Original subtitles

( engine idling )

( truck roars by )

( rings bell )

( buzzer sounds )

I'd like to look around if I may.

The little red spots mean "sold."

If I might have a word with Mr. Benati?

Oh, I'm afraid Signor Benati is fully involved right now.

Would you tell him it's Mr. Angel.

Alan Angel, he does know me.

WOMAN: Got an angel for you, as in paradise.

Got it, angel?

Mr. Benati says that you can go down.

Why, Mr. Angel.

What pure pleasure, sir.

It has been far too long.

Come in, please.

After you, Signor Benati.

I insist.

So how's trade, Toby?

We've been lucky, George.

We had a fantastic summer.

Autumn, George...

autumn, I would say, was on the slow side.

One must live off one's hump, actually.

Some coffee, George?

No, thank you.

Vladimir's dead.

Shot dead on Hampstead Heath.

Too bad.

That old man, huh? Too bad.

Oliver Lacon's asked me to sweep up the bits.

As you used to be the group's postman,

I thought I'd have a word with you.

Sure.

You knew, then, about his death?

( crisply ): Read it in the papers.

Any theories about who did it?

At his age, George?

After a lifetime of disappointments, you might say?

No family, no prospects,

the group all washed up.

I assumed he had done it himself, naturally.

Naturally.

Anyway, you didn't do it, which is nice.

Huh!

George, you crazy?

Shouldn't this be numbered, Toby,

if it's a Degas?

Degas... that's a very gray area, George.

You got to know exactly what you're dealing with.

But this one is genuine?

Totally.

Would you sell it to me?

What's that?

Just out of academic interest, is it for sale?

If I offered to buy it,

would I be out of court?

Oh, don't be ridiculous, we're talking thousands.

Know what I mean?

It's like a year's pension or something.

George, listen.

At a certain age

a man's got to be what he deserves.

I spent 15 years at the Circus

trying to be an English gentleman.

( laughs mirthlessly )

You know what I am now?

A cheap Austro-Hungarian in expensive clothes.

I've come home.

When was the last time you had anything to do

with Vladi's network, Toby?

George, George, the name is Benati, okay?

I'm not called Hector.

Definitely not Toby Esterhase.

I have an alibi for every day of the year

hiding from my bank manager.

You think I want trouble around my neck?

Emigrés, police, even?

This is an interrogation, George?

You know me, Toby.

Sure, I know you, George.

You want matches so you can burn my feet?

It wasn't suicide.

It definitely wasn't suicide.

I saw the body, believe me.

That's the worry, you see-- cause and effect.

Toby quarrels with Vladimir one day.

Vladimir gets shot with a Russian gun the next.

In police terms,

that's what they call an embarrassing chain of events.

In our terms, too, actually.

George, what the hell is "quarrel"?

I never quarreled with the old man in my life.

Mikhel says you did.

You go talking to Mikhel?

You got some pretty lousy friends suddenly.

I'm embarrassed.

According to Mikhel,

the old man was very bitter about you.

"Hector is no good."

What happened to make Vladimir so passionate about you?

I'd like to keep it away from the police if I can, you see.

And Saul Enderby, if I can.

George, kindly answer me something.

Who is speaking here?

Is it George Smiley?

Is it Oliver Lacon?

Who is speaking, please?

You met Vladimir.

What happened?

You tell me that,

and I'll tell you who's speaking.

( sighs )

Vladimir put up a distress rocket.

Not through the Circus, surely?

Through friends of mine.

When?

Two weeks ago.

He asks to see me immediately,

like he's stolen the Kremlin codes--

a crash meeting.

Where?

In the Science Museum, top floor.

All those airplanes.

Lot of kiddies eating crisps.

And he put a proposition?

He wanted me to play courier for him.

To carry what?

He was not precise.

It was documentary.

It was small.

No concealment needed.

And the where?

Did Vladimir tell you that, too?

Germany.

Which one?

Ours, the north of it.

Hamburg.

It was a private arrangement.

No Circus involvement till we'd done the job.

And the compensation for your labors?

First we take the document to Max.

That's you, George.

Max would know its meaning.

Max would reward us.

Gifts, promotion, medals.

Maybe we get lunch

with the Queen.

( laughs mirthlessly )

Only problem was Vladimir didn't know

you were on the shelf

and the Circus had joined the Boy Scouts.

Finito.

( bell rings upstairs, buzzer sounds )

Cigarette, George?

You smoke these days?

Glass of sherry maybe?

You want to drop this line of inquiry, George.

That is my strong advice to you.

Abandon it.

The point is,

you sent him packing.

He appealed to you, and you slammed the door in his face.

And you want to know why, maybe?

Remember the name Otto Leipzig, by any chance?

Fabricator.

Intelligence peddler.

Confidence man.

Sex maniac.

Pimp.

Holder many times

of our Creep of the Year award.

Remember that great hero?

It wasn't all fabrication, though, was it?

His Moscow Center material, for instance.

I don't remember we ever faulted him on that, ever.

Vladimir trusted him implicitly.

On the Moscow stuff, so did we.

George, where the hell are you going with your mind?

And he had a partner.

Yes, that comes back to me, too--

an immigrant, an East German.

( derisively ): Worse than East German-- Saxon.

Name of Kretzschmar.

First name Claus.

Claus with a 'C,' don't ask me why.

I mean, these guys have no logic at all.

Claus Kretzschmar was also a creep--

a blond creep, lot of muscles.

But that was long ago, Toby.

Who cares?

It was a perfect marriage.

Then I expect it didn't last.

How is she, George?

Fine, just fine.

George, listen.

Who are you fooling... okay?

George, listen to me once, please.

Okay?

Maybe I give you once a lecture.

George, I owe you.

No, you got to listen.

So you pulled me from out of the gutter once in Vienna

when I was a stinking kid.

I was a Leipzig-- a bum.

So you got me my job with the Circus.

So we had a lot of times together, stole some horses.

You remember the first rule of retirement, George?

No moonlighting.

No fooling with loose ends.

No private enterprise--

ever.

You remember who preaches this rule?

At Sarratt in the corridors?

George Smiley did.

Quote: "When it's over, it's over.

"Pull down the shutters.

Go home." Unquote.

We're over, George.

We got no license.

They don't want us anymore.

Forget it.

So... Ann gave you a bad time

with Bill Haydon.

So there's Karla.

Karla was Bill's big daddy in Moscow.

I mean, George, I mean, this gets very crude.

You know what I mean?

It puts a strain on friendship.

Otto Leipzig gave a party recently.

Recognize any of his guests?

Who's the second man, Toby?

George, listen.

You've got to give this up.

The crowds have all gone home.

Who is he?

George, pay attention to me, please.

Now, you listen.

People forge things like that these days.

You don't understand these matters.

You do not buy photographs

from Otto Leipzig.

You don't buy Degas from Signor Benati, you follow me?

Is this a forgery?

I hope so.

Leipzig had a man called Kirov in play,

a Russian intelligence officer based on Paris.

Is this Kirov?

Yes, could be.

And is?

Sure.

You don't want to get caught between those two, George.

You're too young.

Leipzig traveled a lot.

How did we raise him if we needed him?

For crash meetings,

we contacted Claus Kretzschmar.

Now, George, for God's sake, please,

hear me once.

So how did we reach Kretzschmar?

He's got a nightclub.

Or more a cathouse.

We left a message there.

What's it called?

Kretzschmar's nightclub-- what's it called?

The Blue Diamond.

Der Blaue Diamant.

In Hamburg?

Sure.

St. Pauli-- the clean side.

Now, George, don't do it, okay?

Whatever it is, drop it.

Cheers.

Love to Ann.

What else did Vladimir tell you

about Leipzig's information?

Nothing.

He said the Sandman was looking

for a legend for a girl.

Like before.

Now, George, please.

That guy...

You know why they call Karla the Sandman, don't you?

He has a way of putting to sleep whoever comes too close to him.

Like Vladimir, for instance.

Ever seen one of these before?

From a lady.

She wrote to Vladi asking for help.

She wants a magician sent her.

She thinks she's going to be killed.

Fifteenth district.

George, do me a favor, okay?

You want a Hungarian baby-sitter someday,

call me.

You go messing around

with creeps like Kirov and Leipzig,

you better have a creep like Toby look after you.

You're an old spy in a hurry, George.

You used to say they were the worst.

Oh, they are, Toby.

They are.

Now, don't tell me I was speeding.

Oh, I wouldn't dream of it, sir.

You remember me, sir? Ferguson?

I used to head up the transport pool

in the days when you were Chief.

And what are you doing now I'm not Chief?

General factotum, sir.

Part-time, but still on the side of the angels.

I didn't know we had any angels.

I've got a message from the top, sir.

It's nothing personal, if you take my meaning,

but he says, "That's it."

What's "it"?

Time to call it a day, sir.

He doesn't think you need go any further,

if you'll forgive me.

Ferguson, I am an honorary fellow

of Lincoln College, Oxford.

I have dining rights there

and limited facilities for improving my mind.

Is Sir Saul Enderby proposing to place me

under house arrest?

Oh, no, sir.

It's not like that a bit.

Very well, then.

You go back to London, and I'll go to Oxford.

Yes, sir.

You did remember me, didn't you, sir?

Ferguson?

Of course I did.

( car starts up )

( dogs barking )

( dog barks, then howls )

( several dogs barking )

( quietly ): You said you would never come here.

You swore!

You said you'd leave her in peace!

I'm sorry, Hilary.

It's only a fleeting visit, I promise.

WOMAN: What is it, Hils?

Bog-weevil, budgie or giraffe?

It's human, Con.

CON: She-human or the other thing?

It's George, Con.

CON: George?

Which George?

Connie, it's me.

Damn you, George Smiley.

Damn you and all who sail in you.

Welcome to Siberia.

Hello, Con.

Hils.

I said Hils!

Yes, Con?

Go and feed the doggie-wogs,

and when you've done that,

feed the filthy chickadees.

Go on, hoof it, darling.

Nothing he can do to you now.

He's shot his bolt and, God knows, so have I.

Well?

Come on.

Connie's not coming back, you know.

The old fool's hung up her boots for good.

So if that's what you're after,

you can tell Saul Enderby

to shove it up his smoke and pipe it.

Connie's for the shredder, George.

The leech tries to fool me.

That's because he's a funk.

It's death.

The Big D, that's what I'm suffering from.

Is that booze you're toting in your pocket

or a bloody great gun?

It's fatal either way.

Oh, goody.

Let's have lots.

How's that cow Ann?

Flourishing, I gather.

You gather?

Wish you would gather.

Gather her up for good, or else drop her down a hole.

All right, what are you after?

You never did anything yet without a reason.

Mud in your eye.

And in yours, Con.

I need your memory, Con.

Bust.

Out of order.

I've discovered love since we parted.

Addles the hormones.

Rots the teeth.

It's one of those old cases

that's popped alive again, the way they do.

Nobody seems to know the full story except Connie.

Mice eaten the files, have they?

You know how mice are.

I know how rats are.

How is the bastard, anyway?

Which one?

Saul bloody Enderby, of course.

Eating well, is he?

Coat shiny? Nose wet?

What was it you used to say?

"I wouldn't trust Saul Enderby

further than I could throw Oliver Lacon."

( both chuckle )

Kirov, Connie.

Oleg Kirov.

Ring a bell?

Give me a "once upon a time."

Toby Esterhase still crawling around

on his belly, is he?

They all remember you, too.

You wouldn't work for that shower, George.

Not for all the gold in Moscow.

You're flying solo.

You've got your Karla look.

Once upon a time

there was a low-grade Moscow Center hood

called Uncle Oleg Kirov.

Based on Paris, but worked the Western circuit.

Vladimir put us on to him.

Go on from there.

Oh, Vladimir, yes.

How is the old stoat?

Still terrifying

the virgins of Paddington, I trust.

I expect so.

I thought he walked into a bullet

the other night.

Suppose you want me

to tell you who shot him.

Well, if you do happen to know, Con,

I'm sure we'd all be very grateful for a name.

( chuckles )

George Smiley.

The Chelsea pensioner himself.

Gawd 'elp us.

Fought every war since Thermopolae,

hot, cold and deep frozen.

Give it up, George.

Be like the old fool here.

Grab yourself a bit of love and wait for Armageddon.

"Tell Max it concerns the Sandman."

Vladimir sent me that message three days ago.

He said he had proofs.

He walked into his bullet trying to get them to me.

The fat gentleman on the left

is Oleg Kirov, if you remember him.

Oh, I'm blind.

Fish that lamp over.

The Ginger Pig!

Caught at last!

It's a fake.

No, it's not.

Otto Leipzig finally nailed him.

He's put on a year or two, hasn't he?

That's what hate does for you.

Where's the confession?

What did he want for it?

Well, pay him.

Give him the whole bloody reptile fund if he wants it.

But pay him!

Not until I've heard

the authorized version from Connie.

Karla would grind Kirov into the dust for this!

Karla would get hold of his...

Go and see

to the mad bitch.

Make sure she doesn't chuck herself

into the millrace.

( humming softly to herself )

George!

Still here, Con.

CONNIE: It concerns the Sandman

and what?

The Sandman is putting together a legend for a girl.

CONNIE: Again?

So it seems.

You'll never crack it, George.

How is she?

Seems fine.

CONNIE: Well, stop loafing and come back in here.

CONNIE: Do you want the works?

On the record, off the record,

all the maybes.

They were students together.

Leipzig and Kirov?

No, you silly ass.

Bob Hope and Fred Astaire.

25 bleeding years ago.

Tallinn University, Estonia.

Leipzig pulled the girls

and the Ginger Pig grunted along behind,

gobbling up his leavings, adoring him...

And betraying him.

Naturally, darling, don't be a ninny.

Kirov was cutting his milk teeth for Moscow Center.

Was he?

Oh, stop flirting, George.

Kiev training school, course '59.

One of the worst vintages they ever had,

and that's saying something.

And at university?

Stirring up the Estonian dissidents.

Organizing them,

encouraging them,

and then shopping them to the secret police.

All charm, our little Kirov-- always was.

Leipzig was a rogue, of course.

Into all the rackets.

Foreign currency, bit of pimping.

But he was straight.

It never crossed his mind that Kirov could be a stool pigeon

till it was too late.

Still love me, George?

Like you used to?

Kirov betrays the dissident students,

the secret police round them up,

Leipzig included.

Leipzig does the impossible and escapes.

Which is more than some of us ever did.

George Smiley-- born in captivity.

And 20 years later, Kirov pops up in Paris.

And while in Paris...

Assistant to the assistant

to the assistant cultural attaché, Soviet embassy.

"Le cochon culturel."

What's "ginger" in Frog?

Oh, come on, Con, let's cut away the wood.

And while in Paris is seen by Vladimir's people

and recognized.

"Kirov, the spy of Tallinn."

Right?

Oh, I've forgotten.

Get me a drink.

So Vladimir was on the warpath.

He needs a befriender.

Someone to lead Kirov into sinful ways.

So who did he choose?

Otto Leipzig.

Who better?

And brother Kirov, little suspecting

that his darling Otto knows his wicked past,

walks into it with his eyes wide shut.

"Woo-hoo, Otto.

"Haven't seen you for years.

Come and pimp for me like old times!"

Oh, why did Karla hire a moron like that?

May as well have hired him for the Bolshoi Ballet.

Oh, give it up, George, it's over.

It's not a fighting war.

Not like in our day.

It's gray.

Half-devils versus half-angels.

Nobody knows where the goodies are.

Karla could be right.

You ever thought of that?

He was Karla's man.

But he was no good.

But what sort of man?

He didn't run moles like bloody Bill Haydon.

He never used the Karla apparatus.

He didn't use the Karla codes.

What did he use?

A courier--

sent specially from Moscow all for him

with love from Karla.

And that's all we ever knew.

It's dead, George.

Dead as I am-- bloody nearly.

Listen.

It's the end of day-- a Friday.

Somebody's brought a bottle.

All the young faces gathered around you,

hanging on your every word.

Mother Russia spinning her tale.

How Karla's human after all.

He's got a soft spot.

His one Achilles heel.

Karla had a mistress.

Who?

An Estonian girl.

Come on, Con.

Define, expand, come on.

Some partisan heroine he met

fighting behind the lines.

Winter '43.

'45 he took her to Moscow, set her up as his ideal hag.

His Ann.

Tutored her.

Played Pygmalion games with her.

And then?

Had her topped.

One-way ticket to the Gulag.

What for?

Having doubts.

Going soft on the Revolution.

His idea of a marital tiff.

Mistress had a daughter.

Daughter went bonkers.

Karla shoved her in the bin.

End of story.

Oh, I'm tired.

Must nave been something I ate...

Connie!

For 30 tiresome years

we flattered you, stroked you, dried you out,

just for your damned memory.

Now use it!

We owe it to him.

To Vladimir.

You do.

Now, wake up

and be useful.

( door shuts )

I want you to go-- now!

Hilary, I would like you

to make us some more coffee, please.

( forcefully ): Hilary, would you please make us some coffee.

CONNIE: Make it for him.

( softly ): I want you to go.

What was her name?

Don't know.

Guess.

Tatiana.

Is that an informed guess?

Little Tatiana...

went to bed with gentlemen

she hadn't been formally introduced to.

Painted saucy slogans on official walls.

Born?

October 12, '53.

Libra.

Didn't save her, though, all that lovely balance.

Loved the snow, so they say.

Karla used to take her tobogganing.

Sneak off for weekends, matters of high business.

Didn't show, to begin with, the mad part.

Pretty child, bright, full of fun.

Everything a Bolshie baby should be.

And then puberty got her and Mum disappeared...

and the shadows gathered and gathered

and they didn't go away.

But he still loved her?

Adored her, lived for her.

Visited her in the clinics, fronted for her--

swept the messes under the carpet, so they say.

Who's they, Con?

A Red Army doctor.

Psychiatrist.

Slipped the leash while he was on a conference in Stockholm.

Claims to have treated the girl Tatiana

in Leningrad military hospital,

listened to the story of her life.

Tried to cure her.

Shocks, pills-- didn't work.

Daughter of a high official.

Had the delusion that her father had her mother bumped off.

And what became of the doctor?

No, George.

Yes, George!

He walked into a bullet

the day after his debriefing.

One of those nice, soft ones that don't hurt.

Bill Haydon must have sent Karla his address.

Thank you, Con.

You've filled in the gaps for me.

Hilary.

Hilary, you heard all that, didn't you?

Do you remember when you had your nervous breakdown

and we had to send you away from the Circus?

You signed a piece of paper

saying you'd never talk to people

about your work there--

all the things you overheard by chance.

Whoever may come here, whoever it is...

CONNIE: Oh, leave her alone!

What did you come here for

if you know it all anyway?

I was sleep-walking.

I've woken up.

Oh, go home, George Smiley.

Good-bye, Con.

I'm sorry.

George.

That courier--

the one who plays the messenger boy

between Karla and the Ginger Pig.

What about him?

His name's Krassky.

First name Stephan.

Doubles as a hit man in his spare time.

Thank you.

The trouble with couriers is

you can never get near enough to buy them.

Elusive swine.

Go well, George.

You too, Con.

( yelling ): Don't ever come back!

Fascist pig!

Woman hater!

Bastard!

They are telling it everywhere.

He died like a soldier, they say.

How does a soldier die?

He was shot.

Tell me what I can do.

You...

You can do nothing.

Karl Marx was right.

Self-defense is given only to barbarians.

You are not a barbarian, Sergei.

You are a poet.

( ambulance siren wailing in background )

My husband died like a soldier-- of cancer.

My lover was a Jew.

He died of a surfeit of opinions.

My daughter lives, or dies,

or lives again according to what they want of her.

I myself have died a few times these last few days.

I do not intend to do it again.

( key chain jingles )

( trigger clicks, chamber clicks open )

( ship's horn blowing )

( faint throb of dance music playing inside nightclub )

( loud rhythmic music playing )

Whiskey, thank you.

I wish to remain alone.

No company.

I shall advise the house, sir.

Concerning Herr Kretzschmar...

is he from Saxony, by any chance?

Yes, sir.

Is Herr Kretzschmar in the house tonight?

Herr Kretzschmar is a man with commitments, sir.

He is obliged to divide his time

between several establishments.

If he comes, have the goodness to let me know.

He will be here at 11:00 exactly, sir.

( sensuous jazz playing )

( quiet, sultry jazz playing )

( people conversing quietly )

Herr Kretzschmar has arrived, sir.

MAN: Ja?

Komme!

Please.

I understand you were once a business partner

to an acquaintance of mine named Otto Leipzig.

I happen to be visiting Hamburg

and I wondered if you could tell me where he is.

His address doesn't appear to be listed anywhere.

Who are you, please?

Otto called me Max.

And your business with Herr Leipzig,

if I may ask?

I represent a large company.

Among other interests, we own a literary and photographic agency

for freelance reporters.

So?

Recently, the business relationship

between Herr Leipzig and my company was revived...

initially by means of the telephone.

I came here to commission further work,

assuming, of course,

Herr Leipzig is in a position to do it.

Of what nature was this work, please,

that Herr Leipzig sent to you, Herr Max?

It was a negative photograph of erotic content.

My firm always insists on negatives.

Herr Leipzig knew this, naturally.

I rather think it must have been taken

from that window.

A peculiarity of the photograph

is that Herr Leipzig himself was modeling in it.

One therefore assumes that a friend or business partner

may have operated the camera.

There is another aspect.

Yes?

Unhappily, the gentleman who was acting

as intermediary on this occasion

met with a serious accident

shortly after the negative was put in our care.

The usual line of communication with Herr Leipzig

was therefore severed.

How so an accident?

What sort of accident?

A fatal one.

I came here to talk to Otto and to warn him.

No disturbances.

RECEPTIONIST: Yes, sir.

You said Herr Leipzig was an old acquaintance

of your parent company?

As I believe you yourself were,

long ago, Herr Kretzschmar.

Herr Leipzig corresponded with my company

through a certain "General."

A few years ago, the General was obliged

to move from Paris to London, but Otto kept in touch with him.

Until his accident.

Precisely.

It was a traffic accident?

An old man a bit careless?

He was shot.

It wasn't suicide or an accident

or anything like that.

Naturally.

You have met Otto?

You know him?

I have met him once.

Where?

I am not at liberty to say.

Have you brought me something...

such as a letter of introduction?

A card, for instance?

No.

Nothing to show.

That's a pity.

Perhaps when I have seen Herr Leipzig,

I shall understand your question better.

But you have seen it evidently,

this photograph?

You have it with you, maybe?

I wish to explain to you.

I run a decent house here.

I am not in the habit of photographing clients.

Other people sell ties.

I sell sex.

The important thing to me

is to conduct my business in an orderly and correct manner.

But this was not business.

This was friendship.

Let's go over here.

Want a drink?

Scotch?

Cognac?

SMILEY: Thank you, no.

You knew him, Herr Max?

That old General?

You were personally connected with him?

Yes.

He was something, I understand.

He was indeed.

A lion.

A lion.

Otto was crazy about him.

"Claus"...

My name is Claus.

"Claus," he would say.

"That Vladimir, I love that man."

A lot of people do not believe in Otto.

Your parent company also,

they do not always believe in Otto.

This is understandable.

I make no reproach.

But the General, he believed in Otto.

Not in every detail, but in the big things.

I also believed him, in the big things.

You are sure you have nothing for me, Herr Max?

Beyond the photograph, I have nothing for you.

The General was shot in England.

Yes.

But you consider nevertheless Otto, too, is in danger?

Yes, but I think he has chosen to be.

Me, too.

I also.

This is my clear impression.

Many years ago, Otto Leipzig went to prison for me.

In those days I was not respectable.

Now I have money, I can afford to be.

We stole something.

He was caught, he lied, he took the whole rap.

When he came out, I wanted to pay him.

He declined my offers.

Herr Max, you are an Englishman.

You will appreciate my position.

Yes, of course.

Indeed.

Maybe two months ago,

the old General comes through on the telephone.

He needs Otto urgently.

"Not tomorrow, but tonight."

Then the old man tells me,

"I sent you a letter for him.

Guard it with your life."

Next day a letter comes, express,

for Kretzschmar, postmark London.

I find Otto.

He's hiding from trouble again, no money.

Only one suit he's got, but he dresses like a film star.

I give him the old man's letter.

Which is a bulky one?

A long letter.

Many pages.

"Claus," he said to me.

"Lend me some money.

I got to go to Paris."

I lend him 500 marks, no problem.

He disappears.

A month ago he came to see me.

Here, in this room.

I am being frank.

He was... well, I would say excited.

He wished to use the nightclub?

He called it a honey-trap.

He would bring a man to the club--

an "Ivan," as we call Russians.

This man was the target.

He called him "the target."

He said, "This is the chance of my life,

everything I have waited for."

What could I say?

I owed him.

"Also, Claus, I want you to photograph us."

I said, "No problem."

I have cameras.

Video.

The latest kind, made in Germany.

He also wanted me to record conversations.

No problem.

I have my people, you follow me?

Did he give you any idea of why he wished to blackmail this man?

He was not precise.

"A step on the General's ladder," he said.

"For me, the target is enough.

But for the General, he is only a step on the ladder."

"For Max also."

Is he right?

And when it was over, what did Otto think he had achieved?

He laughed.

"Now I have taken him over the edge, and he can't get back."

That's all that happened.

And you haven't seen Otto again since then?

No, Herr Max, not since.

But you do have an address where I might find him?

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