All language subtitles for Smileys_People-E01[1]

( people conversing in Russian
in background )

( bell ringing )

MAN:
Kuda vy edete?

Konechno, Bahama.

Bonjour.

Comment ça va, bien?

Comme d'habitude.

( sighs )

Your name

is Maria Andreyevna
Ostrakova.

You were born
in Leningrad

on May 8, 1927.

Ostrakova, I bring
you greetings

from your daughter,
Alexandra, in Moscow.

Also from certain
official quarters.

C'est trop chaud
pour faire l'amour!

I wish to speak to you
concerning your daughter.

Do not board
this car.

Alexandra has
serious problems

that require
the assistance

of a mother.

DRIVER:
Et merde.

( people conversing in French
in background )

In 1948, age 21,

you married the traitor
Ostrakov Igor.

In 1950 they said Ostrakov
traitorously defected to France

with the assistance
of reactionary émigrés,

leaving you behind in Moscow.

Despite the improbability your
request would be granted,

you applied for
a foreign travel passport

to join your husband
in France, correct?

He had cancer.

If I had not made
the application,

I would have been failing
in my duty as a wife.

Monsieur, I would
prefer the citron.

Meanwhile...

Meanwhile...

Despite your
pretended concern

for your husband,
the traitor Ostrakov,

you nevertheless formed
an adulterous relationship

with Glikman Joseph,

a Jew with
four convictions

for antisocial
behavior.

In consequence
of this adulterous union,

you bore a daughter,

Alexandra.

Correct or false?

Where is she?

Where is Glikman?

What have you
done with them?

In January 1956
as an act clemency,

you were granted a passport

on condition
that the child Alexandra

remained behind
in Moscow.

You exceeded
the permitted time,

remained in France,
abandoning your child.

You have received
no communication from her.

I was advised only that she
had entered a state orphanage

and had acquired another name.

Unless the ways
of the authorities

have changed considerably,
for all she knows, I am dead.

But you're not.

It is your lover--

the Jew, Glikman--
who is dead.

Concerning your criminal
daughter, Alexandra...

Criminal?

On November 20, 1966,

for escaping from
the state orphanage,

six months
corrective detention

extended
to one year

at corrective detention
by reason

of bad behavior,
it has been decided.

What is
your decision?

I didn't hear.

I'm sorry.

Kindly,
will you repeat

what you
just said?

Assuming it has been decided

to rid the Soviet Union of the
disruptive and unsocial element,

how would you like
your daughter, Alexandra,

to join you here in France?

Alexandra?

Here?

To me?

Do you wish formally
to apply for her?

Oh, yes.

Yes.

Tomorrow morning you will go
to the Soviet embassy

and you will ask
for Attaché Kuznetsov.

Attaché Kuznetsov is authorized

to make certain reunions
of a compassionate nature.

You will not mention
this meeting.

You will give no indication
of special treatment.

Attaché Kuznetsov will require
you to fill in certain forms.

He will also supply you

with a photograph
of your daughter, Alexandra.

You will take these forms
with you

to the French Ministry
of the Interior,

where you will pledge yourself
to certain undertakings.

Comrade Ostrakova.

Madame.

Oh, Madame-- please
come this way.

Could you put here,
please,

your date
and place of birth,

here the names
of both your parents

and here the date
of your marriage

to your late husband?

And these are photographs
of your daughter.

This is my daughter?

Mm-hmm.

There have been times

when I have been less
than polite to you.

I apologize.

There have been times also
when I doubted your existence.

But don't let me doubt
the existence of my daughter.

( car horn honking
in background )

( men conversing in Russian
in background )

There was a general whom
my husband used to know, Sergei.

Formerly of the Red Army.

He came to Paris and started
an émigré organization here.

Vladimir.

What happened
to him?

He tried to start
a third world war.

The French didn't like it.

They banned
his outfit.

He went
to London.

My husband said he was strong--
a man to trust.

Not with your wife, he wasn't.

Find him
for me.

I want his address
urgently.

Ask for yourself,
not for me.

Sure.

( door opens )

Good morning, Mikhel.

Good morning,
my general.

WOMAN:
Bobchik.

There you are.

There you are.

Madam, I wish to call Hamburg

and afterwards to be advised
of the costs of this call.

Sit, Bobchik.

( inaudible )

( women conversing in Russian
in background )

Letters delivered by hand
to your place of work.

And at your age.

C'est charmant.

( doorbell ringing )

You received
my letter safely, madame?

You are very small
for a general.

I am not
the General, madame.

I am his lieutenant.

Yes, that is him.

Who is he?

What does he want
with my daughter?

How do you know
him so well?

You know what we used
to say in the camps?

Questions are never dangerous,
only the answers.

OSTRAKOVA:
That was not her photograph.

That was never Glikman's child.

I saw Glikman's child--
I bore her.

She looked like
three Jews at once.

He said to me,

"Be discreet.

Any indiscretion,
your daughter will
not be released."

I've not been discreet.

I've written
to the General!

I am talking to you!

I am not used to conspiracy--
I hate it!

Listen...

Can't you tell me your name?

I want my child.

That swine reminded me
that I am a mother.

There's a part
of this old sinner

that longs to believe his lies.

Tell me what to do.

I told you too much already.

All that matters is that
you have identified him.

Listen, if there is a crisis,

you are to write the General
at this address in London.

Call him Miller, Mr. Miller.

On no account use the telephone.

You understand?

Never.

Don't deceive yourself:

The danger is not over;
it's just begun.

Don't open your door
to strangers.

Be alert.

Have courage.

Who else is
in danger?

All of us--

all who have knowledge
of this affair.

And my daughter?

No, Alexandra has
no part in this.

She knows nothing.

OSTRAKOVA:
I shall think of you
as the magician

and pray that
your tricks succeed.

Madame Ostrakova!

A gentleman was
inquiring for you.

There were two,
very similar, official.

They are still there.

( church bell
ringing in distance )

( boat horn blows )

( horn blows )

( couple laughing,
conversing in German )

( phone ringing in distance )

Hello?

This is Gregory calling for Max.

Please, I have something
very important for him

Where are you calling from?

GREGORY:
It doesn't matter.

I have plenty of change.

I must speak to Max, urgently.

Please hold on.

Um, Max can't speak to you
at the moment--

I'm sorry.

If you could call back...

at, uh, 2:30,
yes, possibly then.

GREGORY:
Tell Max!

Yes, 2:30.

( phone ringing in distance )

GREGORY:
Get me Max immediately!

Look, Max isn't here.

I'm sorry...

GREGORY:
There must be a meeting.

Tonight! A meeting or nothing.

I insist on Moscow Rules.

Tell Max I've been in touch
with certain friends,

yes, and through friends
with neighbors!

Tell this to Max.

MAN:
A meeting...

yes, yeah, a... a meeting
can be arranged, yes.

Could you call back
in an hour, please?

STRICKLAND:
Hello?

Mr. Strickland, sir?

Mm-hmm.

This is Mostyn
of Oddbins here, sir.

I hear you.

I have a requisition for the
safe flat in Hampstead tonight.

Who's the lady?

Could he not
come here?

No, sir, I'm afraid
he's insisting on Moscow Rules.

( radio announcer
speaking Russian )

( loud classical music
begins playing over radio )

( stick snaps )

( gravel crunching )

( bird chirping )

MAN:
George?

It's Oliver Lacon.

George, are you awake?

It's an emergency, George.

( claps once )

Shh!

You remember the old general,
used to live in Paris?

( speaking softly )

We need someone from his past,

someone who knew his little
ways-- could speak for him.

We need you, George.

( police radio transmissions )

DETECTIVE:
Knew him personally
at all, sir?

Or shouldn't
I inquire?

He was somebody I worked with.

So I was given
to understand.

Well, most likely they
started to search him

and then they were
probably disturbed.

If I might take a look
at his face, Superintendent.

Are you sure about that, sir?

Yes.

Yes, I am sure.

Hall!

Sergeant Pike, come down here.

Turn him over.

( officer grunts )

SUPERINTENDENT:
You'll have to try

harder than that, lad.

OFFICER:
Come on, lad,

put some
muscle into it.

OFFICER:
Oh, Christ!

Oh, bloody hell!

OFFICER:
Get it away.

Take it away fast, now!

( retching )

OFFICER:
Sorry about that, sir.

He's young.

SUPERINTENDENT:
Most people expect
to be shot in the chest.

Your neat round bullet
that drills a tasteful hole.

It's the television
that does it, I suppose.

Whereas your modern bullet
can tear off an arm or a leg.

You don't happen to know
what did this, do you?

I haven't seen a wound
like that in a long time.

I'm afraid ballistics
is not my province.

No, of course,
it wouldn't be, would it?

You, uh, seen enough, sir?

Did he have
a mustache?

My sergeant fancied

a trace of white whisker
on the upper jaw.

A military mustache.

Well, most likely
you'd like to know

how the old gentleman
got down here.

As far as we can tell.

Thank you, Superintendent, yes.

SUPERINTENDENT:
Sergeant Pike.

PIKE:
Sir!

Cover him up.

And tell young
Constable Hall

I may not be able
to stop him sicking up,

but I will not tolerate
irreverent language.

Will do, sir.

SUPERINTENDENT:
Right, I shall now give you
the authorized version.

Are you ready, Mr. Smiley?

Here he comes,
down the hill.

Easy pace, nice and easy
toe-and-heel movement.

Everything above board,
see, Mr. Smiley?

The stick marks
in his left hand,

whereas it was
in his right hand
when he was shot.

You saw that,
too, I noticed.

Have you any idea, um,
which leg was the bad one?

The left.

So he probably
would have carried

his stick
in his left.

And how old did you
say he was, sir?

I didn't,
but he owned to 70.

Plus a recent
heart attack, I gather.

Then suddenly, he stops.

Now, my guess is that he heard
something behind him.

I mean, notice
how the pace shortens,

notice the distance
between his feet

as he makes
a sort of half turn,

probably looking
over his shoulder.

Then he decides
to make a dash for it.

An entirely new print.

He's going for
all he's worth.

Unfortunately,
whatever killed him

was in front of him,
wasn't it?

Not behind at all.

Now, how do you
explain this?

Stops again--

not a total stop,
just a sort of stutter.

Then off he goes.

With the stick
in his right hand.

Exactly.

Now, why, when you're
running for your life,

why pause, do a sort
of duck shuffle,
change hands,

and then run straight
into the arms of
whoever shot him?

SUPERINTENDENT:
Any explanation

from your side of
the street, Mr. Smiley?

If I might see
the content

of his pockets,
Superintendent.

Certainly, sir.

Uh, one receipt for £17.85
from the Straight and Steady

Minicab Service
of Islington North.

May I see that?

SUPERINTENDENT:
One stick of school
chalk, yellow,

overcoat left.

One handkerchief
with chalk powder.

MAN:
There were some
chalk powder marks

on his
left hand, too.

We did wonder
whether he might be

in the teaching line, actually.

SUPERINTENDENT:
Oh, and a couple
of dog biscuits.

No maker's name.

I did notice bite marks
on his walking stick.

Funny, I never thought
of foreigners liking dogs.

Did you, sir?

Uh, no, I don't suppose I did.

Crime and Ops
on the air, sir.

Oh, right.

Excuse me.

You're a specialist

of some
sort, sir?

No, I'm afraid not.

Home Office, sir?

Alas, not the
Home Office either.

( police radio transmissions )

( plastic bags rustling )

My superiors are
a little worried

about the press,
Mr. Smiley.

Apparently they're
heading this way.

Thank you.

You've been very kind.

Privilege.

Sergeant!

PIKE:
Sir?

Get this lot wrapped up.

Yes, sir.

Uh, no, Chief, not yet, no.

Perhaps he's lost his way.

( chuckles briefly )

No, Chief, no,
not like old George.

( doorbell rings )

Any compromising materials
on the body, George?

Anything to link
him with us?

My God,
you've been a time.

Oh, you'd like to
refresh yourself,
I imagine.

The bathroom's...

Thank you, Oliver,
I remember.

Yes, Chief, yes, he is with us
at this moment, Chief.

I shall tell him
that, Chief.

LACON:
George, you look worried.

Don't be-- we're all
in the clear on this.

How did the police behave?

Impeccably, thank you.

STRICKLAND:
Indeed...

Sir, I shall convey to him
that message, sir.

Uh-huh.

MOSTYN:
Will you have
tea, Mr. Smiley?

Or something stronger?

He'll have tea only,
thank you, Mostyn.

After shock,
tea is a deal safer.

With sugar,
eh, George?

Sugar replaces lost energy.

I've hardly said hello.

George, old friend.

My goodness.

Hello, Oliver.

STRICKLAND:
George!

Sir Saul sends

his warmest personal
salutations, George.

At a quieter moment,

he'll express
his gratitude

to you more fittingly.

It is still Enderby
in charge, is it?

LACON:
Yes, yes, it is still
Sir Saul Enderby.

He's doing marvels.

Well, not quite
your style, of course.

He's an Atlantic man.

Mostyn, where's tea?

We seem to have been
waiting forever!

STRICKLAND:
The point about the press is

not to play him down
too far, hmm?

How's Ann?

With you and so forth, I trust?

Not, uh, roaming, is she?

Fine, thank you.

God, how I hate autumn.

How's, um...?

Abandoned me, damn it.

Run off with her pesky
riding instructor, blast her.

Left me
with the children.

Well, the girls are farmed out
to boarding schools, thank God.

I'm sorry.

Why should you be?

Not your wife.

STRICKLAND:
Could you close
that window, please?

It's bloody arctic over here.

What section are you in?

Oddbins, sir.

Since your day.

It's a sort of
operational pool.

I see.

I heard you lecture
at Sarratt, sir.

At the new entrants'
training course, sir.

It was the best thing
of the whole two years.

Thank you.

You--
Mostyn.

Young Nigel.

Commit nothing
to paper whatever.

Do you hear me?

That's an order
from on high.

There was no encounter,
so there's no call

to fill in
an encounter sheet

or any of that stuff.

Mostyn was Vladimir's
case officer?

Only for this evening.

Two sugars.

You mean to say you farmed out
the old man to Mostyn?

Oliver, I wonder if you'd mind
telling me what I'm doing here.

LACON:
Three years ago, George--
let's start there.

Soon after you left the Circus,

Saul Enderby,
your worthy successor,

under pressure
from a concerned Cabinet,

decided on certain
far-reaching changes

of intelligence practice.

Mostyn, you close
your ears to this.

I'm talking high,
high policy.

Now, one of the
far-reaching changes, George,

was the decision
to form

an interministerial
steering committee,

placed between the intelligence
fraternity and Cabinet,

known as
the "Wise Men."

STRICKLAND:
Wise, my Aunt Fanny.

Bunch of flannel
merchants.

Tell us how to run the shop.

Smack our wrists

when we don't do
our sums right.

You don't like it, George.

I can tell by your face.

I'm out of it;
I'm not qualified to judge.

LACON:
Now, as a result
of this,

certain categories
of clandestine operation

were ruled
ipso facto out of bounds.

Verboten,
right?

STRICKLAND:
No coat trailing,

no honey traps,
no stimulated defections,

no émigrés--
no bugger-all.

What's that?

LACON:
Let's not
be simplistic,

please, Lauder.

The Wise Men
composed a catalogue

of proscribed
practices, right?

STRICKLAND:
The exile groups have been
dustbinned, George,

the lot of them--
orders from on high.

No contact,
not even at arm's length.

Special two-key archive
for them on the fifth floor.

No officer access
without consent

in writing
from the Chief.

Utter nonsense.

George, now steady.

SMILEY:
What utter nonsense.

Vladimir wasn't expensive.

He wasn't an indulgence either.

You know as well as I do

what he
was worth.

George, I admired the man.

Never his group, certainly
never his obsessions.

Now, there is an absolute
distinction here.

The man, yes, not
the company he kept,

the fantasists,
the down-at-heel
princelings, never.

The Wise Men have a point,
George, and you can't deny it.

Vladimir was one of the
best agents we ever had.

Because he was yours, you mean?

Because he was good!

He was potty.

He was loyal and honorable.

In a shifting world,
he held fast,

so, yes, maybe he was potty.

George...
In the Red Army

he fought the Germans
like a lion.

We used to admire that.

He dreamed of the great
Russian liberalization.

He got Stalin instead.

He wanted Estonia set free.

It never happened.

One night, in despair,
he offered us his services.

Us, the British,

in Moscow.

For five years
after that,

he spied for us

from the very heart
of the capital.

He refused
all payment.

Risked everything
for us every day.

George, this is history.

This is
not today.

Until he was blown
and fled to Paris,

Vladimir was
the best source we had

on Soviet capabilities
and intentions.

He was close

to their
intelligence community

and reported
on that, too.

Damn it, George,
that whole era's dead.

And so is Vladimir!

And I wish to God
we'd got half his courage

and one-tenth of his integrity.

George, we are pragmatists,
we adapt.

We are not the keepers
of some sacred flame.

I ask you, I commend you

to remember this.

Oliver, tell me
what I am doing here.

All right, Mostyn, tell him.

MOSTYN:
He was furious.

Shouting at me
down the phone:

"A meeting or nothing.

"Tonight or nothing.

"Moscow Rules.

"I insist
on Moscow Rules.

Tell this to Max."

Tell what to Max?

MOSTYN:
He meant...

"Tell Max I insist
it's Moscow Rules."

Whoever heard of Moscow Rules

in the middle of bloody
Hampstead anyway?

"Bloody" Hampstead's right.

What, um...
what are Moscow Rules?

MOSTYN:
Procedures
to be observed

in territories
of extreme risk, sir.

Going by the book
all the way.

STRICKLAND:
Oh, Mostyn,

wrap the story up.

MOSTYN:
The encounter
was fixed for 10:20.

There's a tin pavilion
on Hampstead Heath

five minutes' walk
from East Heath Road.

The safety signal was
one new drawing pin

shoved high in
the first support

on the right
as you entered.

SMILEY:
And the countersignal?

A bloody hunting horn.

( chuckling )

MOSTYN:
A yellow chalk mark.

I gather yellow was
the sort of group trademark

from the old days.

I put up the pin

and came back here
and waited.

I never met him.

He was my first agent,

we used
classic trade craft,

and he's dead.

It's incredible.

I feel like
a complete Jonah.

Well, what's it to be, George?

You choose.

On the one hand,

Vladimir asked
for a chat with you.

Retired buddies,
chin wag about
old times, why not?

And in order to raise
a bit of a wind,

as any of us might,
he pretended he had

something
for you.

He wouldn't do that.

On this basis

my minister would back us.

He'll help us to bury the case.

He may even decide
there's no point

in troubling the Wise Men
with it

at all.

Amen.

If, on the other hand,

things were to come unstuck

and the minister
got it into his head

that we were engaging
his good offices

in order to clear up traces
of some unlicensed venture,

which had aborted
and there was a scandal...

well, it would be just
one scandal too many.

The Circus is a weak
child still, George.

At this stage
of its rebirth,

it could die of
the common cold.

If it does,

your generation will
not be least to blame.

You have a duty, as we all do,

a loyalty.

And the weapon?

How do you account for that?

What weapon?

There was no weapon.

He was shot, by one of
his own buddies most likely.

SMILEY:
Yes, he was shot...

in the face...
at extremely close range

and cursorily searched--
that's the police diagnosis.

But our diagnosis would be
somewhat different,

wouldn't it, Lauder?

No way.

Well, mine would.

LACON:
Let's hear it,
George.

For one thing, he was on his way
here to be your guest.

Self-invited.

SMILEY:
For another, the weapon
used to kill him

was a standard Moscow Center
assassination device--

a soft-nosed bullet
fired at point-blank range

to obliterate, to punish
and to discourage others.

But, George, these people,
these émigrés--

don't they come from Russia?

Haven't half of them
been in touch
with Moscow Center

with or without
our knowledge?

A weapon
like that...

I'm not saying you're right,
of course,

but a weapon like that,
in their world,

could be standard equipment.

Lauder, there's the question

of the D-notice
to the press
outstanding.

Perhaps you should have
another shot at them,

see how far it's got?

( dialing phone )

( grunts )

( cries out )

( tires screech )

LACON:
Uh, Mostyn, perhaps
you should take

these things out
into the kitchen.

We don't want to leave
needless traces, do we?

So... you were his vicar.

Very well,
I'm asking you

to go and read
the offices.

He wanted you,
George, not us.

In that sense,
I suppose

it could even
be argued

that you were
responsible for...

Forgive me,
that was unfair.

What do you want me to do?

I want you to bury him--
in both senses.

I want you to pour
oil on the waters,

not muddy them.

Tell me what
you want me to do, Oliver.

It's what I don't
want you to do.

He was a man with an obsession.

So were you once.

You know who
his buddies are,

who he
hunted with.

Speak to them.

If there's any
milk been spilt,

I trust you to get it
back into the bottle.

You're his
executor, George.

Tidy him up,
keep us out of it

and don't wander.

( Strickland and Lacon talking
quietly in background )

What else did Vladimir say
to you on the telephone?

He said, "Tell Max
it concerns the Sandman."

"Tell him
I have two proofs

and can bring them
with me."

It was on the tape,
but Strickland erased it.

"Two proofs."

Do you know what
Vladimir meant by that?

Keep your
voice down.

No, sir.

Do they know
what he meant?

Strickland may,
I'm not sure.

Did Vladimir really
not ask for Hector?

No, sir, just Max.

LACON:
George!

Good man!

Fare you well.

Uh, listen, I want
to talk to you

about marriage sometime,

a seminar
with no holds barred.

I'm counting on you
to teach me the art of it.

We'll get together
sometime... later.

I can always
get you at home?

Yes, Oliver, always.

Captioned by
Media Access Group at WGBH
access.wgbh.org