All language subtitles for Spooks.S04E05.The.Book.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DD+2.0.H.264-playWEB_track3_[eng]

Clive, are you sure?

Can I say anything to change your mind?

I could use your help in fighting them.

Two men against
a new world order?

Please.

Bringing down communism was child's play

compared to fighting this velvet fascism.

No, I know when to fold.

My cottage shall do me just fine.

You've been doing this
longer than any of us.

I can't imagine you giving
it all up just like that.

What are you going to do with yourself?

Don't worry about me, Harry.

I'll find better ways
to keep myself amused.

You didn't need to do this.

You didn't need to involve them.

They're my sister's
children, for God's sake.

We need to make sure
we have your full cooperation.

What do you want me to do?

Say goodbye.

It won't even
make it to the front page.

10 grand, 10 grand?

She's funny.

She shagged a footballer, for God's sake.

She didn't find the cure for cancer.

Two grand.

Non-negotiable.

End of story.

How do you want to do this?

As painlessly as possible.

But before we do that, I
need something from you.

Shall we?

Hello.

Hello?

Clive?

Stop, stop!

Stop!

Let's get out of here.

Somewhere among these
bright young things

is your new field officer, Mr. Carter,

and your four additional
desk officers, Miss Evershed.

Courtesy of the Home Secretary's
timely recruitment drive.

Shortlists by tomorrow morning, please.

We're getting first dibs
ahead of the other sections.

Six languages, a Double
First from Bristol,

and hobbies include kite-surfing.

These are the pick of the crop.

They had the best scores in the interviews

and in the psychometric tests,

which our esteemed HR specialist.

Debra Langham.

Will be with us on hand
tomorrow to explain more clearly.

At nine a.m., actually.

Which will give you time
to sift through the dross,

to choose which are the
most stellar candidates

to join our illustrious brotherhood.

Mm.

- What?
- No, I was just thinking,

clique or circle might be more
inclusive, don't you think?

No, I like brotherhood.

Anyone else have a problem with my way

of expressing myself today?

Harry, you need to see this.

Well, details are still sketchy,

but what we do know is
that Clive McTaggart,

a former high-ranking member
of the intelligence services,

was found dead at his home this morning

from an apparent suicide.

Mr. McTaggart's sister has confirmed

that he had been fighting
cancer for the past year,

and that the pain had become
increasingly difficult to bear.

Are you OK?

Yes.

How well did you know him?

As well as anyone, I suppose,

which isn't saying very much.

We worked together several
times over the years.

Although he wasn't exactly

the most gregarious man I ever met.

If you feel like you
want to talk to someone,

I don't have any plans later.

Thank you, Ruth, but I've
got to return a few calls.

Nothing like a sudden death

to bring old friends out of the woodwork.

The Falklands, it's
got to be the Falklands.

No, Moscow.

He knew what Brezhnev's flunkies
were up to before they did.

No, no you're both wrong.

His finest hour was in
recruiting yours truly.

I knew he had to have
a black mark somewhere.

To have achieved all that
and end up like he did.

That's our lot in life, isn't it?

To toil away in the darkness

and keep our ever-shrinking
realm out of harm's way,

before withering away in
some god-forsaken cottage.

I'm talking about his state
of mind, his disappointment.

We let him down.

Times change, Harry.

He fought a different kind of
enemy, one that had a face.

You ever feel the
face you're looking for

is staring back at you from the mirror?

Hardly, unless I've come back
from some war-torn hellhole

with the mother of all tans.

Were you surprised?

When you heard he'd killed himself?

I mean I know bowel cancer
can be extremely painful.

Well, I think once the
cancer had spread to his liver,

he knew it was a matter
of months, weeks even.

You knew about that, right?

Of course.

Shh, shh.

Gary?

Gary!

What was that all about?

What are you doing?

I'm so sorry, Ruthie.

I didn't know who else to turn to.

I'm in trouble.

Why am I not surprised?

If this isn't hugely important,

I hope your passport's up to date.

Harry, it's me.

Ruth.

- Ruth?
- Yes.

- What time is it?
- Late.

I'm sorry to be calling
you at this hour, but.

Are you all right?

Me?

Yes, I'm fine, thanks.

Well, that's, uh,

that's good.

Harry, I was just wondering.

I was just wondering if
perhaps you could come over?

Come over?

Now?

There's someone I need you to meet.

Oh.

You're sure they were British?

Put it this way, they weren't Al-Qaeda.

I still don't understand

what you were doing
there in the first place.

I mean, forgive my skepticism,

but of all the reporters out there,

why would Clive McTaggart call a reporter

from a tabloid newspaper that has a,

shall we say, less than
exemplary reputation?

What, me or the tabloid?

He knew I wouldn't back off the story.

And exactly
how did he know that?

About 10 years ago,
I got wind of a story

that he was involved in.

The government didn't want it publicized.

That was when we first met.

It took a lot of convincing and,

er, cajoling to get me to kill it.

But you did kill the story?

Well, I liked the guy.

Besides, it wasn't that great a story.

And this way, he owed me one.

Tell me what he told you, exactly.

Right, so something happened.

Call signs and ID?

Zulu Papa Uniform Three Seven One.

Connecting you.

- Is it done?
- No, sir.

He's not alone.

He's with a spook.

You need to hear this.

He said he
was getting more despondent

about the way our political
system's degenerated, you know.

The lies, spin, Iraq, the
whole politics of fear thing.

Dirty bombs and all the other fantasies

this government keeps coming up with

to justify their existence
and make themselves

look like self-righteous heroes.

He called it--
- Velvet fascism.

I know.

Although I doubt the people of Manhattan

would necessarily agree.

It's Harry Pearce.

Oh, please.

9/11 was the best thing that
ever happened to you people.

The line between fear and
complacency is a thin one.

But fear's much better

when it comes to getting votes, isn't it?

Anyway, he decided to
let the cat out the bag.

He told me he'd spent the
last year writing a book.

He said he thought the country could use

an injection of hard truths.

He told me he wasn't going
to leave anything out.

Regardless of the Official Secrets Act.

Did he give it to you?

That's what
I went out there for.

I don't know, but I'm sure
that little bestseller's

long gone by now.

It's been backed up.

Maybe he emailed it to his lawyer, or to.

Forget it.

McTaggart was from another age.

He didn't even own a computer.

He was strictly a pen and paper man.

Oh, Christ.

Now, there was something on
the table right next to him.

Like a big notebook,

black, leather bound.

You can't stay here.

Why not?

I'm safe, nobody knows I'm here.

It's out of the question.

Tell me you're not carrying a phone.

- Yes, why?
- Give it to me.

They could have tracked you to this house.

How did you get here?

We're losing our window of opportunity.

I bussed it to the city,

then I got a tube here.

The tube here?

My car is still at his house.

Hmm, so they already know who you are.

Ruth, you can't stay here either.

What do you want us to do, sir?

What do you mean

they already know?
- Sir?

Am I in danger?

You're gonna, you're gonna protect me?

Sir?

Stand down.

Stand down and get out of there.

Understood.

OK, we need to know

who else knew about
this book besides Hicks.

Clive wasn't an idiot.

This isn't something he would have shared

with anyone until he was ready.

Hicks might have.

Do you think he might have let others in

on his little secret?

No, I doubt it.

If anyone knows the value
of a great scoop, it's Gary.

Except Clive told him

he wasn't going to leave anything out.

One line about a sexed-up
intelligence report

nearly brought the government down.

We're not talking about one line here.

This is a whole book's worth,

straight from the horse's mouth.

This is not about some lone spook

wanting to stay out of the limelight.

This could be a disaster
for all of us, especially now.

I want the bastards who did this,

even if they work in this very building.

Now use extreme caution
and watch your backs.

These people have access
to the same toys we do.

Erm no.

Well, his face was
different, different size.

No, his mouth was sort of different.

Different how?

I only saw the guy for a few seconds,

I didn't date him, for God's sake.

Sorry.

McTaggart's phone line is
clean, as far as I can tell.

If they had a bug on it, it's been pulled.

What about his mobile?

That one's trickier.

I can't tell you if it's had

anything planted in it without seeing it.

And we do not have access to it.

There are other ways someone
could have been listening in

without tampering with
the actual handset itself.

GCHQ.

Let me see what I can dig up.

We've got a couple
of faces to work with.

Ruth's figuring out a way of running them

through our intel database

without raising too many flags.

I ran a trace on Hicks's mobile.

All the numbers trying
to contact him today

are on his SIM card's
memory, except for this one.

They've tried four times this morning.

- You got a name?
- Joanna Portman.

It's registered to an
address in Camden Town.

She isn't with any of our agencies.

And Hicks says he's never heard of her.

We took a little uninvited
tour inside her home computer.

Whoever lives there has been
busy Googling our Mr Hicks.

Look into it.

Where are you going?

I've got some cages to rattle.

Harry.

Are you sure that's a good idea?

What if they tried talking him out of it?

What if there was no other way?

There's always another way.

What if there wasn't?

Clive McTaggart had more integrity

than any man I've ever known.

I can't let his murder go unanswered.

I owe him that.

Clive's death really got to you?

I just hope I don't end up
spending my twilight years

in bitter disappointment.

I didn't realize you
were that close to him.

We were the occasional drink,

a meal now and then at his club.

Not that dreary place.

He liked it.

He said it was the one place

he could trust not to bend with the wind.

When he left, he told me he'd
finally have time to read.

And to write.

He certainly had enough material

to come up with a cracking novel.

I think an autobiography
was more what he had in mind.

That would have been a waste of time.

He'd have to leave out all the juicy bits.

Not necessarily.

If he really wanted things to come out.

We both know it's virtually impossible

to suppress anything in this day and age.

And Clive had nothing to lose.

Well, I suppose if he was gonna write

a kill and tell book, he's
done us all a huge favor

by dying before finishing it.

Roger Thornhill, Cary Grant?

North by Northwest.

His best role I'd say.

Now use these from now on.

In case your old ones are compromised.

Are you ready?

Let's go.

This is Debra Langham,
our recruitment consultant.

Adam Carter.

Fiona.

I trust you've drawn up
a shortlist of candidates.

I'm afraid we're going
to have to reschedule.

Unless you can deal with it?

Great, thanks.

It's the one with the blue door.

According to the woman next door,

there are two girls sharing it.

Recent grads.

My kind of stakeout.

What?

I love a man in uniform.

I'm here to read the gas meter.

No, no it's no trouble
at all, I'm happy to do it.

OK.

Thank you.

Bye.

What?

Gas meter.

Should only take a minute.

OK, come in.

Big night?

Flatmate just landed
a big job in the city.

Lucky her.

Is that what you do as well?

Me? God, no.

I mean, yeah, it pays really well,

but there are funkier
ways to earn a living.

Yeah, tell me about it.

I didn't mean it like that.

At least you're not cooped up
in an office all day, right?

And you get to see how
messy people's houses are.

It's a charmed life.

Oh.

What do you do for a living then?

I'm a journalist.

Well, an aspiring
journalist, I'm job-hunting.

Good luck.

Thanks, I'm going to need it

if they're gonna return my calls.

Everyone's too busy, right?

Yeah, I guess so.

Well, at least this time they didn't say

we'll keep your details on file.

This is pretty serious stuff.

Yeah?

I can do gossipy too, whatever it takes.

No, don't sell yourself short.

You think?

Yeah, there's plenty of other people

who'll do that for you.

I should get going.

Erm, this is going to
sound really stupid but, erm,

well, I get the feeling that
there's a lot more to you than.

Just reading the gas meter?

Yeah.

Sorry, I'm very nosy.

I'd better go.

Meter's running.

Yeah, something like that.

A waste of time.

It's just a kid looking
for a job as a journalist.

Let's go and check out McTaggart's.

Brought you some fresh coffee.

Thanks.

So, what's the news?

Have they figured out who they are yet?

Erm, we're working on it.

Well, that's it?

That's it.

Sorry.

What are you doing?

I'm just keeping busy out here.

Idle hands and all that.

Can I have a look?

Oh, it's just the usual rubbish.

You're writing about what happened?

Are you insane?

Well, what else am I gonna do?

You can't expect me to
sit on a story like this.

Come on, Ruthie.

This is the story of a lifetime.

A very short lifetime
if you carry on like this.

I'm safe here, aren't I?

Of course you are, but I
don't think writing about it

is part of the deal.
- Well, why not?

That is what I do.

I can't use my phone.

I'm not even allowed to call the office.

I have to be escorted out
to the roof to have a smoke.

I am going nuts here!

But, if I write it,

once it's out there, they
can't hurt me any more.

Once it's out there?

Just what story are you
talking about exactly?

You have no proof.

You've got no other witnesses.

Think about it.

It's nothing more than hearsay.

But, you know, once you
get to the bottom of it,

we'll have our proof, won't we?

I'll get someone to drive
you back to the safe house.

You'll be more comfortable there.

Gas Stream, could I help you?

Yeah, hello.

Someone was just here to read the meter,

and it's now making this
really weird ticking noise.

I was hoping you could have
him come back and take a look.

His name's Roger Thornhill.

I could have an engineer
come by tomorrow morning

between eight and one.

Wouldn't it be easier
to have him come back now?

He was just here.

He's probably just a couple
houses down the road.

I'm sorry, I can't interfere
with Mr Thornhill's rounds.

Will tomorrow be convenient?

Um,

you know what?

Forget it.

It's fine, it's fine.

Malcolm.

I just took a
call from Jo Portman.

It seems that Adam made
quite an impression.

I'll let him know.

What?

It seems you have a secret admirer.

Doesn't look like there are
any mics, no hidden cameras.

If they're keeping tabs on him,

they didn't leave any calling cards.

I wouldn't be too sure about that.

They had a fiber optic in there.

That's not something
they picked up at Argos.

Yeah, well can I double check the number

I have for him then?

Every time I try ring it,

I get this weird tone like
his line's been disconnected.

I see, well um,

how about if I come over and
drop my articles off for him?

Oh, this is crazy.

Look, take me to the newsroom.

If I don't write this story,

somebody else is going
to write it before me.

And that is not going to happen.

So, just call it a day,
take me to the office.

I can't do that.

I have my orders.

I'm not interested
in your bloody orders.

Just take me to the office.

Mr Hicks!

Hicks has done a runner.

What do you think you're doing?

I can't sit on this any more.

I need to write it.

It's the only way to get them off my case.

Is that what you think?

Once it's out there,

there's no point in them
trying to shut me up, is there?

Of course there is.

It'll take them about 10 seconds

to wipe out your credibility,

then they'll have you sucking
on the inside of a plastic bag

just like McTaggart,

because you couldn't
deal with the heartache.

Come on.

Yeah, we've got him.

It's under control.

All right, see you at the safe house.

Thank you.

This is going to sound stupid,

but I need you to follow
that car, the blue Peugeot.

Look, my husband's in that car,

and I think he's cheating on me.

I have to know the truth, please.

I'll pay you extra.

Thanks.

Malcolm, any news?

We've recovered some CCTV footage

from the entrance gate of a house

on the road near McTaggart's.

The camera angle covers the
main road and we got lucky.

We've got Hicks's car heading there,

and 42 minutes later,

his car on the way back.

Can you make out who's driving it?

Not really, we're
working on enhancing it.

There was another car
following it closely.

Blue Mercedes?

Precisely.

Like the one Hicks saw
parked in McTaggart's drive.

Can you make out the plates?

Yep, but they're fakes.

They've been cloned off
some poor sod's Vauxhall

down in Devon.

OK, let me know if the
enhancements work out, yeah.

I take it we're not talking
about boob jobs, are we?

Hey, what a.

Surprise?

Coincidence, maybe?

Actually, I was going
to say small world.

So, read any good meters lately?

Don't be coy with me.

I want to know why you were
sniffing around my house

posed as a meter reader,

and I wanna know why
you whisked Gary Hicks

away from his office.

You've been following me?

I don't know what's going on,

but whatever it is, I'm
guessing it has something to do

with some dirt that Hicks
has dug up on someone,

along with a story.

Who are you, really?

All right

I work for a private security firm.

And Hicks,

well, you know Hicks,

he has a talent for digging up the muck.

So you're like a bodyguard?

Yeah.

Hicks is working on a story at the moment.

He's annoyed a few people.

So we're just babysitting
him until the threat passes.

Cool.

I still want the story.

You're too late.

Hicks has already written it.

It's in the papers tomorrow.

Sorry.

You still did a great job
sussing it out, though.

I'll let him know.

I imagine he'll pick up
his phone after that.

Look after yourself.

I'm off.

I take it your friend is behaving?

Zaf's babysitting him.

I think he's got things under control.

Harry,

do you really think we
should be doing this?

What?

These people are obviously willing to do

whatever it takes to suppress it.

Someone's got to draw
the line somewhere.

I understand that and

I know Clive was your friend

and you can't let his
murder go unanswered, but.

It isn't just about Clive's
murder, or about the book.

Hicks chose me.

He showed up at my doorstep,

and there's nothing we can do about that.

You can't really think that they're going.

You call me when you
get to the safe house.

Right.

Do you know who's taking over from you?

Adam's coming back later.

It's all for a worthy
cause, though, right?

I'm making some tea.

Er no, thanks, darling.

Hi, Katie, it's me.

Listen, I got a story.

I can't tell you what it's about,

but I promise you it's huge.

Just don't run the presses yet, OK?

Get me someone I can dictate
it to over the phone.

Call you back as soon as I can.

Call sign?

Zulu Papa Uniform Three Seven One.

Connecting.

Have you found Hicks?

Yes, sir.

Well, then, take him out.

There are enough people out there

who'd love to see him dead.

What about the officers?

Do your best to avoid collateral damage,

but make sure you get him.

Get him down, now!

I thought you were going home.

It's Friday night.

It's not that I want to
encourage this sort of behavior,

but you probably saved their lives.

I guess Hicks has to give me a job now.

Come on, let's get you home.

Wait.

There's more?

There's more.

I put my phone in their car.

Hicks is still alive.

We had to abort.

I'm getting rid of the car now.

Using the signals

from Miss Portman's phone,

we were able to plot the
killer's route to Bermondsey

where we found the car, burnt to a crisp,

erasing any forensic clues
as to their identity.

But it wasn't a total loss.

We looked for any other mobiles

following the same trajectory

and crossing the cells at the same time.

We looked for a match with signals

coming from the area
around McTaggart's house

at the time of the faked suicide.

We found one match.

These are the numbers
called from that mobile.

Whoever these guys were,
they weren't big talkers.

Now the last one is the
number called from the car

after the attempted
break-in at the safe house.

A number I believe we are
all too familiar with.

Call sign.

As you all know, without
the recipient's call sign,

there's no way of determining

who they were actually calling.

You have two messages.

Message one.

Zula Papa
Uniform Three Seven One.

Just hang on.

Hicks is still alive.

I must have hit speed dial by mistake

when I was putting my phone in their car.

And when I got home,

I had a 20-minute travel
log waiting for me.

Have you always been like this?

So do I have to keep
calling you Roger Thornhill?

Or are you going to
tell me your real name?

It's Nick, Nick Harding.

You don't really work for
a security company, do you?

Not exactly, no.

This is where you say goodbye

and I never get to see you again?

I'm afraid so.

You were great.

Just try not to share what happened

with too many people, will you?

My lips are sealed.

Here's the transcript

from Joanna Portman's answer machine.

We've got the call sign.

Call sign.

Zulu Papa Uniform Three Seven One.

Connecting you.

Yes?

It's Woodring.

Zula Papa
Uniform Three Seven One.

Just hang on.

Hicks is still alive.

We had to abort.

We took a hit.

I know, we're getting rid of the car now.

You people at 5 really
have this obsession

with showing off how good you are

at sneaking into other people's homes.

Did you try to get
him to change his mind?

Do you know anyone who ever managed

to talk Clive McTaggart out of anything?

Did you try?

Come on, Harry.

He had no incentive to be reasonable.

He was dying.

The cancer had spread to his liver.

You didn't even try, did you?

So where does it stop?

Clive, Hicks, my people?

My team?

Good God, Roy.

What did Clive have on you

that made you completely lose your mind?

Well, I'm flattered, Harry.

Really.

You think this is just about me?

You think this is about saving my own ass?

That's always been your
problem, Harry, hasn't it?

You've never been a team player.

That's why you could
never be part of the club.

I don't want to be part of any team

that sanctions killing off its own.

Our job, Harry, yours and mine,

is to neutralize anything or anyone

that can undermine our country's security.

Clive McTaggart was a
clear and present danger.

He may have been living in virtual exile,

but he still knew the
most intimate details

of everything that was going on.

His revelations would
have been devastating.

They would have weakened us at a time

when we need to be strong.

He had to be stopped.

You can still make things right.

All it takes is one phone call.

You want me to give you Hicks?

He's got to go, Harry.

I can do it with you or without you.

I want Hicks, Harry.

Make it happen.

You're not part of the club.

He actually said that?

This complicates things a little.

We don't know who they
are, or how many they are.

Harry, this is getting out of hand.

You need to tell the JIC.

Thereby opening a can of worms

which would lead straight
to the front pages.

We don't need that.

Besides, one of them
could be on the committee.

What about Juliet?

Her cage was rattled.

It did the trick.

If only we had the book.

That one, I think.

Well, think carefully.

Your life may depend upon it.

That one.

What about the handwriting?

His suicide note.

Is it enough?

Plenty.

Do it.

I'd have preferred to have
given Malcolm more time.

We don't even know what
the original looks like.

And risk another close
call like the other night?

You're putting your life on the line

based on nothing more than a guess.

I'm going to be late.

I want you to call off the dogs.

What are you talking about?

This.

Where did you find this?

I spoke to Roy Woodring.

You were in on it.

You had Clive killed, because of this.

- Are you wired?
- No.

It's just you and me.

Roy found out about the book.

He came to see me about it.

We had to do something.

He said he'd take care of it.

I didn't know he'd go that far.

But you and your little cabal

were happy to see him get away with it.

We've all got a job to do, Harry.

Sometimes it's not a
particularly pleasant one,

but it has to be done.

Clive was brilliant at what he did,

but his job, his duty, to you,
to me, to the whole country,

was to take his secrets

and any misgivings he had to the grave.

Instead, he chose to stab us in the back.

We're better than that.

You know what's going on out there.

We're living in dangerous times.

We are better than that.

We should be.

What are you going to do with that?

I'll hang on to it.

You will take care of Roy.

You'll find some dark rock
for him to crawl under.

And you'll make sure his path
never crosses mine again.

Oh, come on, Harry.

This is non-negotiable, Juliet.

- Fine.
- You'll make sure

nothing like this ever
happens again on your watch.

And you'll leave Hicks alone.

Since when did you care
about a maggot like that?

You'll call off the dogs.

This ends here, now.

All of it.

Unless you want to see
this hit the presses.

- You wouldn't do that.
- Try me.

You can't write this.

I can't not write it.

You can't write it now.

If you do, I won't be in a
position to help you again.

And mark my words, you will need help.

I thought McTaggart was your friend.

We're talking about
losing a battle, not a war.

This isn't over.

And, when the time comes,

it just might be handy to have you around.

All right, that takes
care of the desk officers.

What about the field officer's prospects?

Seven languages, Zaf.

You can't argue with that.

Plus, we'd have one less
harassment suit to deal with.

They all have plusses and minuses,

but we have to make some decisions.

What about you, Adam?

Adam?

As long as the vetting

doesn't flag anything too outrageous,

the job's yours if you want it.

You're kidding.

No.

Seriously?

Seriously.

It's not like a lifetime
commitment or anything?

No, you do it for as
long as you want to.

But you've gotta want to.

This is insane.

Can you think of a funkier
way to make a living?

If you're reading this note

I am probably already long gone,

not, I suspect, as a result
of this dreadful illness.

I'm afraid I'm going to have to burden you

one last time with this.

I only ask that you do
with it as you see fit.

Yours, Clive.