All language subtitles for 629. Requiem

(theme music plays)

Any sign of him,
Harriet?

Not yet.

Woman: Perhaps he won't come.

Of course, he'll come.

I made the most
stringent enquiries

with regard
to his activities.

Of course, he'll come,
Georgina.

If you say so, Harriet.

Why, I know it's wicked of me,

but... I really am
looking forward to this.

So you should after the trouble
it took planning it.

Here he comes now.

He's here.
Here.

He's here.

- Ready, Georgina?
- Ready, Harriet.

How we'll surprise him.

It's really quite chilly
this evening.

No, no.

My mother would
never forgive me.

- Nephew.
- Dear nephew.

A very happy birthday to you.

A happier birthday.

Aunt Harriet, Aunt Georgina,
what a lovely surprise.

- We meant it to be.
- We planned it that way.

- Both: We brought you these.
- For your birthday.

Georgina: We do hope you
like them.

Delightful, absolutely
delightful.

Thank you very much, aunties.
Thank you.

Rhonda, some tea.

- Would you like some tea?
- Please.

- And a large whiskey for me.
- Whiskey?

We're disappointed in you.

Purely for medicinal purposes.

We thought you'd have five
fingers of Old Red Eye.

- What?
- We read all the spy books,
you know.

Five fingers of Old Red Eye
is the conventional thing.

Oh, I see.

Five fingers
of Old Red Eye.

Well, dear nephew,
what's been happening, eh?

Are you just back
from an assignment?

Yes, I am.

Then you're healed
at the moment?

- Healed?
- Yes.

Are you carrying a gat,
a rod?

A good old equalizer?

No, I'm afraid
I am not carrying a gat.

Karate is enough
for you, eh?

Yes.
The good old killing blows.

I suppose you wouldn't like
to chop that table in half

for us, would you?

No, as a matter of fact,

I haven't been
too well recently.

Well, could you arrange a trip
for us round the Black Museum?

Or the morgue?

Georgina: Either would be
equally entertaining.

No, I'm afraid that
won't be too easy.

We thought you'd amuse us.

We really hoped.

Well, I... I...

What about a story?

Georgina:
An inside story.

A story?

Georgina:
A true story,

torn from the annals of time,

every fiber of emotion
laid bare.

Every gory fact presented
in its ghastly factuality.

A story?

The real thing.

A true story.

Well, now...

the great
Great Britain crime,

- the crime of the century.
- Wow.

How did it start?
With a killing, eh?

Yes, I'm afraid it did.

You see, one of the agents
was on the trail

of something inexplicable,
something...

big.

Mother: He had been lured
to a night rendezvous

but found it to be a trap.

Two arch-villains
awaited him intent on...

Harriet:
Rubbing him out?

Mother: Intent on engineering
his demise.

He tried to make his escape
up some scaffolding nearby.

Harriet: Why do they always
run up?

Mother: Because... because
they always do, that's why.

He couldn't shake
his pursuers.

They stalked him relentlessly.

But one of the villains planned
to put a spanner in the works.

Things looked black.

And then putting all his
strength into one last effort,

summoning all his reserves,

he made one prodigious leap
and gained safe ground.

But then...

Well, go on, go on.
What happened then?

He fell.

(screams)

As soon as the news of this
agent's death reached me,

I knew I was onto
something big,

inexplicable.

You've already said that once.

I was just reinforcing
the point.

Well, what happened next?

A second agent stumbled
on the same trail.

But he too became
a hunted animal,

running from an armed villain.

Georgina: He's the one who
put the spanner in the works.

Mother: Our man continued his
desperate run to get away,

but then he spied succor.

Georgina: A prisoner
of war camp?

Mother: A fire post.

He strolled to get there,
to call headquarters.

Alas, he was foiled
in his endeavor.

Gosh.

You were really having
bad luck, weren't you?

It happens.
It happened again.

This gang organization
knew no bounds.

They were ruthless,
utterly ruthless.

Mother: They struck again,

catching our man off-guard
when he was enjoying

a quiet pint
in a local hostelry.

But... but this time,

our agent managed
to contact headquarters

with a message

- before he was gunned down.
- Convenient.

The message consisted
of one word.

Help?

Intercrime.

Surely, that's two words.

Intercrime.

It's the first hint
that we had

that this organization
was really organized.

I put the word out,

"Find out all you can
about Intercrime."

That's seven words.

Informers were primed.

I was prepared to pay
any amount for information.

Then I sat back and waited
and waited.

And waited.

That was when
we got our first nibble.

A man named Cartwright
contacted Steed

and said he had information
we might be able to use.

He would deliver it at Steed's
apartment personally.

But what he didn't know
and what we didn't know...

Was that he was driving
straight into a trap.

An ambush.

Mother:
His car was blocked, stopped,

and Cartwright himself
dragged from it brutally,

with utter disregard that
his suit might be creased,

torn, irreparably ruined.

Cartwright was taken away by
the murky minions of Fuller.

Georgina: Who's Fuller?

Mother:
I was coming to him.

Fuller is second in command
of the Intercrime England.

Nerveless, ice-cold,
he cared not for life,

limb or status.

His only joy was money,
so imagine his delight

when he found
Cartwright's piggybank.

- Meanwhile...
- (machine-gun fire)

it was over.

Cartwright was dead.

Things looked
very grave indeed.

Or did they?

Georgina:
Well, did they?

Mother:
On the surface, yes.

- But...
- Harriet: But?

Mother:
Beneath the surface,

Fuller and his execution squad,

satisfied that all was well,
made their getaway.

But little did they know
that Cartwright had survived.

Cartwright lived.

Just a minute.

Cartwright was riddled
with bullets.

Precisely.

- Then how could he...
- Bulletproof vest.

He is one of those
sort of fellows.

Cartwright struggled out
of his grave

in his bulletproof vest

and made his way to where
Tara King and John Steed

were waiting for him.

What's your information,
Cartwright?

- You'll pay me?
- That depends.

You know that Intercrime
are after me?

What's Intercrime?

The opposite to Interpol.

Interpol helps the police
against the criminals.

Intercrime helps the criminals
against the police.

I see.

That's a robbery that Intercrime
have set up for tomorrow.

Bond Street Jewelers.
Well, it's not my line at all.

- You ought to know that,
Cartwright.
- It's a diamond consignment

worth three quarters
of a million pounds.

Well, ask Scotland Yard.
They'll help you.

- I know something
that is for you.
- What?

They're planning on
a big crime.

The crime of the century,
they call it.

Mother:
The crime of the century.

It was our first information
that such a crime was planned.

But it was being planned in
the headquarters of Intercrime,

the most powerful
criminal organization

in the whole world.

Man:
Those against.

The motion fails.

Before our next
annual general meeting,

which will take
place in Tokyo,

I should like to
urge our members

from the United States
and the USSR to reconsider

the application of
the Chinese Tong society.

The political differences
of our governments

are no concern of ours.

Well, gentlemen, I think that
concludes today's business.

We haven't dealt
with the robbery.

I should like to postpone
discussion on that subject

- for the time being.
- Look here, Dunbar,

we're all over
in this country of yours

for one reason...
To see if Intercrime

can pull off what you call
the crime of the century.

What I would like to know
is what century?

There are still preparations
to be made, Mr. Jackson.

Look, if you're up to
your old tricks again...

Mr. Dunbar is our
elected president.

Yeah, and I know
how he rigged that.

The cars are waiting?

- Yes, Mr. Dunbar.
- Well, gentlemen,

your sightseeing continues today
with Buckingham Palace.

John:
Buckingham Palace?

Do you think they could be
planning

to raid
Buckingham Palace?

Tara: Well, if they did,
then how would they come in?

Steed:
Several approaches.

This way or Hyde Park corner,

Buckingham Palace gardens...

- I say, old man...
- Birdcage walk

and the Horse Guards parade.

I say, old man,
this suit is rather well-cut.

Very well-cut.
You look awfully good, Freddie.

- Do you really think so?
- Hmm, don't you, Steed?

- Yes, I do.
- Oh, good.

- I'd say, old man...
- The brandy's over there,
old man.

Thanks, old man.

The Queen's apartment's there,
the banqueting rooms,

picture gallery...

Of course, they might have
come in from the embankment

along the sewers, the back way.

That would mean they'd surface
alongside the flamingo pool,

outside the stables or in
the middle of the parade ground.

Oh.

Well, there's always
the direct approach.

Sorry.
What time is the robbery?

What?

Not this, the Bond Street
diamond consign.

Oh, 2:30.
There'll be two men and a woman.

The men will be dressed
as window cleaners.

Mother: Two men
dressed as window cleaners,

some might have said they
looked like complete fools.

But, well, (chuckles)
appearances can be deceptive.

- Rossi?
- Si.

- Kruger?
- Yeah.

What's the alarm system?

Thomson Partridge mark 6
electronic eye warning system

locked from head office,
two meters from door height,

at 30 centimeters.

(speaks foreign language)

(speaks foreign language)

The regular window cleaners
go in at exactly 15:00 hours.

Make sure you're there
by 14:30.

- Yeah.
- Good luck.

Intercrime had planned
a jewel robbery

and we planned
to let it happen.

Why?

A stakeout,
isn't that it, aunts?

Let the heist happen,

follow the hoods
back to their pad,

bring up the heavy mob,
open fire with Tommy guns,

gats, tear gas.

(chuckles) That's how it
happens, isn't it?

No, no,
it doesn't really, no.

- Now where were we?
- The Bond Street heist.

Ah, the Bond Street heist.

Just a minute.
You made Tara King a blonde.

- Yes.
- I've seen her.

- She's a brunette.
- That's right.

Now look here, aunts,
this is my story,

and if I wish to make Tara King
sky blue, pink, I will.

Oh, you're so forceful.

Now let us get back to
the hei... the robbery...

Simply planned,
simply executed.

Mother: Kruger and Rossi
overpowered their victims.

The spoils were theirs.

But outside,
Steed and Tara were waiting

with an equally simple plan.

Little did Rossi and Kruger
know what fate awaited them.

But as they ran
from the jewelers,

the robbers were robbed.

Harriet: They were
two complete fools.

Mother: Well, I told you,
appearances could be deceptive.

Anyway, our plan had worked.

But we made two mistakes.

To continue,
we made two mistakes.

The first was to assume
that Intercrime

had a sense of humor,
they didn't.

Execution department, please.

You said you made
two mistakes.

Yes, Cartwright.
You remember Cartwright?

The one with the convenient
bulletproof vest.

Steed had lent him his suit,

Now he foolishly left Steed's
apartment wearing it.

He was followed to a restaurant
by Intercrime's execution squad

and then...

Well, well, well,

forgot his bulletproof vest,
eh?

It can happen.

What next?

Another attack on Steed.

Mother:
He was a marked man.

A telephone call lured him
to some earthworks.

Steed found himself trapped

at the bottom
of a pitiless pit

and the villains planned
to fill him in.

Earth cascaded down
on our dauntless hero,

tons, hundreds of tons
of shale

and rubble
fell in on him

until all that remained
in sight

was the last
battered symbol

of a very gallant English
gentleman... his bowler hat.

It seemed that Intercrime
had triumphed.

But had they?
Had they? No.

Our indomitable hero
was not finished yet.

With one bound,
Steed was free.

But Steed had proved
too much for them.

Another phone call,
another lure.

This time,
to a house in the country.

Another attack.

But the attacker
had not reckoned

on Steed's physical expertise,
his will to win.

Time and again,

he eluded the clutching hands
of his adversary.

Steed absolutely threw himself
into the fight.

His ability
was starting to tell.

Georgina:
His ability to do what?

Mother:
To fall so nicely.

His attacker was weakening.

Georgina:
Weakening?

The chair was of
very inferior manufacture.

Steed pulled every trick
out of the book.

Finally, the attacker
made his fatal mistake.

He made Steed very angry.

Another failure.

Steed survived.

- And then?
- We had a lucky break.

Ah, I was waiting
for one of those.

Dunbar, the European head
of Intercrime

took over from
the hot-headed Fuller.

He forbade all murder attempts.

On the contrary,

he had other plans
for Steed.

Well,
the background is right.

- We could use this man Steed.
- But he stole from us, sir.

Execute him after.

And what about the girl,
Steed's accomplice?

We've traced her.

Bring her in.

Mother: So with Tara
now in their clutches,

Intercrime put part two of
their plan into operation...

Steed.

Hello?

Man: We want to talk to you,
Mr. Steed.

Is it about putting holes into
Freddie Cartwright?

Man: Write down this address,
Mr. Steed.

199 Royal Avenue, SW7.

I'll remember it.
Good-bye.

Mother: A vital contact
had been made.

Intercrime were asking
to see Steed.

He hurried to a waiting taxi,

but Intercrime's skullduggery
was still at work.

An armed man planned to escort
Steed to their headquarters.

Steed had other thoughts.

He was alone now and driving
straight into the jaws

of Intercrime
and untold dangers.

The first hurdle
safely crossed.

The second hurdle
to be encountered.

- Good evening, Mr. Steed.
- Good evening.

Will you come with me?

The last hurdle lay ahead.

Steed had penetrated the ugly
heart of Intercrime.

Now he had to meet the man
on whose word

his life might hang
in the balance... Dunbar.

My name is Dunbar.

I am the head of Intercrime
in Europe.

- Please, sit down.
- Thank you.

Mr. Steed...

you should be dead.

(chuckles)
I gathered that.

But you're here because

I am considering
putting you on probation.

We have, of course,
checked up on your record,

and I think we have
a job for which

you may be
particularly qualified.

There is also the matter

of 785,000 pounds
worth of diamonds

which you and your
accomplice stole from us.

We'll give you back
the diamonds.

You can keep the diamonds,
Mr. Steed,

if you make a success
of this job.

- What sort of job?
- The crime of the century.

There it was again,
the crime of the century.

Steed had penetrated Intercrime.

But...

His ploy in pretending to be
a superior thief had worked.

- What about...
- Steed and Dunbar?

- Harriet: Uh...
- What is it then?

- What about Tara?
- Yes. What happened to her?

She was in another part
of the woods,

under the hot lights.

Where are the diamonds?

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

Miss King, it would go easier
if you made a statement.

I don't know anything.

We know you and Steed
took the diamonds.

I don't know anyone
called Steed.

- Oh, she was brave.
- Stoical.

She didn't squeal.

Squeal?
I sincerely hope not.

Not a mouse, you know.

Now where was I?

Both: Intercrime.

Oh, yes, yes.

Steed had got his feet
under the table.

Dunbar was even
offering him drinks.

We give our criminals
legal aid, pension schemes,

paid holidays,

everything a good company man
can hope to find on...

On the other side.

- Who is my company,
you or Orpheus Tours?
- The same.

Orpheus Tours will take you
on a tour anywhere.

That's extremely
good of them.

To commit a crime.

- Where is the one
you want me to commit?
- Here.

(speaks French) Dubois.

I want you to talk your way into
a top security establishment.

- Where?
- You will be taken.

- Colonel Corf is in command.
- Corf?

You went to the same school,
you belong to the same clubs,

the same background and...
More or less.

But I don't know him.

Here's a complete file on him.

Read it and use it
to gain his confidence.

Then without his knowledge,
open his safe

and photograph
the entire contents.

What's in the safe?

Colonel Corf has
a top security telephone.

The scrambler code
is changed every 24 hours.

The current code is kept
in the safe.

I want a picture of it.

Why?

Dubois from our French section
will go with you

to open the safe.

- C'est va, Dubois?
- Oui.

He's the best cracksman
in Europe.

But he's a criminal.
He looks like a criminal.

I couldn't get him into
a security establishment.

I doubt if I can even
get him into a prison.

(both speak French)

Dunbar:
You must open the safe.

I suppose I could
open it myself,

- but I prefer to use Miss King.
- We'll test her.

Oh, dear, test her?

Did they make her sit for
an exam or something?

No, no, dear, dear aunts.

They were putting her up against
the brilliant Dubois...

The man with the beret.

(chuckles,
clears throat)

Tara was sent for,
not knowing, poor child,

what the fates
had in store for her

but determined
to grit her teeth,

keep a stiff upper lip,
keep her back to the wall

and charge fearlessly
forward...

Georgina:
That's anatomically impossible.

Mother:
She was brought

to where Dubois
had opened the safe

in 59.15 seconds flat.

Tara King was given
the unenviable task of beating

the fiendish Frenchman's time.

She had to open the safe
faster than he.

It was an acid test.

Steed could only stand by,
powerless to help her.

But Tara did not
flinch at the task.

She did not turn away from
the job assigned to her.

She did not avert her eyes
from the dangers.

- She did not...
- I imagine she agreed
to do it.

Mother: Exactly.

She was alone,
on her own merit now.

Could she beat or even
equal Dubois' time

of 59.15 seconds?

The tension mounted,
the seconds,

fateful seconds
ticked by.

Nerves were drawn tighter
than a violin string.

And then, at the traditional
last moment...

- Her file.
- Sir.

You go with Steed.

Mother: So Steed and Tara had
achieved their first objective,

to be accepted by Intercrime.

They made their way
to the security vaults.

Now to dupe the razor-sharp
mind of Colonel Corf.

Please, Armsmith, please.

Sorry, sir.
I mean, governor.

- Hmm, yeah?
- John Steed,
your security inspector,

My assistant, Miss King.

Security inspector?
Didn't know we had one.

- Of course not, security.
- Ah.

I haven't seen any
of you chaps for years.

- Ah, changes at Downing Street,
you know?
- Yes, yes, yes.

- Well, what can I do for you?
- I'll be very obliged
if you'd show me around.

Show you...
Oh, no, no, no, no,

I'm afraid I couldn't
possibly do that.

No, I am awfully busy
at the moment, I'm afraid.

Awfully busy.
It's nearly time for lunch.

Tell you what,
you come back some other day.

- Of course! Corf!
- Huh?

- Bumble Corf,
Saint Justin's house.
- Well, yes.

There's a picture of you
in the pavilion.

- The time you took 10 for 17?
- 10 for 16.

Mother: Pretending to be
an old school chum,

recalling
those good old days,

Steed infiltrated
the security establishment.

Security establishment?

Sounds more like a dreary
old warehouse to me.

That is the cover.

Down, more than 500 feet down
is the heart of the matter,

where Corf kept his safe.

That's why Intercrime
sent them there.

Exactly, to photograph
the scrambler code

that was kept in it.

How did they do that?

How did they fool Corf
and his razor-sharp mind?

Tara King feigned a faint.

Then Steed took Corf off,
and she was left there alone.

- Paintings.
- What paintings?

Great Britain's heritage.

One of my favorites that.

You like animals, don't you?

Over there... Gainsboroughs,
Constables, et cetera.

Down that gallery,
you've got your foreigners.

All these are your... your
Flemish school...

- Primitives.
- I like them.

- Hmm, yes, well.
- More paintings?

Sacred objects.

Crown jewels, there.

- That is really beautiful.
- Yes, isn't it?

- Here, take a look at that.
- Oops.

Finest forgeries in the world.

Yes, well...

Steed: Very impressive
collection, Colonel.

Thank you, thank you.
Now then, how do you feel?

- Much better, thank you.
- Good girl.

Good girl.

There you are.

- Hotline.
- Scrambled?

New scrambling code every 24
hours, keep it in the safe.

Nothing wrong with
our security, Steed.

No.
I'm sure, not.

What happens when
you get the call.

- Operation Rule Britannia?
- I haven't the faintest notion.

Never heard it have I.
Thank goodness.

So you don't know what
Operation Rule Britannia means?

- He didn't know?
- No.

I'm not surprised.

Doesn't seem like a young man
who knows anything much.

Hasn't got all his marbles,
if you ask me.

Nobody knew anything about
Operation Rule Britannia.

Nobody, that is,
except for me.

An impasse was reached.

What's an impasse?

- It is...
- When they ran out of plot.

Mother:
And that's when I made

my own indispensable
contribution to the case.

- Did you get my message?
- About Operation
Rule Britannia?

- Yes.
- Well, what is it?

And why is Colonel Corf
guarding a heap of forgeries?

In the event of war,

"Operation Rule Britannia"
is the signal

to clear all art galleries
and palaces of their treasures

and put them in the safety
of Colonel Corf's vault.

Colonel Corf's vaults?

Yes, and hang the forgeries
in their place.

Oh, and that will
prevent alarm and despondency

throughout the countryside?

Exactly, to prevent panic.

Now what would you do
if war was looming

and you saw them tucking
all the Picassos,

Cézannes,
and Matisse underground?

What would I do?

I'd go somewhere else
as soon as possible.

Right, but they are part of
our national heritage.

- Steed: Ah.
- Something to rally round.

They must be seen proudly,
aggressively,

a symbol
of our confidence.

And the real ones are all
safely tucked away.

That is beside the point.

I've got the point,
the crime of the century.

Now what would you think
the chances are

of robbing the National
Gallery, Buckingham Palace,

the Tate Gallery,
all in one afternoon?

Nil.

But make an all-out concerted
effort on one area,

however well-guarded...

Well, I suppose
there is a chance...

yes.

Give the signal
"Operation Britannia,"

put all your art eggs
in one basket,

Colonel Corf's vault,
and then...

I'm going back
to Intercrime.

Gentlemen, the scrambler code
to Colonel Corf's

- priority telephone.
- (chuckles)

Yes.

Dunbar, now I will
have that drink.

Who is fixing the phones?

Ngushu, the best
in the business,

from the territory
of Mr. Osaka, dozo.

Mother: Cleverly
using a Japanese as the man

most likely to be overlooked
in a busy European street,

Intercrime put themselves
in direct contact with Corf.

They now had the link,
the scrambler code

and all
that was needed to put.

Operation Rule Britannia
into effect.

(speaks foreign language)

You are now in contact
with Colonel Corf, Mr. Dunbar.

Arigato, Osaka-san.

Send in Miss King
and Steed.

Ngushu, get me Colonel Corf,
please.

You're doing it now?

The scrambler code
changes every 24 hours.

Dunbar: I want to speak
to Colonel Corf.

Fuller,
a drink for Miss King.

Sir.

Tell him it's
Operation Rule Britannia.

He can hardly be expected
to believe me.

He knows your voice,
you're on his hotline.

He can only believe
that you're speaking

from the Prime
Minister's office.

Colonel?

Operation Rule Britannia?

But I had no idea the situation
was so explosive.

I'm with him now.

There's no alternative.

Right, Steed.

Mother: The diabolical plan
had worked.

The rules succeeded.

Colonel Corf
was completely taken in by...

Georgina:
I'm not surprised.

Mother: I'm perfectly aware
of your opinion of Corf.

He was taken in.

He opened his sealed
instructions

and started the ball

that was Operation
Rule Britannia rolling,

the biggest
tickle in history.

The most gigantic robbery

in the annals
of crime had begun.

The mighty plan swung
into action.

First,
our National Galleries,

haven of our most revered
artists, were emptied,

stripped of their most precious
sculptures and canvasses.

The Tower of London,
depository of the crown jewels

and of
England's history.

Even the palace itself,
the very seat of government,

all were denuded
of their art treasures,

and forgeries were
put in their place,

whilst the real treasures
were dispatched

to the safety
of Colonel Corf's vaults.

But as the gallant colonel
personally supervised

the stowing of
his precious cargo,

little did he know that
the safety of his vaults

was no longer safe,

nor was his personal safe
safe any longer,

if you know what I mean.

"Nude With Violin,"
right at the back please.

Careful, man!

- Mother: Meanwhile,
back at the...
- Harriet: Ranch?

Back at Intercrime
headquarters,

Steed's desperation mounted.

Watched though he was,
he shirked not from his duty.

He attempted to call us,
to warn us, but...

Who were you going
to call, Mr. Steed?

My bookmaker.

Gambling can be terribly
dangerous, Mr. Steed.

We took a gamble with you.

Get the girl.
I'm not gonna lose now.

You won't win without me.

Corf trusts me.
I made sure of that.

You won't get in without me,
and my fee is 100,000 pounds.

All right, Steed,
you get us in

and we'll meet your price.

Good.
And Miss King comes, too.

Oh, no,
Miss King stays here.

Your hostage.

Dubois:
Put her in the cell.

Their villainy knew no bounds.

Steed found himself hopeless
to their ploy.

The countdown had begun.

The final preparations
were made.

Anesthetics,

tranquilizers,

hacksaw, nylon rope.

What's this?

A miniaturized transmitter,

20 pounds in gold sovereigns.

Before going on a mission,

each man would be issued with
one of these survival kits.

Good idea.

Phrase book
in 15 languages.

"I'm on the run
from the police.

Kindly direct me
to a suitable hideout."

(all laughing)

Six drugged
cigarettes.

Cigarette lighter.

Turn the fuel screw round...

(clicks)

the mechanism is now primed.

Flick it,
in three seconds,

there will be
a concentrated explosion

sufficient to blow a gap
in a prison wall

up to 10 feet thick.

Of course, you have to
release the safety catch.

The scene was set.

They were well-equipped.

Yes, they were.

- The time...
- Just one thing.

Yes?

How on Earth did
they carry it all?

The time had come.

Mother: Dunbar and his
nefarious nasties,

his felonious felons,

his cronies in crime,

made their final move.

They set out to accomplish
their evil coup.

Steed could do nothing
but accompany them,

hoping for a lucky break.

Georgina: You've had
your ration of those.

Mother: But the break
did not come.

Steed's mind was troubled
as he and the top brass

of Intercrime
set off en route to...

Harriet:
Now hold it.

Intercrime are going
to commit the crime

of the century, yes?

Right.

And Steed's helping?

Right.

He had no option.
He tried to call us...

Why did he give them Colonel
Corf's scrambler code

- in the first place?
- Good question.

Ah.

Both: Well?

Steed had to go along
with the whole plot.

Suppose the theft
of the scrambler code

was just a test,

a test of Steed's loyalty
to Intercrime?

Good answer.

It is, you know, Harriet.

Oh, well, I suppose so.

But Miss Christie
and Mr. Erle Stanley Gardner

never leave such loopholes.

- May I continue?
- Both: Please do.

Mother: Intercrime made
their move,

en route to pillage
the vaults,

and Steed forced
to accompany them.

However, they had overlooked
one factor,

the courage and resourcefulness
of Miss Tara King.

She launched into the attack
and disposed of her adversary.

But the game was not yet won.

Excuse me.

Could you help me for a moment?

(bangs and clatters)

(indistinct conversations)

Man: Come in, Tokyo.
I'm receiving you.

Come in Tokyo.

Hey!

Ah! You've laddered
my stocking!

My goodness!

- They were an awfully
noisy lot, weren't they?
- Awfully.

As I told you, they were
ruthless, utterly ruthless.

They cared not
who they aroused.

They were unconcerned
that little children,

tender babes might be awakened
by the noise of their shooting.

- Dreadful.
- Despicable.

Beyond the pale.

They certainly
were not gentlemen.

They certainly were not.

Now shall I continue?

Both: Please.

Where was I?

Steed, hoping
to penetrate Intercrime,

set himself up as a thief,

achieved his aim...

And was given the task

of getting Colonel Corf's
scrambler code.

Corf's vaults,
being the repository

for the real art
treasures of Great Britain

in times of emergency.

Fake ones having been put
in their place,

and Intercrime,
holding Tara as a hostage,

forced Steed to accompany them
on the big heist.

Tara, however,
engineered her escape

and was on her way
to foil the plot.

Well, dear aunts,

you have been
paying attention.

Tara was on her way
to foil the plot.

Mother: Tara, brilliant,
gallant, blonde Tara,

the last hope of foiling
the plot,

climbed into Corf's security
area where even now the last

of the forgeries
were being dispatched.

She ran pell-mell
to find Colonel Corf

to warn him what
was afoot.

If she could reach him
in time,

while there were still precious
minutes to spare

before the Intercrime mob
arrived, she could...

Harriet:
Now, just a moment.

You said the Intercrime team
left ahead of Tara.

Mother:
That's right.

Then how did
she get there first?

They took the pretty route.

They wanted to see the sites.

On their way to a crime?

This is my story.

Go on.
Please go on.

I will endeavor to.

Now where was I?

- Tara had arrived
at the warehouse.
- Oh, yes.

She tried to persuade
the skeptical Colonel Corf

that his warehouse
was in danger of a mass raid.

She told him of how
she'd opened his safe before,

and she even opened it
again to prove it.

Now do you believe
I photographed your codes?

Excuse me, please.

Yes, yes, I do.

And, of course, I know what's
going on when Steed rang me.

I was suspicious.

I read the newspapers,
you know, Miss King.

- What does that mean?
- This country is not
in danger of going to war.

That's what
I've been telling you.

- And it was Steed
who gave that false alarm...
- Yes.

As a security check on me
and my little unit.

No.

New broom?
Sweep clean?

Oh, I know all about
Whitehall, Miss King.

This is not
a security exercise.

This is a plan by a criminal
organization called Intercrime.

They're going to break in here
and steal all of this.

- And what should I do,
Miss King?
- Let them in.

Once they're here,
seal the place off

and make an armed arrest.

Yes. It is a little
complicated for my taste,

but then I suppose that's how
security minds work, eh?

This is not a security check.

One thing I can't understand.

Mother: What?

This Colonel Corf,
how did such a fool

come to be in charge of
a top security vault?

Oh, Harriet,
let him go on.

We're almost at the big fight,
aren't we?

Indeed we are.

Now, Tara hid herself
in the vaults whilst Corf...

Did he marry into
an important family?

Is that how he got the job?

Whilst Corf,
thinking the whole thing

to be an elaborate exercise,

awaited the arrival
of the Intercrime team.

He didn't have long to wait.

In the Queen's name, gentlemen,
you're my prisoners

and I must ask you
to lay down your arms.

Be your age, Colonel.

You are our prisoner,
Colonel.

But you can't say that.
I said it first.

- Where's the umpire?
- These men are criminals.

They're trying to steal
the most valuable piece...

- But that's what
Miss King said, I...
- Miss King?

Find that woman!

Mother: So whilst armed men
were dispatched

to dispatch Miss King
to hunt her down

like a...
Like a hairy beast,

Dunbar and Co. Indulged in
a different kind of hunting,

ferreting out
our art treasures,

splitting them up
amongst themselves...

A nude here,
a violin there

gloating over
the Gainsboroughs

drooling over
the Da Vincis,

sharing the profits
of their ill-starred scheme.

They were worse
than Philistines.

They were villain-stines.

Art to them was just loot,
cabbage, spondulicks,

cold hard cash.

They showed no respect
for anything,

anything at all.

Yes.

Now I'm afraid we'll have to
break this one up, gentlemen.

It's rather a pity,
isn't it?

It's Britain's crown jewels.

Well, go on, go on.

- Why have you stopped?
- You can't stop now.

I haven't stopped.

- But you've...
- Merely pausing.

- I have run out.
- Of ideas?

Of breath.
My throat is dry.

I think I'll take
a glass of...

Both: Five fingers
of Old Red Eye.

That's better.
Now I will continue.

It's a double-cross,
isn't it, Dunbar?

Right,
check the office.

(speaks foreign language)

We'll take the corridors.

Well done.

Corf:
Look out!

Hold it.

- Oh.
- Yes.

(machine-gun fire)

By Jove.

- Your gun, Colonel.
- Thank you.

Thank you.

Oh, dear.
That's the only one I liked.

- Game, set...
- And match.

It all ended
happily ever after.

Naturally.

But they always end
like that.

Couldn't we have
a downbeat ending for once?

Well, as a matter of fact,

there was a slight tragedy.

- Really?
- Oh, tell us.

Steed sprained his thumb.

And Tara, poor girl...

Both:
A fate worse than death?

Worse.

Both:
Worse?

The shock turned her...

brunette.

Your card, Steed.

It's astonishing.

What?

Rhonda.

She is rather tall,
isn't she?

No, no, I don't mean that.

I mean,
after all this time,

I haven't heard a squeak
out of her.

I sincerely hope not.

Rhonda squeaking?

That would mean
skullduggery afoot.

Oh, no, I mean,
I never heard her say a word.

What word?

Well, any word.

She's not the chatty type.
I like her that way.

Yes, but you would
have thought,

say,
once a month or so

that she'd say a word?

Bothers you?

Unaccountably, yes.

Oh.

Rhonda.

Say hello to Mr. Steed.

Hello, Mr. Steed.

That's her?

No, it was me.

Rhonda's lost her voice.

I was practicing
my ventriloquial art.

A, B, C, D, E, F, G,

H, I, J, K,
Gottle of Geer...

- B, D...
- (laughs)