Original subtitles

VICTOR: Once upon a time,

a secret room was discovered in the Kremlin

revealing that two agents have been missing for 25 years.

How's that grab you?

Sounds totally implausible.

- It's probably true. - Yeah.

Who the hell is this?

It's Vladimir.

Vladimir Zelenski.

What is the significance of Alf's Wingless Wonders?

Mmm... Good old Bobby. Good old Nobby.

(CHUCKLES)

We think these two young men are agents.

I don't wanna go back any more than you do.

But I'd rather go in than have them come and get me.

I don't want my family put at risk.

Look.

I don't even know where Eccles is.

How the hell are the KGB gonna find you?

GRISHINA: It's them.

I know it's them.

- (LAUGHTER) - (MUSIC PLAYING)

INSPECTOR: Right. Hold it there!

(THEME MUSIC PLAYING)

(SNORING)

(FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING)

(SNORING CONTINUES)

(DOOR UNLOCKING)

Wakey, wakey. Rise and shine.

Come on, Boris.

Out of your bed, Ivan.

Party's over, comrades.

My God! What happened here?

Thought I was dreaming.

- (BELCHES) - (GROANS)

GRISHINA: Identification is positive.

They are Zelenski and Rublev filmed here in 1966.

And there is no records of these agents

ever returning to the Soviet Union.

Then, what the goddamn hell is going on here, Major?

The KGB are supposed to inform us of any

covert operation in the UK.

We knew nothing about this either.

That's the whole point.

It seems to have been a completely unauthorised operation.

Is there any significance in these banners?

VICTOR: Uh...

Charlton. Peters. Moore.

All names of the England team?

Uh, yes, I've checked.

Thought you might have.

The question we have to answer is,

are these two agents still here?

Well, lost for a quarter of a century

on an island of 55 million people. Mmm.

Shouldn't be too difficult to trace.

I discovered both defendants

doing a funny sort of dance along the towpath.

MAGISTRATE: A funny dance, Constable?

Yes, sir, you know, sort of a Cossack dance.

Kicking their legs about and that.

I, uh, asked them what they were doing and Coward replied,

"We're the Moscow State Circus, squire."

And knocked my helmet into the canal.

In my opinion,

this sort of behaviour has become only too common recently.

In the hitherto quiet shires of England.

And although you pair don't appear to be

the usual lager louts,

a more appropriate term might well be vodka vandals.

(HUSHED LAUGHTER)

SANDRA: Mr Albert Robinson.

That's right.

They are all the same, men.

He'll have been out gallivanting last night if I knew owt about it.

Well, he always rings me, Mam. He's good like that.

What?

Oh, right.

Well, thanks anyway.

No answer from his room?

Probably means he's laying comatose in an alcoholic stupor.

Unless of course he got distracted last night and never came back.

I must have got it wrong.

They're saying he's not booked in there.

ALBERT: I wish I'd never found you.

First you turn up with a gun to kill me, then you land me with a criminal record.

JEREMY: I wish you'd never found me.

I also wish you had the simple common sense to sling the transmitter years ago.

ALBERT: How many more times? I didn't and that's an end to it.

When you get back to wherever it is you come from

you better forget you ever knew me.

Don't worry. If they make contact again,

- I'm going straight to the police. - Well, you keep me right out of it.

That's typical of you, isn't it, Sergei?

- You always were a selfish bugger. - I mean it.

Completely out of it.

It's a million to one shot they'll ever find us.

But if they do, you're on your own, sunshine.

I'm so ashamed.

Drunk and disorderly, at my age.

(PHONE RINGING)

What's all this?

I'm going to need office space.

Your very nice house manager fixed me up.

Of course, he did.

You seem to be able to organise anything you want.

And I bet if they're still out there, you'll find them.

I hope so. That's my job.

What about your private life? Is that running smoothly?

I hardly think this is the time to discuss such topics.

Of course not. Work, work, work.

So, if Zorin ordered the film to be shot,

shouldn't you be asking him what's it's all about?

Moscow's doing that.

(SPEAKING RUSSIAN)

We've reduced his dose. He's awake. But I hope you speak English,

because he still refuses to speak any other language.

My English is fine.

(IN ENGLISH) Comrade Zorin, you have a guest.

The KGB, yet again.

Seems they have nothing better to do these days.

(SPEAKING RUSSIAN)

So you insist on speaking English.

As obstinate as a mule, you.

(IN ENGLISH) OK.

My English is pretty best.

Don't you worry, my fine fellow.

We know you are sending Zelenski and Rublev to English in 1966.

We are finding film about them at World Cup final.

What do you think of that?

My fine fellow.

Do you think the good doctor will allow me slabber?

Or just a slaver or dribble to be slobber or be slubber.

To gobble, sloppily and grossly.

(SPEAKING RUSSIAN)

You've spent 20 years here.

If you don't work with us,

I promise you another 20.

(IN ENGLISH) Ah. I have it.

And with the added bonus of a triple word score.

I-M-B-E-C-l-L-E.

Imbecile, my fine fellow.

IGOR: Waste of resources, if you ask me.

I've got two staff plying through records of

every Soviet citizen who's been in the UK in the past 25 years.

I, uh...

I noticed the Gorky play at...

Barbican.

It's had quite respectable reviews.

We're entitled to tickets, if you'd like to come.

Odd that they were supporting England.

Odd that they were there at all.

IGOR: Victor is having another look at the film. Might spot something.

Yeah.

I'm telling you, I'm watching it right now.

It's crystal clear and it's in focus.

Yeah, well, of course, it shows the disputed goal.

That's the whole goddamn reason that I'm calling you.

ALBERT: I hope she gets me back.

Had a leaking hose on the way down.

I'm surprised she got you here at all.

Look,

it may not be a Maserati,

but it's been a bloody good runner has this.

I'm sure it has. Now, look, I don't want to be personal, old chap,

but this is goodbye with a capital "G".

I had hoped you might have grown up a bit in the past twenty-odd years, Sergei.

Sergei is dead and we never met.

Ciao.

(ENGINE REVS)

(CAR HONKING)

Stop! Stop!

You got Morris!

(CAR HONKING)

Bloody hell.

Excuse me.

Do you know if Chelsea won last night?

The game was cancelled.

Follow me.

It's rather silly, all this cloak and dagger stuff.

You sure you're not having me on?

(CLICKS)

Yes. I thought so.

A leopard doesn't change his spots, George.

Nor does the Russian Bear.

Great chess players, the Russkies.

Never make a move without an ulterior motive.

Any idea what the meeting was about?

Quality is a bit iffy.

The directional mic seemed to be playing up, sir.

ALAN: (ON TAPE) To be of any use to my program me

it must be broadcast quality.

It is. And it definitely shows the incident.

As I already told you, it's crystal clear.

All I got, I'm afraid, sir.

Hmm.

Found out who he is?

Name's Alan West. A television producer.

- BBC? - No, the other side.

So, not necessarily a lefty.

Got a beard though, I see.

He produces sport. Soccer mainly.

Anything else known?

There is one thing that could be relevant.

He spent time in Russia.

Worked on the Moscow Olympics.

Did he, by heaven?

Yes, yes, yes. This is beginning to look interesting.

(MUSIC PLAYING ON EARPHONES)

Goddamn traffic!

This lousy city needs a network of 10-lane highways driven through it.

Yeah, it's a bitch.

Now give me an update on Grishina.

It's kind of hard to say, sir. She never goes anywhere.

You telling me, she ain't been out of that dump yet?

Not even once?

Now, let's get this straight.

What's the first thing any red broad always does

as soon as she hits town?

Gets her ass down to Harrods or South Molton Street, right?

Affirmative, sir.

Hmm. I don't like the smell of this.

You got any bright ideas?

All we know is that she's an English language expert

with a technical background.

And word has it, she's going places.

Shit!

I've only been there for 30 seconds.

What the hell's the matter with you goddamn people?

So, she hasn't been shopping once?

Something sure as hell is going on.

Hmm.

I love London, me.

When our Walter was alive, we used to go down for a weekend, in June.

Trooping the Colour, and that.

Of course, we weren't on no union expenses,

so we couldn't afford to stay in no swish hotels.

It weren't that swish.

What, The Kensington?

Sounds pretty posh to me.

It had its own Jacuzzi and everything.

Nowt so grand.

What were the beds like?

Manage to get a good night's sleep?

She's dozed off.

I don't know. What a blabber over a bloody stuffed monkey.

I'll get it back, love. Don't worry.

You definitely know this bloke who went off with it, then?

ALBERT: Oh, aye.

Did he stay at the Kensington with you as well?

Uh, yeah.

Funny.

Cos when our Sandra phoned the hotel,

the lass there said she'd never heard of you

or your union booking.

Let alone, blokes running off with monkeys.

Mam, shut it.

Right. Yes, it's just that I'm rather keen on a quick sale,

and I'd appreciate a swift evaluation.

Excellent!

OK. I'll arrange access. Bye.

Ah, that's got them moving, Morris.

Let's see if we can wake up those

dozy bastards at British Telecom, shall we?

Well, I thought I got a bite

and then I realised it was snagged on something.

So, I waded in with me knife.

Expecting to find what?

I don't know. A bike or something.

There's all sorts in there, you know.

Ah, but not many of what you caught, eh?

No, when I fished it out, I found it were an old radio transmitter.

But no ordinary one. This was a bit special, wasn't it, Brian?

Yeah. This one was Russian.

In fact, a recently dumped Soviet radio transmitter

in British territorial canal water sounds the sort of thing

James Bond might be involved with.

(LAUGHS) This is funny, yeah.

Indeed.

The British seem to have the most peculiar attitude to the news.

Now, that was mullet lover television program me in the Midlands.

- Did they show the transmitter? - No.

Where is it now?

According to them, the police still have it.

I'm trying to get one of our local spooks to check it out.

I'd like to go there myself.

No way.

It's outside your restricted travel area.

Isn't there anyone you bribed to handle all that?

Doesn't work like that around here, honey.

It's most important I investigate this.

No, forget it!

You're almost certainly being watched.

You step foot outside of Greater London and they'll bust your ass.

A seething cesspit.

A shrieking asylum where they don't know

a bottle of Chateau Latour from a bucket of Harvey Wallbanger.

You recognise that?

Yeah, it's vaguely familiar.

Ah, should be.

It's how you once described Wall Street.

Really?

Actually, I'm rather fond of the old place.

Come on, you hate that hellhole almost as much as I do, Jeremy.

You wanna leave this green and pleasant land to go to the New York office.

There must be a very good reason.

Is there anything I should know about?

I'm just getting a bit stale.

I need a change. A new challenge.

Don't bullshit me, Jeremy.

No, it's very simple, Baris.

I see my future in the States.

And I'd prefer to stay on the Hamilton Fairchild team, but...

Look, this is all very sudden and you're not gonna railroad me into a quick decision.

Gone for another walk, you say?

He wanted some fresh air.

Fresh air?

There's something up, Sandra.

Mam, please leave it.

Your dad never did the dirty on me once in his life, God rest his soul.

But his brother Eric and that piece from Ancoats.

Well, everybody knew what was going on except your poor aunty Dorothy.

You had to feel for her.

It's not another woman.

He's the right age, love.

There's plenty of young lasses down in that brewery

who wouldn't mind a ding-dong with a married man.

And they don't give any thought to the happy half and the home they might be wrecking.

Oh, Mam, please do shut up.

IGOR: Why do I listen to you?

If we're caught here, we'll certainly be expelled.

Don't worry.

And I'm really grateful to you, Igor.

Your initiative won't go unnoticed with the directorate.

I can assure you.

It won't go unnoticed with Chekhov either.

He'll have my guts for garters.

Oh. What a strange expression. Relax.

No one will know.

(BELL TOLLING)

If you don't want to know, just say so.

But I rather enjoyed the other night.

Well, so did I.

The earth moved and everything.

Serena.

Call Marcus Fielding, apologise and cancel me for bridge tonight.

Do I give any particular reason?

Goodbye, Serena.

A little bird tells me you've had an audience with Baris.

Really?

Must give Serena the bullet one of these days.

She's worried about you, Jeremy.

We both are.

Sweet of you. Quite unnecessary.

Come on. You look terrible.

Serena says you're not eating properly.

Something's obviously wrong.

All right. None of my business.

Quite.

No use smiling at me, young lady.

You journalists are all the same.

It's under lock and key until some boffin chap pie

from London has given it the once-over.

But it's such a good story.

It would make an amusing item for our readers in the Soviet Union.

Don't get me wrong.

I'm all in favour of glasnost and all that.

It's just, I have my orders, see?

Thank you for your help.

I'll go and interview this Brian anyway.

One thing getting the local rag.

You'll be tickled pink if he gets into Pravda.

(LAUGHING)

It's been quite a Russian week round here one way or another.

Sorry?

ALBERT: Sorry, I didn't phone you but, well...

All right.

We were out boozing.

I didn't wanna call you up sozzled.

That's the top and bottom of it, honest.

You're lying, Albert.

I can read you like a book.

It's a lot of fuss over nothing, this.

It all started that night you went out without a word

and you didn't come back till dawn.

I was chained up about the strike and that.

No, Albert. Something else is up.

I'm not daft, you know.

Tell me straight.

Are you seeing another woman?

Bloody hell.

Is that what you think?

Well, what am I to think? You won't be honest with me.

Never.

Never, never.

The day I look at another woman

will be the day hell freezes over.

It's only ever been you, Sandy.

You're everything to me.

Everything.

I still want the truth, Albie.

I still need to know.

She breaks cover.

Comes all the way out here, buys a newspaper,

and then pops into the local police station.

What the hell's going on?

MAN ON RADIO: Omaha to Kansas, Olga's back in play.

Get in, get in!

I told you this would happen.

It's the bloody CIA.

For Christ's sake, Richfield, it's the first time she goes out.

You've got two cars, six personnel, and you lose her!

They caught us cold, sir.

I don't suppose you're any closer to figuring out what the hell is going on.

Sir, we've got airbases in that sector of the country.

I don't know whether you've noticed, Richfield,

but we have airbases all over these God-forsaken islands.

Sir, she bought a newspaper in the village.

There may be some significance in that.

Go on, amaze me.

All right.

It's a copy of the Huntingdon and Northamptonshire Bugle, sir.

The what?

I should never have left the Marine Corps.

These are delicate times, for God's sake.

It was stupid, provocative and clumsy.

But essential for my operation.

I don't give a damn about that.

How the hell is the Home Office gonna take it

when they hear that the KGB has been cruising around Northamptonshire,

playing hide-and-seek with Uncle Sam's goddamn flying circus?

I lost them, sir, so there was no real incident.

Kostov!

You consider yourself lucky that I don't expel you myself.

I can understand your anger.

But the risk was more than worthwhile.

What?

Some radio ham dumps his crummy Russian set in the canal because it doesn't work.

Oh, that's a big deal. Hold the front page.

And these vodka bandits.

Coward and Robinson. They're clearly English.

Obviously just a couple of assholes clowning around.

Yes, it may be a coincidence, but I insist it's followed up.

Major Grishina.

You're a million miles away.

You follow it up your goddamn self.

(DOOR OPENS AND CLOSES)

GEORGE: They met again, sir.

This time, they handed over what looks like a can of film, sir.

Really?

I think it might be some sort of Soviet attempt to

infiltrate the British media, sir.

From what I've seen on the box, they achieved that years ago.

(CHUCKLES) Very good, sir.

Is it a bit chilly in here or is it me?

I fired off a memo but apparently,

the boiler's likely to be on the blink all morning, George, so get on with it.

Oh, right.

Uh...

Their target this time seems to be sport rather than current affairs or drama, sir.

Very odd.

Indeed, but playwright's contact currently produces

a program me called Soccer Scene.

- Ever watched it? - No, sir.

But I put in a requisition for media surveillance to video it for us.

Well, let's hope the sodding machine's working.

I don't know, George, the whole outfit's going to pot.

Listen to this.

"Can our department spare anybody to go to Northants

"to take a butchers at some old radio found in a canal?"

I ask you, who the bloody hell do they think we are?

(DOG BARKING)

About time. Your tea's ready.

How long's that car been outside?

What car?

Dad, when's Morris coming home?

Soon, I told you.

There's no need to snap at her.

I'm sorry.

It'll be soon, I promise. OK?

Well, whatever general trend's doing there's always a market for quality property.

Well, I bow to your expertise. Let's just hope we can place it soon.

I only wish I could afford it.

Look, why don't we have lunch together?

Maybe I could give you a few tips on how to become a wealthy young woman.

Oh. I'd love to.

(DOORBELL BUZZING)

Excuse me.

The owner, by the way, is extremely dishy.

Unfortunately, he doesn't come with it.

Sorry to barge in, but you're going to have a square meal tonight, like it or not.

Oh, well done, Alison.

Should've known there'd be a queue.

Forget it for tonight.

Let me take you for a traditional British curry. You'll love it.

(SIGHS) Look.

The boss is right.

Cossack dancing does not make Misters Coward and Robinson into KGB agents.

But doesn't it seem curious to you?

A company director from London and a shop steward from Lancashire,

getting drunk together in a small village miles from anywhere.

Nothing about the English and drinking surprises me.

And they do their Cossack dance on the very banks of the canal.

Where a Soviet radio transmitter happens to be found.

At the academy, we played a game.

Finding hidden words

within words.

IGOR: Jeremy Coward.

Albert Robinson.

(SPEAKING IN RUSSIAN)

Incredible.

Amazing.

Unbelievable!

(LAUGHTER)

(CLEARS THROAT)

Yes, sir. What can we do for you?

My name is...

Vladimir Yefimovich Zelenski.

I am an illegal immigrant.

A citizen of the Soviet Union.

And an agent of the KGB.

I've come to surrender myself to the British authorities.

Thanks. I really enjoyed that.

Pretty basic nosh.

Fills a corner, as my mother would say.

Didn't see you as a cuddly toy person, Jeremy.

Probably quite a few things you don't know about me.

I think I'd better wash up and leave you to it.

You really shouldn't have gone to all this trouble.

You may not want to hear this, but I did it because I happen to care about you.

I care because somewhere, behind that pebble-smooth performance,

is a fundamentally decent man who desperately needs to touch another being.

Not just screw them.

Touch them.

Coffee?

Mmm?

I want 'em away from me house.

Away from me wife and kids.

And I want a guarantee that my family will have 24 hours protection if necessary.

All right, all right. Now, hold on. Just hold on.

I've got a unit on its way.

Let's just first ascertain who the occupants of the parked car are

and what they're doing outside your house.

For God's sake!

How many more times? The KGB!

I'm an agent myself. I'd know them anywhere!

Sit down.

Please.

I just want to clarify a couple of points.

Now.

Your name is Vladimir Yefimovich Zelenski.

And you're a Soviet agent.

Yeah.

Well, can you enlighten me

as to why you've got a broad Mancunian accent?

You live in a council house in Eccles

and you've got three kids named Gary, Wayne and Sharon.

Please.

Just get them away from me family.

(SIREN WAILING)

What are you doing?

Out, out, out, out, out!

Police.

Department of Social Security.

Right.

On your feet, comrade.

We've got enough on our plates holding together

the tattered fabric of decadent Western civilisation

without comedians like you wasting our time.

Your KGB hit squad are in fact the DSS,

keeping an eye on your next-door neighbour.

What?

Who's apparently claiming to be disabled and unfit for work.

At the same time as putting in a 10-hour day as a scaffolder.

- Are you sure? - Of course I'm bloody sure!

Like I'm sure your real name is Albert Robinson.

Not Nikita bloody Khrushchev.

Like I'm sure that you were nicked last week in Northampton for D and D.

And like I'm sure, that if you don't get out of here right now,

I'm gonna kick your arse from here to breakfast time.

Now, out.

Now! Before I throw the sodding book at you!

(lNDISTINCT MUTTERING)

(SPEAKING IN RUSSIAN)

Leave me alone!

Leave me alone!

(SHOUTING)

(IN ENGLISH) Shh, it's all right.

You're having a bad dream.

Hey, I'm all right.

I'm all right.

Yeah.

(lNDISTINCT TALKING ON RADIO)

Right, that's it. Didn't get back till the early hours.

You hardly slept a wink and you haven't touched your breakfast.

I'm not going on like this, you know.

When you get back tonight, you and me are gonna have a straight talk.

I want it out in the open, whatever it is.

Gary, Wayne. Are you dressed yet?

Yeah, yeah, yeah, very ingenious, Kostov.

And I suppose you think the sun shines out of Major Grishina's ass?

No, sir, but I do think she is onto something.

OK, OK.

What does it mean?

If Coward and Robinson are in truth Rublev and Zelenski,

then it means they are still working together as a cell.

Doing what, for God's sake?

The analysis is that they're long term sleepers.

But it appears they have assumed the botched radio contact

from Moscow was an activation signal led to start the operation.

An operation that was secretly hatched up back in the Cold War.

Yeah, I know that.

But I need to know what is happening now.

You've got two mavericks out there on the rogue operation

that could cause great embarrassment to the Soviet Union.

That's what's happening now.

OK, this is the way I see it, sir.

Major Grishina's an electronics expert.

She's been sent over by the Reds because they have lost some

extremely valuable communications hardware.

Which a Soviet field agent accidentally drops into the Grand Junction Canal.

Jesus H. Christ...

Sir, the accident was that somebody found it.

Now, it would be high tech, water resistant and probably put there for security purposes.

Sir, there's a simple way to check this out.

The hardware is currently in the possession of the British Police.

Hey, I ain't turning this over to those devious sons of bitches at Ml5.

It wasn't my suggestion, sir.

What is your suggestion, Richfield?

I would like you to authorise a covert operation

to liberate the Russian transmitter, sir.

You want me to give you permission to burglarise

the Northamptonshire constabulary?

Affirmative, sir.

K1: Drinky, drinky, make you feel better.

GEORGE: Do you mind if I take my coat off, sir?

- I find it a little sticky in here. - By all means.

The concept of thermostatic control seems entirely beyond those

cretins in boiler maintenance.

So, fill me in.

Well, sir, the only thing I can definitely say is that

playwright has handed over some film to this TV producer.

I mean, presumably it'll show on his program me.

Yes, and his program me, Soccer Scene,

gets very high ratings among socio-economic groups C3 and C4.

In other words, lager louts and hooligans.

Baffling, isn't it?

Not to me, George.

English soccer hooligans have long been a national disgrace.

Every time those fans misbehave, it reflects very badly on our country.

That's true, sir.

What if the Soviets, via programmes like this,

are using television to orchestrate this violence

and undermine our system?

It's a bit far-fetched, sir.

Millwall fans being whipped into a Moscow inspired frenzy

by Saint and Greavsie? (LAUGHS)

Don't be flippant.

When you've been in the service as long as I have, you'll learn that nothing but nothing

is far-fetched.

Yes, sir. Sorry.

I want to know exactly what it was that Chekhov handed over.

Get onto Special Branch and arrange a discreet tiptoe into the studio

and a quiet peek at this film.

ELSIE: Bloody obvious what's going on.

He's left you for another woman.

Doesn't have the decency to tell you to your face.

It's being an orphan that does it.

They don't have feelings like we do.

I'll wring his bloody neck when I catch up with him.

ALBERT: I have done my best to provide for you and the kids.

I've seen a solicitor.

Everything is now in your name.

It's best now that I go and you never know who and what I really am.

I sure can't figure it but I'm not gonna stand in your way.

I talked to Marvin Barkowski.

He suggests you two have dinner together when he's in the UK next week.

Thanks, Baris, I appreciate that.

Look, if there's anything shady about this I'll have your ass, Jeremy.

No, no, no, don't worry. I really am very grateful.

ALBERT: Hello, Jeremy.

Old chap.

Old chum.

How the devil are you, my fine fellow?

Catch you in the restaurant. Won't be a tick.

Why can't you stand on your own two feet, you selfish bastard?

We're going to the Home Office, Sergei.

It's the only way.

All right, we'll go to them. Convince them who we are.

What then? You thought about that?

It's better than waiting for the KGB.

Oh, don't be so bloody naive.

They'll either lock us up for the rest of our lives

or they'll hand us over to some sodding glasnost deal.

Or they'll make us work for Ml5.

For crying out loud, our lives will never be our own again.

I can't sleep, Sergei.

And I've started dreaming in Russian again.

VICTOR: Forget Little Miss Iron Knickers.

I am taking over.

I want these guys found.

It's top priority. Everyone on it we can spare, OK?

Sure.

There's literally hundreds of people called Albert Robinson in Lancashire.

- But a lot fewer Jeremy Cowards in London. - Yeah, yeah, I know that.

But photo surveillance is already secretly snapping all the Jeremy Cowards

we can find. Now you keep them at it, Kostov, understand?

Sir.

KGB may have lost these guys but the lD's gonna find them, right?

- Right, sir. - You'd better believe it.

Thanks very much.

Come on.

- How much did you pay for that? - Fifteen pounds.

(SCOFFS) Bit bloody steep for spam, isn't it?

It's not spam. It's called salami.

Look, why don't you do what I'm doing?

Go home, don't panic and tough it out.

If you're not panicking, why have you changed your phone number?

Sensible precaution.

How did you trace me to my office, by the way?

Glove compartment of your Maserati.

- Ferrari. - Posh Italian car.

You left an American Express letter in there with the address on it.

Shit, of course.

(CHUCKLES) All right, so be it, Sergei.

But talking to you has cheered me up a bit.

Jolly good. Pass the oregano, would you?

Ore-what?

Why don't you let me carry the basket?

I mean, you know what you want, I don't.

- I always carry the basket for Sandra. - It's all right. It's all right.

- No, I'll do it. - No, I'll do it.

- If I carry it... - I'll carry it.

If you're going to squabble, I should get one each.

This is ridiculous.

Why don't you go home and stay there?

No, I can't live a lie.

Can't deceive Sandra any more.

I've left home for good.

What plans have you got?

Haven't really thought.

I suppose I could stay at your place till I sort something out.

No, absolutely not. Out of the question.

- Why? - I positively don't want you

anywhere near my place.

I could give you some money for a hotel. How much do you want?

- How much do you want? - I don't want... I don't want any money.

Excuse me.

(TYRES SCREECHING)

Camera work's dreadful. But, boy, do they capture the goal.

Just coming up.

Don't move. Special Branch.

We have a warrant.

VICTOR: Ah, unless this Jeremy Coward here's

put on five stone and had his nose broke in several places

I think we'll pass on this one.

What do we pay these assholes for? This one's West Indian, for Christ's sake.

Good evening, comrades.

I'm sure you intended to let me know you were having those taken.

No matter. The photo lab technician was sweet enough to let me look them over first.

You haven't seen this set yet.

Physically, he hasn't changed a great deal.

But agent Sergei Rublev,

first Director at KGB, has become Jeremy Coward,

Executive Director, Hamilton Fairchild lnvestment Bank.

One down, one to go I think.

ALBERT: For what it's worth, I didn't deceive you when I told you I loved you.

I loved you when we first met. I love you now.

I will always love you.

I hope one day, you and the kids will get over this dreadful thing I've done to you.

Goodbye, my darling squidgy face.

Forgive me.

Albert.

P.S.

Wherever I am,

and whatever happens to me,

I will always be thinking of you.

You got a lovely home, Sergei.

I will say that.

Not exactly a home.

Morris tells me he can't stand the place.

Aye, well.

He's being sent back up north in the morning,

where he belongs.

What's your poll tax like here?

It's a solid Tory borough.

- It's very reasonable. - Aye.

- Bloody fiddle more like. - Of course it is.

(CHUCKLES)

I think we should stay off politics, don't you, comrade?

All this new market economy.

They'll be getting the poll tax in Russia next.

Together with all the other Western goodies.

Unemployment, drugs.

- Quiz shows. - (SCOFFS)

Extraordinary, the way things are changing over there though.

Don't you think?

It's fascinating.

I bought it all in a very detached way.

Realised I was looking at it like an outsider.

An Englishman, in fact.

Yeah.

I know what you mean.

Hmm.

(THUNDER RUMBLING)

Lots of things I loathe about England, of course.

The litter.

The small minded jingoism.

- Snobbish class ridden institutions. - (SCOFFS)

You seem to have done all right out of the class you joined.

Nonsense.

And don't slosh that rum as if it were a glass of brown ale. Frightful little oik.

Ah.

What was it?

Beef bourguignon for me tea?

Drop of French brandy to wash it down.

Hey, I don't know I'm born.

Sergei.

Is there anyone in this block claiming social security?

Well, at 400 grand a pad,

perhaps we all should be.

I got an awful feeling,

this time it's not the DSS.

What do you think?

JEREMY: Bugger.

Looks like dobriy den in Knightsbridge.

(THUNDER RUMBLING)