All language subtitles for Shining.Through.1992.BluRay.jirienazka

- D'you have any water?
- Sure. Can we have some water?

Watch your step.

Charles Goodwin, Linda Voss.

- Pleasure to meet you.
- Nice to meet you.

- Where shall I sit?
- Here will be fine.

There you go. There's some water.
If you need anything else,
I'll get it for you.

I'm not really sure
I'll be able to do this.

Just relax and sit opposite me
and answer my questions.

- I've never done this before.
- It'll be easy, I promise.

- How are you?
- Fine.

Can we get a sound check?

Can we just have a few words -
just for the sound man?

- What should I say?
- Say anything.

I've always had such a big mouth.
Now I don't know what to say.

A little more, please?

To tell you the truth,
I don't know if I should be doing this.

Everyone told me that I should. They said
"It's the BBC and they'll do it right?

- We will do it right, I promise.
- That's fine!

Just relax. Are we ready?

- This is a BBC production. Interview...
- You wanted the scrapbook?

We'll do it later.
We'll have film clips and photographs.

- I see.
- If we could just finish getting the slate.

- Sorry.
- "Hitler's Germany..?

- What film clips?
- You'll see when it's finished. I promise.

- OK?
- Sorry.

"Hitler's Germany,
Part 5: Women in the War? Mark.

So just relax.
You've got all the time in the world.

- Do I start?
- Tell me about the war.

When did you first become interested in it?

The movies.

There they are.

War movies. Anything set in Germany.

It didn't matter if it was
the First World War or the Second.

I especially loved anything set in Berlin.

They're over the border!

From the time I was a child, my grandmother
and my father told me stories

about their beloved city.

- You spoke German at home?
- To my mother, I spoke English.

She was Irish. Born in Brooklyn.

To my father, I spoke German,

but he warned me
to keep this language a secret

because outside of our neighbourhood
in Queens, New York,

if people heard me speak German, they
would either think I was a Nazi sympathiser,

or they would know I was a Jew.

".. wird es von Tag zu Tag schlimmer?

"Hitlers neuste Verordnung besagt,
dass Juden keine Deutschen mehr sind

- und alle einen gelben Stern...�.
- In English, please.

For us poor Irish trash. Thank you.

"We are no longer
allowed to use a public toilet,

nor can Hannah, Sofi or I
go to a beauty parlour

because Hitler says
the hair of a Jew is infectious?

"We hear rumours everywhere

that Jews are being
rounded up and sent away?

"We don't know where?

"We have been invited by friends

to hide with them somewhere in Berlin?

I guess it was then that the fantasy began.

I dreamed of parachuting
into Germany and rescuing them -

my father's two sisters, Hannah and Liesel,
and Hannah's daughter Sofi,

who played the flute
and was just a year younger than I.

I dreamed of seeing Sofi
on the concert stage in New York City,

playing her flute, just for me.

The doomed city of Warsaw,
pounded by Hitler's guns...

So you contacted the War Department
about becoming a spy.

I wouldn't have known
who to contact about becoming a spy.

In 1940, when all of Europe
was struggling against Hitler,

I was just a young girl
struggling to get out of Queens.

I remember how intimidating the city was.

And I remember the first sight
of the man who would change my life.

This is not our war!

It's not our problem!

If any blood is gonna be shed
keeping Hitler out of England,

let it be English blood, not American!

Because it's not our war! It's not our problem!

And anyone who says
America should get involved in this war

is a Jew-loving commie,

Franklin Delano Rosenberg included!

- Why don't you go home?
- Why don't you go home?

We got another one here!

I am sure your typing skills are superior,
Miss Voss, but

a degree from Queens Clerical College
is a bit beneath our standards.

Our legal secretaries
come directly from Vassar.

I'm sure you understand.

Oh, I understand.

So unless you have something to add to
change my mind, I'm afraid I really couldn't...

Lower your standards?
Listen, I wouldn't want you to.

You might have to work with someone
who's had to get her hands dirty.

And I'm sure that would be uncomfortable
for you and the girls from Vassar.

I went to Vassar, by the way.

My uncle's car broke down at the front gate.
I had to pick him up.

Place looked like a real shithole to me.
Thank you very much.

Es tut mir so Leid. Es tut mir so Leid.

Hab keine Sorge, hab keine Sorge.
Es ist nur Wasser.

Ich darf meinen Posten hier nicht verlieren.
Ich habe zwei Kinder...

Miss Voss.

You failed to mention
that you speak a second language.

Since all demands for payment have gone
unanswered, like the billing in September,...

.. die Rechnung
vom September dieses Jahres,...

- we have no choice...
- haben wir keine andere Wahl,...

but to impound the shipment
of cement wagons...

als alle Zementlaster zu beschlagnahmen,...

- until proper reparations are made.
- bis die Reparationskosten bezahlt sind.

Laster is truck. I said wagon.

You said cement wagon. Laster is correct.

You're very certain of yourself,

which is good. You'll have to be. Bitte.

We're trying to disentangle certain
companies from their affairs in Germany.

One of our senior partners has a tin ear for
languages, which leaves him handicapped.

Graduated cum laude from Harvard,
but flunked out of Berlitz.

He also has a lousy disposition

and runs through secretaries
like a bowling ball through tenpins.

Incidentally, we call him the pallbearer

because he rarely cracks a smile.

- Come in.
- He also dislikes women who wear hats.

Hi.

I saw you on the street this morning,
with that speaker?

Yeah...

What did you say to him?

I just suggested he might be more
comfortable speaking somewhere else.

You were great.

Reminded me of Jimmy Stewart
in The Mortal Storm.

Did you ever see it?

No.

It's a great film.

What's with the blackout?
You expecting Hitler to bomb us tonight?

Sometimes I think better in the dark.

Ed Leland, Linda Voss.

90 words a minute, bilingual dictation,
works a Mimeograph,

and speaks German with
the accent of a Berlin butcher's wife.

- How's that for a last-minute save?
- Berlin butcher's wife?

Taught by her grandmother,
who's from Berlin.

But she wasn't married to a butcher.
My grandfather owned a button factory.

Till it burned down.

Your... your grandmother,
did she insist you speak...

German? She doesn't speak English.

She's... She's lived here for...

My sixth-grade teacher used to do that.

- Beg your pardon?
- You know, start a question and not finish it.

Like "The capital of Indiana is...?"

She's been in this country for 18 years.

So my question is, if she's lived here
for 18 years, why doesn't she speak...

English.

She prefers German.

- Does she prefer Germany?
- She's Jewish.

- You're Jewish?
- Half.

Is that a problem in this company?

No, no! It just means we're half-sure
you're not a Nazi spy.

He must like you, you make him laugh.

She'll be fine.
Could you stand up and turn around, please?

- Why should I do that?
- Because you want the job.

And I asked you to. It's a test I like to give.

Well, I'll take it sitting down.

What I was gonna ask you to do
is stand up, turn around,

close your eyes and tell me
what you see here. It's an observation test.

Now, do you really have a problem with that?

Pictures of sailboats and polo ponies,
fancy books and diplomas,

stuffed fish on the wall,
calendar set to the wrong date,

bookcases that need dusting,
carpets that need cleaning.

And two Harvard guys who are
surprised a girl who needs a job

won't be treated like a slave.

Are you always like this?

Forgot to tell you, my other half's Irish.

Lethal combination.

It didn't take me long to sense there was
more to Ed Leland than met the eye.

In February of 1940 one of the switchboard
girls accidentally tapped into his private line

and heard a voice that she swore
was Franklin Delano Roosevelt's.

In March, Jimmy in the mailroom caught
sight of a sealed document on Ed's desk,

- addressed to J Edgar Hoover.
- Hi, Jimmy.

In April, Ed's staff started interviewing
recently arrived German refugees

to get details about life in Hitler's Germany.

And by fall of that year, Ed Leland's
whereabouts were completely unpredictable.

He'd vanish for weeks at a time,

returning as abruptly as he'd left,

to dictate letters that made no sense at all.

Naturally, it set a girl's mind to wondering.

Please report that my wife Sunflower
and I and her new dog Rover

just returned from the seashore,

where we saw a flock of birds - sea birds.

A flock of 14 sea birds diving for fish.

Excuse me, are those pelicans?

You said they were diving.

I've asked you not to interrupt me.

Sorry, Mr. Leland,
but the German language is very specific.

You wouldn't say seabirds,
you would say pelicans.

Unless this is a code, in which case you
should just tell me so I'd stop bothering you.

Why would you say something like that?

No, I'm curious. Why?

Well, your wife's name is not Sunflower.

You don't even have a wife.

I mean, not one that I know of anyway.

Therefore you assume that this is all a code.

I don't have to turn around

to see that your overnight bag
is full of woollen sweaters and heavy socks.

Not exactly the kind of thing
you take to the seashore.

At least not a vacation-type seashore.

More like the English Channel, I'd say.

- Anything else?
- No.

- OK. Where were we...?
- Except that the code is a dead giveaway.

I mean, 14 birds diving for fish!
It's obviously a fleet of 14 submarines.

You're gonna get caught with a code like this.
The Germans aren't stupid, Mr. Leland.

My God, they do it better in movies. Did you
see Espionage Agent with Brenda Marshall?

No.

When she talked about submarines,
she talked about her "rose garden".

- Her rose garden?
- Yeah. So there'd be no connection.

And for airplanes,
she talked about figs and dates.

Figs and dates?

Figs were Fokkers and dates...

I can't remember what dates were.

Well, I guess I'd better go to the movies
to see how they do this.

My wife, Susan, who I call Sunflower.

This was taken a year before
I put her in a sanitarium in Switzerland -

a mental institution, which I visit often,
and which I'm afraid that she'll never leave.

D'you understand why it's easier for me to let
people think that I have never been married?

I'm sorry.

- God, I feel so stupid.
- No, it's... it's all right.

I feel so stupid that

I don't understand why
I can't make carbon copies of your letters.

Or why I have to turn in my steno pad
for a new one each time I've finished.

Or why I type endless letters,
but never envelopes,

so that I don't know where they're going to.

Last time I was in Switzerland,
I asked a psychiatrist the same thing:

"Why is it that I don't trust anybody?"

He thinks it has something
to do with my upbringing.

You're a spy, Mr. Leland.

And you've seen
too many movies, Miss Voss.

Enough to know a spy when I see one.

And about this photo?

The woman's name is Jennifer Krimm.

A model you were never married to,
but only dated.

Before you met Kiki Avondale, that is -

a Vassar graduate you were engaged to
for six months before you got cold feet.

This is outrageous. This is... This is...

I don't have to listen to this any more.
This is simply and totally...

How do you know all these things?

I might be a better spy than you are.

By late October of '41

London was reeling under a hailstorm
of German bombs called the Blitz,

and life in America was energised
with the knowledge of what was inevitable.

Young men were disappearing late at night
and signing up for the draft.

Glenn Miller was pumping out dance music
while there was still time to dance.

And Ed Leland had cast
his eyes in my direction.

For us, like the war,
it was just a matter of time.

- K�rbis.
- Der K�r...

I can't! I can't speak German.
I can't get the accent thing.

- At least I made you laugh.
- Yes, you do do that.

- Is that a hard thing to do, make you laugh?
- Well, serious times, Linda.

All the more reason.

Charlie Chaplin says
"A day without laughter is a day wasted?

You believe that?

Yeah. I try to laugh once a day,

just in case.

D'you like Charlie Chaplin?

To be quite honest, I've never seen him.

- You're kidding!
- No.

- Well, what are you doing tonight?
- Tonight?

Tonight I have tickets for the opera.

- Really?
- Yeah.

- I've never been to the opera.
- Oh?

- What's it like?
- Well, it's not for everybody. It's...

See, that's the thing about Chaplin. He is.

- You really like Chaplin?
- Mr. Leland...

Why don't you call me Ed?

Ed.

.. G�terbahnhof und ein Hauptbahnhof.

There are six railroad goods yards
and three main-line stations.

Einen Riesenschornstein.

Right near a large...

- How d'you say Schornstein?
- Linda?

Me? I don't speak German.

Ja. Church steeple.

Can we take a break for a moment?

Schornstein is smokestack,
not church steeple. Translator's been lying.

Linda, the man has been working
as a translator for years.

Yeah. Well, he started out
by making little mistakes.

And when nobody noticed,
the mistakes started getting bigger.

It does not make him a liar...

He tripled the number of railroad lines
coming into the city!

One sentence involving a munitions plant...
He left that one out altogether.

What is he? A double agent?

Right here in this office?

- What'll you do to him?
- Stop using him as a translator?

- How'd you know to stay quiet?
- The Fighting 69th.

- Brenda Marshall and Cary Grant.
- I see.

They cut out his tongue.

By day we worked together.
By night we were lovers.

Secret lovers.

Until a Sunday morning in December when
we lay listening to a symphony on the radio.

I said I'd never been to a concert
and would love to go with him someday.

We interrupt to bring you a news bulletin.

The Japanese have attacked Pearl Harbor by
air, President Roosevelt has just announced.

The air raid is still on. The anti-aircraft fire
can be heard in a steady drone

as the attacking planes come in.

We will continue to receive reports
which will tell the story of what is to happen

in the months that are to come.

For me,
there would be no symphonies with Ed.

Just the sound of drums,
as America went to war.

Goodbye, dear I'll be back in a year

Cos I'm in the army now

They took my number out of a hat

And there's nothing a guy
can do about that...

What Pearl Harbor also did was
bring Ed Leland's uniform and true identity

out of the closet:

that of a full-ranking military colonel
working for the OSS in Washington.

His job: to co-ordinate information
coming from behind enemy lines.

- So you accompanied him to Washington?
- To the Washington airport.

But our journey together ended there.

- I want you to set up an office for Andy.
- It came as a complete surprise to me.

Everything he said that night
came as a complete surprise.

I'm continuing on.

Continuing on?

To where?

I don't know.

I can't say.

What does that mean?

It means things change.

It's not the right time for us.

I don't want you to be waiting.

I don't wanna be,

either of us, worrying.

But, Ed, what's a war for

if not to hold on to what we love?

Colonel!

Hey, Colonel!

Goodbye.

He said he'd be in touch with me,
but he never was.

And no one ever knew I loved him.

While America went to war,
Ed disappeared in Europe.

And I disappeared into the
Information Center of the War Department,

a basement where
hundreds of women toiled,

sorting, filing and distributing
information about Germany.

Linda. �Trooper?

And where I secretly searched
for clues about Ed Leland.

Clues and words such as "Trooper",
which I found out was Ed's code name,

and "Camp Brady",
which meant "behind enemy lines".

I knew he was travelling,
and into dangerous places.

I also knew I didn't wanna care.

I'll be seeing you

In all the old familiar places...

Six months into the war,
Europe still belonged to Hitler and Mussolini.

American boys were being lost
by the thousands on Pacific islands

with names like Corregidor and Bataan.

And the man named Ed Leland
had disappeared from the face of the earth.

When spring came to Washington
he was all I thought about

because I believed that wherever he was

the sheer force of my love for him
would keep him safe, keep him alive.

Excuse me, I noticed you looking a bit lonely.
Would you like to dance?

- No, thanks.
- You sure?

I will.

In everything that's light and gay

I'll always think of you that way

I'll find you in the morning sun

And when the night is new

I'll be looking at the moon

But I'll be seeing you

And I'll be seeing you

In every lovely summer's day

In everything that's light and gay

I'll always think of you that way

I'll find you in the morning sun

And when the night is new

I'll be looking at the moon

But I'll be seeing you

- At ease, gentlemen. Good evening.
- Sir.

Hello, Linda.

Hello, Ed. What brings you to town?

I had to come in for something.
I'm gonna be here for a while.

That's great.

Would you like to dance?

Nah. You're busy.

Come on.

I don't wanna dance.

Would you all excuse us
for a couple of minutes?

Yes, sir.

We'll be over there, OK?

How you been?

Not great.

No?

No.

- When did you start smoking?
- I don't know.

Kind of a silly thing to do, isn't it?

I'm a silly girl, Ed.

I think you're living proof of that.

Sorry to hear you're in the basement.
It wouldn't have happened if I was here.

I spoke with Andy,
and he'll keep his eyes out for a better job.

I told him I'd quit if he doesn't.

You can work for me while I'm here.
I can always use a good secretary.

This is all so civilized, Edward.

That's what you like, isn't it?
Civilized people.

Polite ladies with pedigrees
who look good at the opera,

who never make you laugh too hard

and never make you feel too much.

I've had a lot of time to think about this,
and don't tell me it's the war

when I've waited months to hear if you're
dead or alive, and you waltz into a nightclub.

- Linda, I came in last night. I was gonna call.
- Go to hell!

Careful.
You might have to admit that you know me.

- Linda, it is the war.
- You're so noble, Ed.

Did I promise you something?
If I did, I'd like to know.

Excuse me,
I thought the lady might like to dance.

The lady is busy.

I'd love to dance.

I'll always think of you that way

I'll find you in...

- I'm cutting in.
- Don't let him.

Excuse me, but the young lady doesn't...

Don't try it! I'll leave here
with your Adam's apple in my pocket.

What do you want from me?

I want you to stop feeling sorry for yourself.

No, you want me to stop feeling.

Like you.

Good night, sweetheart

All my prayers are for you

Good night, sweetheart

I'll be watching o'er you...

You did love me, didn't you?

I couldn't have been wrong.

You weren't.

Well, then how do you stop?

Cos I want to.

So I'll say

Good night, sweetheart

Sleep will banish sorrow

Good night, sweetheart

Till we meet tomorrow

Dreams enfold you

In my dreams I'll hold you

Good night, sweetheart

Good night

His name was Albert Eckert.
You know his file by the code name "Zipper".

A society dress designer, popular with the
wives of high-ranking SS officials in Berlin.

That is until last Wednesday at 1400 hours
when he was last seen

by our senior operative, Sunflower,
buying roses at a marketplace.

This photo was taken one hour later,
at 1500 hours.

Maybe somebody
didn't like his latest dress design!

That man put his life on the line,

which is more than anybody
in this room is about to do.

- You're looking to replace him?
- Immediately, but it won't be easy.

His access to information was his
close relationship to Hedda Drescher,

wife of Horst Drescher,
a social-climbing young Nazi

who ingratiates himself to his superiors by
hosting elegant parties in his beautiful home.

A home which was appropriated from
one of the finest Jewish families in Berlin.

The simple genius of Eckert's method
was to bring Hedda a new gown

for each of these social occasions
and help her get dressed in the study,

where he was allowed to linger
for a glass of port when the party began.

At which time, he'd lock the door
and microfilm certain documents

that Drescher was in the habit of bringing
back from the War Office - like this.

And this.

And this.

Documents which lead us to believe

that somewhere in Germany scientists
are developing a bomb that can fly by itself.

So I think you all can see the urgency
of the situation. Lights, please.

We need someone to get back
into Drescher's study, and fast,

find out where this work is being done
and stop it, before it goes any further.

Any suggestions?

What about that cabinet maker, Meyerhoff?
The guy from Leipzig?

- If you wanna get into the study...
- Makes sense.

They'd let him pull apart
their secret cabinets?!

What about Eric Erdmann, the language
professor? He came from Munich.

They were both born in Germany,
so they'll be instant best friends?

- Linda.
- It took Eckert years to gain their confidence.

You think somebody can just move in
and be given run of the house?

She's right.

That is what you need, though -
someone who can move in and live there.

Someone with a low-class Berlin accent
who could work as a domestic.

Someone with the accent of
a Berlin butcher's wife.

Let's break for dinner.

I know the codes, the network, I know the
whole operation! I could pass for a Berliner!

Linda.

Because you are a secretary, not a spy.

- Because I'm a secretary?!
- You're not suited to it. You have no training.

- I'm not suited?! You can't speak German!
- You can't hold your tongue.

I saw it the first time I met you.
Everything just spills out of your mouth.

- It makes you dangerous.
- It's more my war than yours.

- That is a ridiculous thing to say.
- I'm a Jew!

- Hear what Hitler does to Jews? Half-Jews?
- Of course. I have relatives still hiding there.

- I doubt it.
- That they're hiding?!

- That you know what's happening.
- Meaning?

Meaning I won't let you commit suicide.

- I will quit if you don't let me go.
- I'll miss you.

I will, goddammit!

I quit!

- Linda.
- Ed, I want you to taste my strudel:

the way my grandmother
taught me to make it.

She taught me to cook German-style,
the way my grandfather likes it.

And I could cook for 50 if I had to.
Five courses - the way they do it in Berlin.

On nights when they didn't have people over,
I could bring tea and strudel

up to the Dreschers' study
and put a little schnapps in the tea

so that Horst and Hedda
would get tired and could retire early,

and I could be left alone
in the study to clean up.

This is not about you and me, goddammit.
I wanna do something important with my life.

Here, taste!

Taste it!

You know what you're
getting yourself into, Linda?

Yeah. The war.

He agreed to send me - for two weeks only-

insisting that whether I succeeded or not,
I'd come out of Berlin in exactly 14 days.

Untrained in survival skills, I was given
a quick course in using a microfilm camera,

and a purse that made up in function
for what it lacked in fashion.

Beyond that, it was all guts.

Accompanying me as far as Switzerland,

Ed would turn me over
to the legendary Sunflower,

a German working for the Americans, who
would take me on my final journey into Berlin.

I'll meet you in two weeks.

Right on this platform, two weeks from today.

- Do I look all right?
- You look perfect.

This is it.

Still wanna go through with it?

- Where is he?
- Right in front of you.

- There?
- Not there.

There.

Take care of yourself, Linda.

See you in two weeks.

Eyes down, say nothing.
And try not to look like a spy.

- Are you mute?
- You said not to speak.

- In German, please.
- You spoke in English.

Dear God, your accent.

What's wrong with it?

Excuse me?

I guess I couldn't blame him.

Might I interrupt? Are you aware
that you're speaking in German?

Sorry.

I remember it in German.

Could you remember it in English, please?

Sure.

- What's wrong with my accent?
- It's from the gutter.

But it's supposed to be. I'm a cook.

But not one that Drescher would accept.

Don't you know
he's a man of great pretensions?

With that vulgar sound,
he won't let you in at the door.

My God, what have they sent me?

I guess I couldn't blame him.

Konrad Friedrichs, known as Sunflower,
had become a spy, by my calculations,

around the year I was born.

A veteran of two wars,
he was now partnered with me,

whose only qualification,
as he was quick to point out,

was that I was born to some
low-class individuals from Berlin.

It was my hope that some of
these individuals were still in safe hiding,

that my Jewish relatives had escaped
Hitler's dreaded storm troopers,

and were somehow, somewhere,

still alive.

Your first sight of Berlin. Any impressions?

Pitch darkness - I was surrounded by it.

The city was blacked out, prepared for
the night raids which hadn't yet begun.

Leave the luggage.

Not yours. Follow me.

Toilet, washbasin.

You'll stay in here until I decide what to do.

Come!

Come.

Uncle Putzi!

I'm sorry I frightened you.
No one answered the door.

Herr Friedrichs is not at home.

Well, he's wrong about your accent.

It's charming.

Come. Come.

He said if your cooking was like your accent,
it was strictly for the beer halls.

So, I'm taking a week off work to teach you
some grammar and high German cuisine.

And believe me, you're going to need it.

We're putting you
into Drescher's house in a week

to cook for a party
which is most important to him.

His temper is legendary
when things go wrong.

- My uncle didn't tell you I was coming?
- I just arrived last night, Fr�ulein.

I'm Margrete von Eberstien

of the Klaus von Eberstiens.

My father, the baron,
is an actual friend of Hitler.

Der F�hrer's been to my house!

To tell you the truth, it's my mother he likes.
She's a famous concert pianist.

And der F�hrer, like Horst Drescher,
is a man of great pretensions.

Would you like to meet der F�hrer, Lina?

Ed Leland says to tell you hello.

Margrete von Eberstien
was no one I was prepared for.

And now

you must tell me all about Clark Gable.

Is he really married to Vivien Leigh?

But we were sisters from the start.

Our first job was to contact
my courier, a fishmonger,

who would export any documents,
microfilm or written messages

inside cartons of frozen fish to Norway.

- That's him?
- Ja.

How does it work? I just go over?

Again, use the signal
so he'll know who you are.

Pass a message for practice.

- What message?
- Anything you like.

For practice, I wrote a message
indicating I was looking for my relatives

Hannah, Liesel and Sofi Weiss.

- What is that?
- My family.

We heard they're hiding in Berlin.

You're Jewish?!

Half.

Mein Gott, you've got guts.

My father calls it chutzpah.

- What is this?
- American spy stuff.

There was a password.

- Ready?
- Yeah.

Something about fish.

Codfish.

Is fresh cod in season?

Is fresh cod in season?

Is fresh cod in season?

Is cod in fresh s-season?

We are closed.

I meant is fresh cod in season?

- Alle Mann aussteigen aus dem Wagen.
- Scheisswetter, Mensch!

Where the hell is he? Kurt! Did you fall in?

Take it easy. What's the hurry?

- Gurke?
- He doesn't like to be kept waiting.

Just tell him Kurt was on the toilet.

Heil Hitler.

Heil Hitler.

Papers?

You got this at the Tauschmarkt?

- Yes.
- My wife did, too.

What did you pay for it?

40 marks.

You overpaid.

Good for hiding money.

- Come! It's getting late.
- Let her be!

- The Commandant is waiting.
- Hurry!

- Heil Hitler.
- Heil Hitler.

- I thought they got you.
- The damn purse flew open!

You're such a dope!

You're another!

My friendship with Margrete von Eberstien

was the closest that I'd ever known.

Did you wish to stop?

Something happened to her?

She was killed?

- We can stop for a bit.
- No.

It's important to tell you that
she introduced me to her mother.

- Margrete, what if she suspects something?
- Nonsense! She'll suspect nothing.

All she thinks about is herself.

- But what if she asks me...
- What if? You'll never see this woman again.

Tomorrow you are going to the home of a
barbarian. You'll never see my mother again.

And you?

Will I see you again?

Come. Meet Hitler's favorite piano player.

You'll say I'm your cook?

I want to see her kiss a Jew.

Well! If it isn't my pretty girl!

How nice to see you.

- Where have you been for so long?
- Oh, Mother.

This is my friend from university.
Lina von Klopper.

Von Klopper?

Her father is the Baron von Klopper of Pluhn.
You know, the big castle of Pluhn?

That von Klopper.
How nice to meet you, my dear.

A week after my arrival,
Horst Drescher was to give a dinner party

that his chef would be unable to attend.

With just hours left before the party,

Herr Drescher would forego
the required security checks

into the girl sent to replace him.

The idea being that I would
so impress him with my cooking skills

that he'd decide he couldn't live without me.

No! That's enough basting. These
have to go in the oven now. Oh, my God.

You don't need to do the stock any more.

Help her with those doves
in the oven. Please.

Let me taste this soup.

Excuse me!

May I ask you where the first course is?
We have been seated for 15 minutes.

I'm sorry, Herr Drescher.
The soup is ready now.

It's supposed to be cold cucumber soup.

We serve it hot in D�sseldorf.

The doves aren't cooked yet?

The doves, we serve cold.

It's like they knew we were coming.
Everything was here.

Even toys for the children.

There were linens and towels,
and can you believe the initials were HD?

Like ours! It was perfect!

Yes, it was perfect.
And so is the food tonight.

For my honored guest,
Herr General Franze-Otto Dietrich,

a specialty from D�sseldorf:

hot cucumber soup.

So, how are the children
enjoying Potsdam, Herr Dietrich?

Not much, I'm afraid.
They miss their friends in Munich.

- Potsdam is so far away.
- You should have moved into Berlin.

There's a Hitler Youth Corps in Potsdam.
They will make friends.

They will.

We saw you on the news films
at Berchtesgaden.

Hitler was looking well.

- I'm so sorry, Herr Dietrich.
- Forgive me, mein Herr.

- No matter, no matter.
- I'm sure it will come out.

The colour suits me.

It's all right.

A house is available in my neighbourhood.
Perfect for you and the children.

- Schools are better in Berlin.
- So I believe.

My apologies. She just came today.

Really? Where from?

- D�sseldorf.
- She has been through a security check?

Of course, Herr Dietrich. With you here, I can
assure you no one would come in this house.

- Just asking.
- Highly recommended.

Good.

Delicious.

Makes me feel like a wolf.

Sie sind die d�mmste K�chin,
die jemals in diesem Haus hier gearbeitet hat.

Sie haben mich
vor meinen besten G�sten blamiert.

Ich werde daf�r sorgen,
dass Sie keine Arbeit mehr bekommen.

Niemals. Und jetzt raus hier!

What are you doing out here?

Don't you know it's dangerous?

Wait.

Wait. It's me.

The soup?

- He dismissed you?
- Yes.

The doves were raw.

I had no time. I arrived at six.

And you'll be home by ten. Can I drop you?

Yes.

Come.

So, where to?

Just straight on this street.

You're a foreigner.

Fresh from D�sseldorf. Yes?

Yes.

You're not really a cook, are you?

The agencies have done that to me as well.

Sent me two nannies
who knew nothing about children.

Not that mine are easy.

Their mother died two years ago.
They were naturally upset.

- How many?
- Two.

That's not so many.

My father took care of eight.

With my help, of course.

I was the oldest.

You have an education?

Apparently not enough to cook doves.

He ate the whole thing to prove it was edible.

You should have seen him.

Pompous little ass,

eating a raw bird.

You know, it's hard to find suitable girls

who've already been through
a complete Gestapo check.

I hate to let one get away.

I vanished that night without a trace,

unable to let anyone know what had
happened, or why I'd been whisked away.

But having spotted the documents
in Franze Dietrich's briefcase,

I had to break my promise
to Ed Leland and stay.

Isolated in a small town outside the city,

I was cut off from all contact now,

biding my time as a humble
German domestic from D�sseldorf

in a privileged German world.

Look! Papi!

- Bye-bye.
- Come on.

As far as I was concerned,
it couldn't have been planned better.

In one quick jump, I'd landed in the upstairs
chambers of one of the Third Reich's elite.

A house where names like G�ering, Speer
and von Stauffenberg topped the guest list,

and where I had no doubt that information
critical to the German war effort was held.

But no matter how hard I searched,
I could find nothing -

not the briefcase, nor anything
even resembling an official document.

Whatever he brought home from the office
was being hidden,

and I had no idea where.

Look there! Dieter!

- Dieter!
- Dieter!

Be careful now.

Hi.

Franze! Franze, hallo.

Stayson! What a surprise!

Yes, what a surprise.

- Well, hello.
- Hello.

You know Miss Albrecht? Stayson von Neest.

You know Captain von Haefler
of the Foreign Office.

- Von Haefler, nice to meet you again.
- Of course!

You're the one who served the raw ducks.
I was at Drescher's.

- Your old employer wants you back.
- You can tell Drescher he's too late.

- No, it's her employer before that.
- From D�sseldorf?

No, Friedrichs of the Foreign Office.
The old gentleman.

He was all upset. He thought
Drescher had done away with her.

Said she'd been working with him for years.

What was his name?
From the Foreign Office?

Herr Konrad Friedrichs. The old gentleman.

.. where the happy citizens of Berlin

are treated to the sight of

der F�hrer

taking time out for the Heroes' Day Parade.

Where, in a ceremony

at the Sports Palace,

he will watch new recruits

- being inducted...
- Stop the film!

Stop the film!

Ed, Will, we got it!
His name is Franze-Otto Dietrich.

Right up there in the Wehrmacht.
Spent last Christmas with Hitler.

Look, they are definitely together.
She's got her hand on him.

- When was this film taken?
- They came out last week through Lisbon.

- But when were they taken?
- They're recent. Parade was two weeks ago.

- Contact Sunflower. Get me into Switzerland.
- What's the plan?

Get her the hell outta there.

Had you any idea they'd located you?

No. None.

Nor did I know that Franze Dietrich
had become suspicious of me.

I did sense, however,
that time was running out.

In mid-October a single British aircraft
made a daring night raid,

shattering the illusion
that Berlin was immune to harm.

Still empty-handed after five weeks,

I risked returning to the fishmonger
with a note requesting instructions,

and sending a signal homeward
that I was still alive.

But Berlin was changing now,

the night raid fuelling panic
that more bombs were soon to fall.

- All this way for a fish!
- You'll like the fish from Berlin, I promise.

- I hate fish!
- I wanted to go to the zoo.

- I know.
- You could buy a fish, but I won't eat it!

All right, all right. Give me your hands.

- I mean it! I'll throw it away!
- OK, I heard you. Careful.

Excuse me.

Can I help you?

- Is fresh cod in season?
- Barely.

I had given up on you.
I thought you didn't like our fish.

She loves your fish.
We were on the bus two hours to get here.

She'd rather come here than go to the zoo.

It's like this in all the stores today -
people stocking up, salting the fish.

Everyone's afraid.

Look! Eels!

Stay right here, OK?

You were looking for
something in particular?

Just something fresh.

I mean, last time I saw you -
you were looking for something in particular.

- You found them?
- It's not easy to find a few fish in a big sea.

They have amazing fight, though, these fish.

Twice the net swept over them,
twice they escaped.

With this kind of luck,
maybe they are still fresh.

There's a...

a kind of fish over here
that I think you might wanna take a look at.

There you are. 2.10.

No! No!

No! No!

Lina!

Enough! Out!

- Come on, kids. Let's go.
- Out!

- What is it?
- Go! Go!

- What happened?
- Was there a fight?

She fights over fish. She's in love with fish.

- What happened? Lina?
- Nothing. Nothing. I'm sorry.

Inside the fish was a note
that gave the address 99 Kinderstrasse,

where my relatives were hiding
in a basement on the outskirts of Berlin.

And suddenly it was no longer a fantasy.

An address had made them real.

Hannah, Liesel,
and my beautiful cousin Sofi,

who played the flute,
and whose photo I carried

and had now been forced into hiding
somewhere in the darkness nearby.

I wondered if she were in a bed, like I was,

or curled up on a cold cellar floor.

If she was alone and frightened,

or if she could sense that
the moment of our meeting was near.

In the morning,
after dropping the children at school,

I'd have just enough time
to make it back and forth to the city.

- Berlin?
- Ja.

Oblivious to any danger,
I was overwhelmed with excitement.

After a lifetime of dreaming this,

I was finally on my way.

Destination?

Was?

Was?

"Wounded war veteran - can't speak?

Ach so.

A letter from your sister in D�sseldorf saying
your father's dying, you should come home.

A ticket for a night train to D�sseldorf,
which you won't take.

I'll meet you at the train for Switzerland
and give you new ID.

- Can I...
- When you tell Dietrich you're leaving,

tell him you met a couple at the market -
a cook and chauffeur...

- He has a chauffeur.
- Not for long, he doesn't.

Ed, I'm not ready to go. Not tonight.

- I didn't hear you right, did I?
- I found my cousins.

- Your cousins?
- You found them?

- Somebody help me out here, please.
- There are no Jews left in this city.

Alexanderplatz. 99 Kinderstrasse.

- You've seen them?
- Not yet.

Linda, you can't help them.
There is nothing you can do.

No, but you can.
Papers, passports, tickets to Switzerland.

What the hell ya think I got, a printing press?!

Lina, Friedrichs was picked up yesterday
and questioned by Dietrich.

- By your boss!
- Franze?

- Yeah. Linda, we are on thin ice here.
- We are all on thin ice.

- Just one more day.
- To do what?

To give them hope.

To let them know that I'll try to help them.

I won't leave here without doing this.

This ticket, it's good for 24 hours.

So are my papers.
They expire tomorrow at six.

I'll wait till then, but not a minute longer.

If you find out they're alive and you come
back to where there are printing presses,

we may get them out.

But whether you find them or not, Linda,
1800 tomorrow night I want you on that train.

Thank you.

Six o'clock, Linda.

If you're not there,
I have to leave without you.

Sorry, Ed.

It's not your fault.
I should never have let you go.

I had to do this.

That's not what I mean.

I should never have let you go.

Come out, Linda.

Please.

I can't come out now.

Don't stand me up tomorrow night.

I know it was on a Friday
that Ed and I said goodbye

because the next day was Saturday,
and I had nowhere to leave the children.

- What do you want to see?
- I want to see every animal there.

- I want to see a lion.
- I want to see the bears.

- When do we get there?
- Alexanderplatz.

Here we go. Come on.

- I don't see it.
- It's the wrong place.

I thought we'd just walk a few blocks.

- What are we doing?
- This isn't the zoo.

Excuse me.

- We're looking for the zoo.
- Five blocks.

- 99 Kinderstrasse?
- It's the one on the corner.

This is scary.

What are we doing?

- Kids, wait here.
- Where are you going?

God.

Help! Lina!

Quick! Lina!

- Help! Lina!
- It's all right.

Lina! Help!

Quick! Help!

- Are you all right? Are you OK?
- We've got to go home.

In the cellar! I know a place to hide!

Look! The zoo!

Papi!

- Papi, are you all right? Did they bomb you?
- They bombed us!

- A whole building exploded!
- You should have seen it!

- You were in Berlin?!
- We went to the zoo.

- You should have asked me.
- I'm sorry.

Never leave Potsdam again
without asking, please.

Come.

If they come again,
we'll go down to your secret room, all right?

- Yes.
- In the cellar.

You said it was safe there.
You said nobody knew about it.

- Can we sleep down there?
- Yes. They won't bomb again.

- It was awful, Papi!
- I think some people were killed.

You're safe. That's the important thing.

Children!

Lina?

You weren't in your room.

I was afraid you might have left us.

Why would I?

Perhaps you'd learned enough.

That's what you are doing, isn't it?
For Herr Himmler and his friends.

For the Gestapo.

The Gestapo?!

Infiltrating my house to find out
if I am soft on the principles of the Reich?

If I can be drawn into confiding my secrets?

On my life, I am not Gestapo.

It's not right that such
a beautiful woman should labour.

I have no choice.

Do you have a dress for evening?

No.

Von Karajan is playing Wagner.

A celebration of our courage.

You will wear a dress of my wife's

and sit beside me tomorrow night.

Mein Gott, that's Olga Leiner.

Do you know her?

- Who?
- Olga Leiner. Look.

Yes. She's waving at you.

She must mistake me for someone.

Lina! Lina!

So nice to see a familiar face.
Seems like no one I know is left in the city.

Fr�ulein.

I'm Franze Dietrich, a great admirer.

- You know Miss Albrecht?
- Yes.

She went to university with my daughter.

You must come up to the apartment again
sometime, and bring your charming friend.

And if you see my pretty girl,

tell her to call me.

I'm sorry.

I couldn't get them in bed.
They wanted to wait for you.

- Thank you, Hilda. Good night.
- Good night.

- Good night.
- Good night.

I'll take them upstairs.

Herr Dietrich.

It's late, Lina.

Too late for talking.

Lina?

Go away! I was already called by the Gestapo.

They're coming here! Go to Margrete's.

Hide for the night, or you'll kill us all!

Hallo?

Ja.

My God, where are you?
They're combing the city for you.

Look out your front window.

Come up.

Come quickly.

- Are you all right?
- Yeah.

It's OK.

- You're blue.
- I'm cold.

Come. You don't know how worried I've been.

- Friedrichs called me.
- He turned me away.

He had no choice. They were watching him.

Here. What I want you to do is get out of
those clothes, run some hot bath water,

- take a bath while we think of what to do.
- Margrete...

- Maybe change your looks.
- Margrete!

- You need papers.
- Margrete, I got the information.

On microfilm.

The location of the factory.
It's in Peenem�nde.

Good.

Very good.

And where is the microfilm?

I hid it. I wanted to make sure you were alone.

- Where?
- Outside. The phone booth. The coin box.

- The one right here?
- Yeah.

Good. I'll get it.

Run a hot bath. Cut your hair.

There's scissors.

Lina? I pretended to make a call, so no one
would be suspicious of my being out there.

Oh God, forgive me!

I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

Forgive me.

They'll be here soon.
I'll make sure they take care of you.

What a bad way for us to end.

Why now?

Why didn't you turn me in before?

We've been watching Dietrich.

When you blundered into his house, we
thought we could use you to get information.

If he was loyal...

My cousins?

I'm sorry.

I work with the Reich.

And I confess, except for you,

I have no use for Jews.

T�r einschlagen! Haus umstellen!

In der K�che nachsehen.
Schnell, schnell!

Zwei in die K�che, zwei geradeaus.

Schnell! Wache halten!

- Schnell. Weitersuchen. Weitersuchen.
- Jawohl.

Her shoes and handbag.
She jumped from the balcony!

Search the courtyard! Find her!

Everybody out! She's slipped through!

Quickly! Out!

She's got to be in the building.

She wouldn't have lasted
this long on the streets.

Look at this.

How do we get into the basement?

I'm sorry. Easy, easy.

OK.

This is for the pain.

You have to forget about the pain.

I need you to do the talking for me, OK?

Put your arm on my shoulder.

OK? Let's go.

I can't go any further.
They'd recognize me before they do her.

Good luck.

Hi.

I'm dying.

Forget about dying.

You're not allowed to die.

I've never seen you look scared before.

I don't wanna lose you.

I wanna be with you.

Always.

Oh, God.

You wouldn't say that
unless you were sure I was gonna die.

I love you.

Swiss border! All passengers out!

Linda.

Swiss border!

All out for the security on the German side!

OK, let's go.

Stand aside! This woman is ill!

Stand back! Let this man pass!

What's wrong with the woman?

Give me your papers.

Give me your papers!

What is wrong with this woman!

The dates on these papers are no longer valid.

As an SS officer, you must be aware of this.

I demand an explanation.

I demand an explanation!

See what's wrong with his throat!

Halt!

Do something!

They're on the German side!

Help them!

They're on Swiss soil!

Schnell, bitte! Schnell!

It surprised no one
that Ed was too stubborn to die.

With one bullet that shattered his knee,
and another that punctured his lung,

he was conscious enough to hear news
reports of the bombing of Peenem�nde

just 14 days later.

So you did get the microfilm out?

Yes.

It was discovered clutched in my hand when
I was brought to the hospital in Switzerland.

I'd hidden it in my glove,

knowing that it would be removed
if I were examined by a doctor,

and overlooked if I were
searched by an enemy.

Very clever.

How did you know that?

Did you ever see a movie
called Victory at Dawn?

I should have known.

Those are my sons. Can I get them on TV?

Of course. We'd be delighted.

There's my husband.

Ed, come. Come here.

Help me.

Mr. Leland.

Thank you both very, very much.