Original subtitles

All set, sir.

ENDERBY: Blue movies, Molly.

Think you can stand it?

Probably seen more than we have, hmm?

Right.

I'm going to show you two bits of your collateral,

without which I wouldn't believe a word of it.

All right, Strickland, act one, scene one.

Close your eyes, Molly.

ENDERBY: Now here they are, the four of them...

rollicking about.

These girls put on quite a turn, I think, for hookers.

Here's the burn-- somebody's turned the lights up,

probably Kretzschmar.

And Leipzig's saying "gotcha."

All right, wind it on, Strickland.

We can watch the rest some other time.

But what's there is enough to have Kirov scalped in Moscow,

right, Molly?

It certainly would

on Karla's side of the house.

ENDERBY: And... all right.

Now, this is about, what, an hour later?

They're back into their city suits.

Uh, 41 minutes, 20 seconds.

At a gal.

I like that bit.

So...

Now, Kirov sings--

the story of his life.

All right, switch it off, Strickland.

Get us a drink.

Scotch, everyone?

George?

I'll pass, thank you.

All right.

Four, then.

Ice and water.

Oh, where the hell are they?

Ah.

( sighs loudly )

Bloody things.

Okay.

Common ground.

It's not a fake, right, Molly?

Not unless Kirov was collaborating

on a piece of fabrication.

ENDERBY: You mean Kirov and Leipzig stinging us,

cooking up a tale together, earning a few bob on the side?

I say...

you have got a dirty mind.

I don't think it's a serious possibility.

All right, here we go.

The nub of it.

Brother Kirov's... lament,

followed by...

Here we are.

Brother Kirov's confession.

Now...

All comfortable?

Snug as a bug, Chief.

ENDERBY: Ears pinned back, George?

Page 69.

Sorry about that.

( chuckles quietly alone )

Didn't hear me.

Never mind.

I'm Kirov.

"The Thirteenth Directorate is

a secret service within Moscow Center."

Thanks, we all knew that.

"Its task is the placing and servicing of illegal agents

"under deep cover in fascist countries,

known also as 'moles.'"

Shades of bloody Bill Haydon, hmm?

Sorry, George.

You'd think a man making his deathbed confession

would have the grace to keep it brief, wouldn't you?

But oh, no, not our Kirov.

So, over to page 100-and-something... two!

Off we go again.

"In the course of my general investigations

"into financial irregularities in Moscow Center,

"two officers of Karla's directorate came into question.

"As a result of my activities, both were summarily executed

and I thus came personally to the attention of Karla himself."

That tallies,

does it, Molly?

Grade four reports of that period confirm, Chief.

What does that mean, darling?

It means "maybe," Chief.

All right over there, George?

You look a bit bilious.

Me?

Oh, yes.

Thank you, quite all right.

We're not too rich for your blood, eh?

Good.

Right.

Chapter two.

Karla summons Kirov to his lair in the forest.

Heart in mouth, Kirov comes running.

Tête-à-tête.

No witnesses.

Small wooden hut, monastic atmosphere, no trimmings...

Karla goes to the nub.

How would Kirov like a posting to Europe?

Kirov would like it very much, creep, crawl, creep.

Mmm.

Strickland, check people's glasses,

will you?

Interesting...

Kirov thought Karla looked twitchy:

"under stress," "smoking like a chimney."

SMILEY: He always did that.

Did what?

He was always an excessive smoker.

Was he, by God, was he?

Didn't think he had any vices.

Blah, blah, blah.

"For my night work, I would be responsible

"for the conduct and control of financial accounts

"in all the outstations of the Thirteenth Directorate

in the following cities."

And then he goes on...

Thanks.

Goes on to name them.

Bonn, Hamburg, et al.

Peter?

Yes?

Not losing you in the labyrinth, are we?

No, sir.

Because I shall want you

to hold on to George's coattails in this.

You know that, do you?

No, sir.

( sighs )

Well... you know now.

Okay?

Here's the $64 one.

"Karla also warned me

"I would be required to find cover backgrounds, or legends,

for future agents."

Now we're at the bone.

Oh, he adds a note for cretins.

"A 'legend' is Moscow Center jargon for a spy's biography."

Thank you, Oleg.

George?

Saul?

ENDERBY: Let yourself go.

Have a scotch.

If you insist.

Good.

Away we go again.

"I had not been in Paris long

"when a personal signal from Karla advised me

"a legend was required urgently

"for a female agent, age about 26 years.

"Karla's signal referred me

"to several émigré families

who might be persuaded by pressure..."

( chuckles )

"to adopt such an agent as their own child,

"since blackmail is considered preferable technique

to bribery."

Damn right it is.

Cheers.

At the current rate of inflation,

blackmail's about the only thing

that holds its value.

( chuckles )

Interregnum.

Kirov dutifully trawls the émigrés, without result.

Karla exhorts Kirov to greater efforts.

Kirov strives still harder...

and goofs again.

Kirov was no good, was he, George?

No.

Karla didn't dare trust his own chaps--

that's your point--

and so he had to go out into the sticks

and recruit an ape like Kirov.

Yes.

A clod.

Sort of bloke who'd never make Sarratt.

Oh, that reminds me, George.

Did you twist that fellow Mostyn's tail

by any chance?

What do you mean?

Yes, I thought so.

That's why I sacked him.

Tried to sell him to the BBC,

but they wouldn't have him.

What's he up to now, Strickland?

He's in retreat, sir.

Joined an order of Franciscan monks near Ipswich.

ENDERBY: Ipswich?

A cold bloody spot to pray.

The point is, I suppose...

having set up his apparatus,

trained it to accept his iron rule,

Karla didn't dare use it for this deal.

That's your point?

That's my point.

Ergo, we're dealing with a bunch of ninnies,

not red-toothed hoods.

Not ninnies, just ordinary people.

You mean hoods aren't?

Karla was under stress.

He had to take risks.

Like bumping chaps off?

That was more recent.

You're bloody forgiving these days, aren't you, George?

Am I?

If you say so.

And bloody meek, too.

Molly?

Yes, Chief?

You checked this last lot as well, did you?

Yes, and it fits, Chief.

Bravo.

"After I had been unsuccessful for some time

to find a legend..."

Oh, my Lord alive, this prose.

"...to find a legend,

"Karla again summoned me to his presence

"and drew my attention to the case of the woman Ostrakova,

"whose unacknowledged daughter

"was a citizen of the Soviet Union.

"Following my approach to Ostrakova,

"and the formal issuing of a French permit

"to her daughter, Alexandra,

"I was instructed to set aside immediately

"10,000 American dollars a month from the Paris imprest.

"The monthly payment was not expended by myself

"but transferred to a bank in Thun

"in the Swiss canton of Bern.

"The transfer is made by standing orders

"to the credit of Dr. Adolf Glaser.

"'Glaser' is the work name of the commercial counselor

"at the Soviet Embassy in Bern.

"His real name is Grigoriev.

"I know this because Karla told me

"in case there were complications.

This is all I know."

Except there is a nice little P.S.:

"Otto, my friend, I beg you to preserve these confidences.

They could kill me."

( chuckles )

He's right-- they did.

That's Kirov's last will and testament, you might say.

Well, that's it, George.

Yes.

Molly...

watch my every move, will you?

Why, I'm still going to spell it out, because I'm thick.

One, Ostrakova writes to Vladimir.

Her message rings old bells.

Two, Vladimir sends a copy of her letter to Otto Leipzig.

Three, Leipzig roars off to Paris,

gets confirmation from Ostrakova:

Yes, it is Oleg Kirov on the warpath again.

Four, Leipzig gooses Kirov in Hamburg.

Burns him rotten.

All right so far, everyone?

Peter?

Still stumbling after me, are you?

I think so, sir.

How's marriage?

Blissful, thank you, sir.

Give it three years.

Onward and upward.

Leipzig burns Kirov rotten

and gets word back to Vladimir.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch,

Karla smells a rat.

He sends for Kirov

back to Moscow under the pretext of promotion

but swings him by the ears.

Kirov sings-- as I would-- fast.

Now Karla tries to get the toothpaste back into the tube.

He kills Vladimir while he's on his way to our rendezvous.

Kills Leipzig.

Tries to flatten the old lady, only wings her.

What's his mood now?

Impatient.

Well, why doesn't he dig up his treasure,

put it somewhere else and cover his traces?

The shit's in the fan, he knows that.

Kirov's confessed.

Perhaps the treasure refuses to be moved.

Perhaps Karla's options have run out.

It's daylight madness

to keep that Swiss bank account intact.

It was daylight madness

to use a fool like Kirov.

It was madness to approach Ostrakova,

and madness to believe that by killing three people

he could stop the leak.

And Karla does believe it,

or Grigoriev would not still be in Bern,

which Strickland says he is.

As of today, Counselor Grigoriev of the Soviet Embassy in Bern

is alive and well and en poste.

Then moving the bank account would be totally unnecessary.

So, what is Karla up to?

Giving himself a pension?

I mean...

We all want a bit to retire on, but jeepers.

Has he got a bird somewhere?

Who's worth ten grand a month

and his whole damn career?

It's simply a question

of whether your service wants the product.

Personally, I can't see

that anything else is of any importance.

( chortling ): Can't you?

Can't you, by God?

Oh, I want him, all right.

I want the Mona Lisa

and the chairman of the Chinese People's Republic.

I want Karla sitting in the hot seat at Sarratt,

coughing out his life story to the inquisitors.

I want the American cousins

eating out of my hand for years to come.

I want the whole ball game, of course, I...

It isn't... some wicked Bolshie plot, is it, George,

to lure us to our ultimate destruction?

I'm afraid we're no longer worth the candle, Saul.

( chuckles )

All right, Maud,

leave these people to their privacy.

Let's go into the garden.

( doorbell ringing )

Wait here.

For me, she lets me have the whole top floor,

5,000 francs a month, special price.

I'll say it's special.

WOMAN: Is there anything to go?

No, not till next week.

How many people will you need to man it?

Uh, for a lace-curtain job, 24 hours a day, George,

I need 12 people.

Less, I cut my throat.

Four teams of three, minimum.

Do they get a special price, too?

For George they do it for nothing.

You've got no western prospect.

How do you get over that?

Ah, George, leave it to me.

You hire Toby Esterhase,

you get a Toby Esterhase service.

Now, cars, Toby,

I don't think we can just rely

on stealing Swiss postal vans,

economic though it may be.

George.

It's the one that used to hang in your room.

Saul must have dumped it there.

ESTERHASE: You want a picture of Karla, George?

I get you one more up to date than that.

Authentic provenance, no question.

Shut up.

Thank you, Toby.

I'm only interested in the original.

Waiter.

Now, George, do you think we set our women up too high, hmm?

Is that where

we English middle-class chaps go wrong?

Oh, it may be, Oliver, yes.

Well, if it isn't,

why does Val always fall for shits?

We were always taught

that women had to be cherished.

If you didn't make them feel loved every moment of the day,

they'd go off the rails.

But this chap Val's with,

well, if she annoys him or speaks out of turn,

he'll like as not give her a black eye.

You and I never do that... do we?

I'm sure we don't.

WAITER: Grazie, signori.

Look here,

do you think if I went and saw her,

bearded her in his house,

took a really tough line,

threatened legal action and so forth,

that might tip the scales?

I mean, I'm bigger than he is, God knows.

I'm not without clout, whichever way you read me.

Well, have a good holiday anyway.

You deserve it.

Going somewhere warm?

Oh, I thought I'd just take off and wander.

Oh, lucky you.

My God, I envy you your freedom.

Well, you've been jolly useful.

I shall follow your advice to the letter.

But, Oliver, I didn't give you any advice.

And that other business is all squared away,

I hear from Saul.

No loose ends, no messiness?

Chelsea.

George, bless you.

You've been a brick.

We're birds of a feather, George:

both patriots...

givers, not takers.

Trained to our services,

country.

We must pay the price.

You know, if Ann had been your agent instead of your wife,

you'd probably have run her pretty well.

( bangs roof )

( announcements over loudspeaker in background )

Oh, sir, oh, dear.

Hello, Mrs. Tremedda.

( clock chiming )

Breakfast?

No.

Walk.

A short walk would be nice.

Just nice?

I'd like a walk very much.

Can you wear Harry's boots?

I always used to be able to.

You can take his coat as well.

It's those logs, Mrs. Tremedda,

they must be damp or something.

Elm never did burn, dead or alive.

Saul Enderby still run the ship?

If you can call it running.

You used to say

they were the people who ruined England.

Did I?

Who were "they" in those days?

I forget.

Most of my family,

including Uncle Harry.

What did they do wrong?

Stayed the same, I suppose.

Missed the changes, wouldn't face them,

left the future up for grabs.

I don't know.

I don't know what I thought.

It was a hundred years ago.

I'm going away for a bit.

I didn't want to say anything on the telephone.

Abroad?

Just a job I have to do.

I don't want you going to Bywater Street

in my absence.

Is that why you came down?

To tell me that Bywater Street is out of bounds?

In a way.

Let me try it differently:

If Bywater Street had been in bounds,

would you have suggested that I went there?

Or... are you telling me

that Bywater Street is out of bounds for good?

Practicalities.

It's a practical question.

How long will you be away?

Weeks.

Longer, perhaps.

Where will you stay?

In a hotel.

Then... back to Bywater Street?

If it hasn't been blown up.

Is it your Black Grail?

"Black Grail."

Bill Haydon's phrase.

Is it?

Why won't you tell me anything anymore?

Do you really think

I told Bill Haydon anything about you?

Wasn't much he didn't know.

I'm all you've got, George.

I'm all there is; there isn't anything else.

I want to stop looking.

I want you to do the same.

Oh, for God's sake, let's pull down the shutters

and be a boring married couple.

I came to tell you that while I'm away...

Well, it's widely known, within the intelligence fraternity--

on all sides-- that you used to be dear to me.

So you and I are both at risk

while I'm away.

I don't want anyone taking hostages or revenge.

What are you trying to say?

I want you to stay here and lie low and not go to London.

I'm sending a couple of chaps

to watch over you.

I have to leave now.

The big one's Arthur

and the other's called... something else.

They'll be here this afternoon.

I'm afraid they'll haunt the place

and drive your Uncle Harry mad.

And afterwards, George?

Good-bye.

Thank Harry

for his things.

Is this your first visit to Bern, sir?

Yes, yes.

I'm afraid it is.

Please sign here, Mr. Barraclough.

( corrects pronunciation ): Barraclough.

Oh, excuse me.

Mr. Barraclough, of course.

Thank you.

( child speaking Swiss German )

ESTERHASE: Number 18,

half a mile on the right.

The Grigorievs have got the ground floor.

Who's above them?

Two old women-- university teachers.

Most of the Iron Curtain crowd live in Muri,

not here in Elfenau.

It's a commune-- they do everything

in groups.

They go for walks in groups.

Most likely they screw in groups as well.

But the Grigorievs are different.

Three months ago, they moved out of Muri

and rented this apartment on a personal basis.

3,500 a month, George.

He pays it personal to the landlord.

Cash?

Monthly, in 100 notes.

( talking quietly )

The police boys are worried about bombs.

They think the Palestinians

are going to blow the place sky high.

That's been good and bad for us, George.

If we get clumsy,

Grigoriev can tell himself we're local angels.

That don't go for the police.

You know what I mean?

The Swiss police, George--

You need all the protection you can get.

They're expensive,

but worth it.

One hundred meters on the right, George.

Look for a black Mercedes in the forecourt.

Other staff use the embassy carpool,

but not Grigoriev.

Grigoriev drives his own Mercedes.

When did he get it?

Three months ago, secondhand.

Same time as he moved out of Muri.

They're at home! Did you see them?

Bottom window right?

We go past again, okay?

Once more for luck.

No, Toby.

George!

No!

Was that their car?

Sure... the very one.

( chuckles )

They love it.

They polish it day and night.

Grigorieva got herself

a driving license two months ago.

And she's terrible!

But terrible like lousy!

You know what Pauli Skordeno says to me?

He says, "Toby, I need danger money

just to follow that woman."

Now, you ready, George?

Change here

for all stations east.

George, listen, okay?

Watchers imagine things.

Well, they got to, it's their job.

There's a girl

works in the Soviet Embassy visa section.

The boys call her Little Natasha.

Saturdays she comes to the embassy...

to work.

Couple of times, Grigoriev drives her home.

We took some pictures... not bad.

Well, maybe the boys want it that way

just because of Grigorieva.

Well, they like the guy, George.

Well, you know how watchers are.

It's love or hate all the time.

They like him.

What do you make of Grigoriev?

What is he?

A trained hood Grigoriev isn't, George.

No trade craft.

He's actually a complete catastrophe.

But he's not straight either.

He's half-breed.

So which way

will he jump when we hit him?

Burning, George.

That's always a hazard, you know what I mean?

I mean, some guys get heroic

and want to die for their countries suddenly.

Other guys roll over and lie still

the moment you put an arm on them.

Burning...

that touches the stubbornness in certain people.

So, how conscious is he?

Of us?

George, he's Russian, okay?

A Russian thinks the butterflies are spying on him.

But he doesn't know we're here.

Definitely.

I want it lace curtains all the way.

If you're following him, ring the changes nonstop.

Better to lose him than have him flush you.

Yes, I understand, George.

Got enough transport?

Any more, I get embarrassed.

How did the rehearsal go?

Smooth as silk.

What time do you want me there?

11:00, earliest.

11:00 is already too early, George.

Grigoriev won't arrive until 12:00.

I'll be there at 11:00.

Good night.

Good night, George.

Good luck.

( phone rings quietly )

Hello.

I'm waiting for Mr. Jacobi.

I'll have a café crème, in a glass, please.

If it comes in a glass,

you must have schnapps with it.

A cup will do just as well.

Herr Jacobi!

Hans, how goes it, huh?

Schnapps?

Perfect.

The Grigorievs left the house

five minutes ago.

She's driving.

Most likely they die before they get here.

Did she drive last week?

Also the week before.

She insists.

George, that woman is a monster.

Why does he go to the bank now, when there's no one

to distract attention from him?

He has completely mistaken quiet for security.

Grigoriev likes the lunch hour, because nobody in Thun

wastes his lunch hour going to the bank.

Empty places, empty times.

He's so conspicuous, he's embarrassing.

( phone ringing )

Listen, it's going to be a nice day.

Believe me.

All you've got to do is sit back and enjoy the show.

You wrote the script, George.

It's your show.

WAITRESS: Herr Jacobi.

Ja?

Make that two, Hans, hmm?

( kisses quickly )

( waitress giggles )

Ciao.

Everyone in position.

Everyone happy.

( tires squeaking )

GRIGORIEVA: O, Grigoriev!

Bozhe moy!

Idiot!

( Grigorieva continues scolding loudly )

CASHIER: Good morning.

GRIGORIEV: Good morning-- 10,000 as usual, please.

( banking machine beeps, clatters )

( machine keeps clattering )

( camera whirs quietly )

( camera whirs again )

( speaking Swiss German )

Nicht verboten! Diplomat!

Wir haben Immunitaet!

Kapitalist!

Faschist!

ESTERHASE: Grigoriev drew his normal 10,000,

the same as last week,

the same as the week before.

We got it, George, the whole scene.

The boys are very happy, the girls, too.

I mean, George, they are fantastic, completely the best.

I never had so good.

( chuckles )

What do you think

of him?

You see Litzi Meinertzhagen

tell her off for parking,

photographing her all the time?

George, I love that girl.

( chuckling )

Where do the Grigorievs go from here?

Lunch at the station buffet, first class.

Grigoriev has a salad.

She has steak and chips, glass of beer and a slice of cake.

George, the guy will fold, believe me.

You never had a wife like that.

No, I don't think I ever did.

You think he wants to be locked up in a two-room flat in Moscow

with that bitch for the rest of his life?

( chuckles )

Don't worry.

( grunts softly )

( grunts softly )

( bike wheels crunching on gravel )

( grunts )

Ooh!

GRIGORIEV: Greetings, Alexandra Borisovna.

Greetings, Uncle Anton.

Behave yourself!

You should buy yourself brown bicycle clips.

Repeat to me, please,

your full name with patronymic.

My name is Tatiana, and I come from the moon.

Uh, two weeks ago, you requested

a copy of "Torrents of Spring" by Soviet writer Turgenev.

Have you read this work or not?

Mother Felicity was reading it to me,

but she has a sore throat.

And you have reached what page of this work, please?

I lied to you.

She stopped reading it to me as a punishment

for throwing my food on the floor.

Page...?

Four thousand and eight.

Where do you come from,

Uncle Anton, please?

( louder ): Pay attention to me while I make a statement.

Until you tell me...

my real uncle...

I refuse to answer

any more of your questions.

Who... gives you the money to pay for my detention here?

To whom do you pass my answers,

which you so meticulously write down?

Repeat to me, please, your full name with patronymic.

Alexandra Borisovna Ostrakova.

How do you feel this week, Sasha?

Thank you, Uncle Anton,

I have been feeling much better this week.

The doctor says my crisis is already far behind me.

Have you received

by any means of post or telephone, word of mouth

any communication from outside persons?

Why do you never make love to me, Uncle Anton?

You can, you know.

( bell rings outside )

( door opens )

Uncle Anton and I are engaged to be married, Mother Felicity.

Well, good-bye, Sasha.

Until next week, eh?

Page 4,008, eh?

You think you're crazy?

( screams )

( screams again )

( screaming )

( gasps )

Mr. Barraclough.

Sir, the telephone, I'm sorry.

A Mr. Anslem.

Please, sir.

Barraclough.

The Geneva bureau has just informed us

that the managing director is on his way to Bern

at this very moment.

With his wife?

Unfortunately, Madame is obliged

to make an excursion with the children.

If you could meet me in the office, Mr. Barraclough?

I'll be with you in a minute.

I'm a good Swiss, Franz.

Business comes first.

I'll put it with your key, sir.

Shall I call a taxi?

No, thank you, I'll walk.

Yes, sir.

( bells tolling in distance )

Grigoriev left the embassy

five minutes ago on his own,

wearing his hat and coat.

He's heading for the town on foot.

What do you say?

Where's his wife?

Picking mushrooms with the kids

in the Elfenau woods.

Who's on him?

Skordeno and De Silsky on foot,

back-up car behind, two more ahead.

Do we go, George, or don't we?

Where's he making for?

Town! What do I know?

Maybe he goes to see Natasha.

We got him alone, George.

It's now or never!

Who's on the house?

Two girls, plus Karli Matt on a bicycle.

( eagerly ): The green light, George?

George, we're speaking of seconds here!

And on the wife?

Pete Eggli with two reliefs.

( bells continue tolling )

( stamps foot )

The green light.

Let's go.

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