could sleep through two men bursting into her bedroom? We were

worried about you.

Judging from your behaviour, I should be worrying about you. It's good to find

you alive.

Oh, you're not still going on about that, are you? But you were hit. She was

hit. We were wrong.

You were hit.

Only 99%. And it's the 1 % that kills you.

Doctor. Kendrick.

Feed it dead, or it will be.

Excellent.

But there'll be inquiries.

The target range... We'll close it down right away.

Remove all evidence.

Tucker?

Colonel Lenko.

An unofficial observer?

Well, there'll have to be a report.

The means of your killing machine are without question.

But the method and your administration of it... Oh, yes.

There'll have to be a report.

I was afraid of that.

Craker!

That's it, Colonel.

We must remove all evidence.

Curare. We know that.

What we want is the antidote. I've been trying to locate a supply all day.

Then where is it?

A lethal dose of curare is unknown in this country. Why would we keep an

antidote on hand? We mustn't let her die.

Antidote.

What?

Your hat.

What?

Your bowler hat.

If she dies... I know, I feel the same.

I'll hunt them down and I won't stop until I've found them.

We'll hunt them down. She means as much to me as she does to you.

But we're all expendables.

I know the rules, Steve.

But it'd be dirty.

If she dies,

if she dies, I'll save her, I'll save

her.

Must unload every gun. No evidence.

No...

Dean.

Dean!

Birdie.

We gotta help Birdie.

Dean! Oh, Birdie.

We have him, Joko.

We have him cold.

We know where he's going.

We know what he's heading for.

You aren't going to shoot.

Now, you shoot and I drop this bottle.

Now, please.

The gun.

Anything you say.

Steve, I, uh... I think you ought to let me have that.

Kat.

She's coming round.

Some party.

Yes. And lucky for you, we brought a bottle.

Are we going on somewhere?