All language subtitles for Betrayal (2026) - 01x01 - Piles.BONE

♪ Take the time to make some
sense of what you wanna say... ♪

♪ And cast your
words away Upon the waves

♪ Sail them home with acquiesce
on a ship of hope today... ♪

Bro, listen, please.
You need to pack.

Ehsan?

Ehsan Taremi?

Did you tell anyone
that you were meeting me?

No.

So, what is it you've got for me?

What I've got, it's big.

There's a lot of people
that could get hurt in this.

Hundreds of people killed.

There's someone I can
point you towards, as well.

- Someone pulling all the strings.
- Who? Who's pulling the strings?

But what I need is a
guarantee of my family's safety.

For my wife and my girls.

You pay me for good information, right?

Why? Doesn't the drugs
trade pay any more?

I'm not in that part of the business.

- What do you do, then?
- I'm only a translator.

In my experience, people in the
drugs trade fall out all the time.

Now, you've made up some
"threat to national security" nonsense,

and you expect, within five minutes,

MI5 to provide you with a
safe house and a new identity.

- Is that it?
- I'm not trying it on.

It... It's not about the drugs.

What's it about, then? Eh?

Me and my family need to be safe.
You sort that, and I'll talk.

You've got to believe me.

Good news is, your
car will be dropped off tonight.

Bad news is, you're gonna
get the bollocking of your life

for the shitshow back there.

It's a gangland hit.

Not remotely MI5 business.

Personally, I think you
performed a public service.

Why on earth did you
go on your own, though?

Honestly, what were you
thinking, you dickhead?

Better get going, mate.
They're waiting for you upstairs.

Good luck. You're gonna need it.

'I'm with the counsellor.

- 'Where are you?'
- I'm not gonna make it.

'You better have a bloody
good excuse this time.'

You promised me.

Erm, my husband's been held up at work.

We'll have to rearrange.

How does that make you feel?

How does it make me feel?

Makes me feel like walking into a club,

downing two espresso martinis
and shagging the barman.

Told me you were taking a day's
leave to go and see your mum.

- Hear me out...
- Told me a bare-faced lie.

Service Liaison at Greater
Manchester Police told me

that Ehsan tipped them off
about a threat to national security.

So they passed it on to you

so you could be the one to
go and embarrass yourself.

Ehsan was of Persian heritage.

He had links to a gang
trafficking heroin through Iran.

Ehsan hinted at a mass casualty event.

- My gut told me he was the real deal.
- We all know your gut is good.

But we have to prioritise,
using our resources carefully.

I told you not to follow that lead.
Instead, what do you do?

You go behind my back,
use your personal phone

to communicate with a potential source.

You went on your own,
without any back-up,

and you were horribly exposed.

And now two people are dead.

We had to send in
a team to clean up your mess.

This is the third poor lead you've
escalated up in as many months.

We all know you want to
prove you've still got it, John.

But this is just desperate.

You don't get killed
if you're a shit lead.

I spoke to Greater Manchester Police.

Word in Stockport is Craig Beeston's

had five kilos of his
heroin go walkabout.

I think you got yourself
caught up in the fallout

over some missing drugs.

We've not identified the gunman yet.

But it's what these people do,
John. They're like rats in a sack.

The Manchester drugs
trade's a police matter.

If there's an inquiry, you'll
be in very serious trouble.

It may be a disciplinary matter.

Nice of you both to ask how I am.

I thought mental health
was a priority these days.

You've experienced a
deeply traumatic event.

You need to take some time off.

- I don't need some time off.
- You've killed someone.

I'm looking out for your
mental health, John.

Was that only a play?

- Cheers. Thank you.
- Cheers.

I'm sorry.

I know what your
work can be like, John.

Well... obviously, I don't.

Fucking Official fucking Secrets Act.

Fucking bastard fucking Secrets Act.

I know, I know, I know.

I really believed you when
you said you'd be there this time.

I know.

I am sorry.

Can we reschedule?

She's got us down as
a lost cause already.

Oh, come on, don't say that. We're OK.

I do get why you want us to go.

Do you? Really?

It's fine. It's done. I'm not in a mood.

We'll reschedule.

Why are you wearing those clothes?

I got a bit messed up at work.

All my stuff had to go
into an evidence bag.

What happened?

You know I can't tell you.

Did the kids have a nice tea?

Er, yeah.

Chloe asked if you could
take her to football on Saturday.

Oh... as long
as I don't have to go in.

How is your arse?

- It's very painful.
- Do you want me to have a look?

That's the best
offer I've had all day.

All right, then. Sexy time.

Come on! You know you hit
the jackpot with my peachy arse.

My God!

- Oh.
- You're black and blue!

Yeah, I told you shit
went down at work.

Mummy!

I'll go.

You OK, mate?

Come on. Come here. Come on. Come on.

Come on. There we go.

You're all right. Come on.
It's OK. It's OK.

Come on.

Alex. Signed, Alex.

- Daddy?
- Yes, sweetheart.

Do you think I'm a striker or defender?

Striker. Top bins, hat-trick hero.

Hat-trick heroine, right?

Yeah, Chloe,
you tell him. That's right.

I'm not going in today.

Work said to take it easy for a few days,

so Daddy's picking you up tonight.

Yay!

Yeah, you need to rest.
Are you all right?

Yeah, fine. What's on the to-do list?

Can you pick up these groceries

and maybe make an
appointment with your own GP?

You need to have
confirmation that it is just piles.

- Hey, Marta.
- Morning.

- How was the date?
- Great.

Tell me about it later.

Yeah, I will. She was lovely.

Oh, do you still want me to baby-sit?

- Yes, please!
- Bye.

- Oh, you're home.
- Mm-hm.

- Bye!
- Bye!

Are you ill?
You're never home at this time.

Yay.

Shall we put the cover over? Eh?

Come on. Oh, good lad.
Can you see the ducks?

- What noise do the ducks make?
- Quack, quack.

Good lad. Good lad.

I'm hungry.

Daddy? Daddy?

'This is Simone Grant.
Please leave a message.'

Hey, Simone, it's John.

I've just got your charming email.

You can fuck right off. Yeah? Fuck off.

I'm going nowhere. Do you hear me?

- It can work.
- Yeah.

- It can work.
- Do you wanna use the yellow, maybe?

Do you wanna draw a
little face on the T-rex?

Huh? The T-rex?

- Marta?
- Hmm?

How do you do a quick wash?

One second.

There you go. Easy.

Shall we get you some biscuits?

OK.

What are you doing?
Hey, what are you doing?

I were only looking for a
place to kip down tonight.

- Have you been following me?
- No.

What the fuck are you doing?

I swear I wanted somewhere
to get my head down.

Are you from Stockport?

Do you work for Craig Beeston?

How the fuck does
he know where I live?

Was our Ehsan trying to
sell you Craig's five kilos?

No.

Where do you think
I've got stash hidden?

You don't seem like a dealer.

The most interesting thing I've
seen you do is pick your nose.

Craig wants to know who you are.

I'm a journalist.

I'm writing about the
Manchester drugs trade.

Ehsan said he had a story for me.

Have you got any idea
what he wanted to tell me?

No. I don't know shite about
anything you're talking about...

Whoa, whoa, whoa.
What's your name, mate?

- Jordan.
- Jordan.

OK, Jordan. If you wanna
make some real money,

- I can pay you for information.
- What sort of information?

Why did Craig have Ehsan killed?

I don't know anything about that, mate.

All I know is no-one trusted Ehsan.

John?

All right, well, look, I'll
give you my number.

And if you do think of anything,
then give me a shout, yeah?

I'll pay you. I'll pay you double
whatever Beeston's paying you.

Marta said some strange
man was in our garden today.

Can you grate that?

- Oh, that was nothing.
- Oh? Why was he in our garden?

Just a rough sleeper looking for
somewhere to bed down tonight.

It was a kid. Nothing to worry about.

What's wrong?

I've been offered voluntary redundancy.

Voluntary redundancy?

Why?

Are you OK?

20 years, and they did it by
email. Can you believe that?

- They've offered two years' salary.
- Two years? Bloody hell, well...

- You must be really upset.
- I am.

Yeah, I'm gutted, actually.

But... could be good
for us, don't you think?

Claire loves a silver lining.

Yeah. Claire DOES love a silver lining.

Change of career and lifestyle
could help us make a fresh start.

What do you mean?

Well, I need to do more at work

or Martin is never
gonna make me a partner.

You could be a stay-at-home dad,

and it would be good for your
relationship with the children.

A stay-at-home dad?

Not forever. Obviously. Just...

..just while you find your feet.

I promise I'll think about it.

Thank you.

'Hey, Simone, it's John.

'I've just got your charming email.

'You can fuck right off. Yeah? Fuck off.

'I'm going nowhere. Do you hear me?'

You and I were the new
generation of intelligence officers.

To be brutally honest, nothing changed.

All that happened was
the public schoolboys went,

and in came the equally
dick-swinging working-class lads.

Except instead of Wagner,
they were listening to Oasis.

I was in the same cohort as you.

I didn't belong.

Didn't feel very welcome.

This organisation had to change.

And thank God it did.

It is not acceptable to leave an
abusive message on my phone.

I apologise.

- Hope you're sincere in that.
- I am. I am.

Have you spoken to Claire
about the redundancy offer?

She wants me to take
it and to walk away.

Look, John, I get it, you're
an MI5-er to your core.

But don't fear change.

Take two weeks'
leave and think about it.

It's a generous offer.

You need to do the handover to
the officer who'll wrap up this case.

Fine. Who is he?

She.

This is Mehreen Askari-Evans.
Mehreen's on secondment from MI6.

John Hughes. Your
reputation goes before you.

Pleased to meet you, Mehreen.

- So, why the move from Six?
- Personal reasons.

- Intriguing.
- Maybe one for next time.

Where are you from?

- Where am I from?
- Yeah.

Yeah, where's your accent from?

Made in Cornwall.
Welsh mother. Iranian father.

Where are you from? The Cotswolds?

Anyway, I think the case work
on Ehsan Taremi's shooting

is fairly straightforward.

Is there anything else?

What was Ehsan like?

We only texted a couple
of times before we met.

Erm...

He seemed genuine enough.

- Are you heading up to Stockport?
- Stockport? No.

I've been told to get
all my ducks in a row

before handing the
case on to the police.

- Disappointing.
- Hmm.

It does sound like you got caught
up in some bad gangland shit.

Yeah, or senior management
don't want Iran hitting the fan

while Number 10's plugging
its regional peace talks.

Oh, come on, the intelligence
services are politically neutral.

Yes, when it suits them.

And when it suits Whitehall.

You wouldn't mind sharing
your personal number?

You know, in case I
need to quickly confer?

Oh, don't worry, married
men are definitely not my kink.

Perhaps you'd like to begin
by telling me why you're here.

To be honest, I don't know.

We've been married for 14 years.

Who'd have thought "till death
do us part" would take so long?

Humour can be useful.

But let's try and give
this its due weight.

Perhaps we don't talk
as much as we should.

I agree, but it's not the...

Sorry. One minute.

Work.

I think in these sessions, we
need to switch our phones off.

Oh, I'm sorry, I can't
switch my phone off.

Why?

Because John works
for the security services.

Claire...

Please.

And that is the problem...

- in a nutshell.
- We're not supposed to say that.

He has never been able to talk
about anything connected with work.

So as time's gone on, we
just... we just don't talk at all.

It's just the kids,
chores. Arrangements.

But there are things I've
wanted to talk about for years.

Seven years ago, when Chloe was two...

..John had an affair
with a woman at work.

That was years ago.

- That was water under the bridge.
- John, let her speak.

I could tell.

And he admitted it,
and promised he'd end it.

But I have never been
able to know what happened.

Who she was.

I simply had to take on
trust that it... that it is over.

For all I know, he
might still work with her.

I don't. I don't.

Don't you trust me?

He hid behind his job.

And we... we moved on. But...

..deep down, I've never
been able to forgive him.

And it's just... it's such a headfuck.

Because virtually everything that
he does in a normal working week

just looks like he's up to something.

And I...

I need to know who I'm married to.

- You said that you forgave me.
- I have tried to forgive you.

And after a gap, we had another child.

Our son, Kit.

But I don't think I can get past this

while you're still doing
the job that you do.

Hey, Dad. Are you
taking me to school today?

Oh, I can't now, sweetheart.
I've got a work thing.

But I thought you were having a break?

It's just a couple of loose ends.

- When will you be back?
- I won't be late.

I'll call you later and let you know.

- Bye, Dad.
- Bye-bye, sweetheart.

- Morning!
- Morning, Marta.

Hi.

Oh, my gosh.

Don't spend it all at once.

Not with my mother.

She's alcoholic,
diabetic and agoraphobic.

If it's got an "ic", she's got it.

And muggins here runs around
after her, picking up the fucking tab.

So, what have you got for me?

I've got some info on Ehsan's wife.

Craig's had everyone looking for her.

He's had me on this Persian Centre.

Why's that?

Boss said Ehsan and his wife
used to hang out and do stuff there.

- What did Ehsan do for your boss?
- He were a fixer.

Odd job man.

Iranian, weren't he?

Had the lingo.
Translated things for Craig.

What... What stuff did he translate?

Listen up, lad.

I'm skivvy on the bins,
not top dog in boardroom.

People wanna know where I am.

Wes?

Yeah. I'm on my way.

Yeah, yeah. Yeah.

Fancy seeing you here.

I saw you texting about Stockport.

Smart of you to track my personal phone.

Was that signed off?

No, I had a pal at
Cheltenham do me a favour.

No warrant, off books. My kind of girl.

And there's me thinking you wanted
my number so we could be friends.

This is my case now, my responsibility.

I'm carrying the can,

so I do actually need to know
what you've got yourself into.

- You're a terrible liar, you know.
- Yeah.

But I don't wanna be responsible
for missing a terrorist attack.

- Do you?
- Mm.

Who was that young guy?

That guy has got information on
the whereabouts of Ehsan's wife.

So, where did you link with him?

You should be following leads.
This is your case now.

Look, we're not supposed to be here.

I just want to find Ehsan's wife to
see if she's got anything to tell us

about the threat to national security.

But I promise you, if she even suspects

her husband's stolen Beeston's
drugs, then I'll walk away.

OK, fine.

But I'm in charge, yeah?

You got your press pass?

Yep.

Salam.

May I help you?

Yes. We're from The Guardian.

Looks like you've created a
real focus for the community here.

We've tried to make it home for
those who fled the regime in Iran.

What do you want?

We're working on a story about
the murder of Ehsan Taremi.

I know nothing of Ehsan
Taremi. I tell everyone who comes.

Has Craig Beeston been in here?

No, not him.

I wonder what a family man
like Ehsan Taremi would be doing

working for Beeston?

Everyone knows why
Beeston needs Iranians.

He needs men that speak Farsi.

He needs officials
on the Iranian border.

They get a cut, and Beeston
gets a more direct, secure supply

of his Afghan product.

There are some who think

that this may be about more
than just the drugs trade.

You know his wife Mona
Taremi has gone missing?

Now, if Mona could shed some
light on Beeston's criminal operation,

it may help to bring some
justice for her husband.

Anything occurs to you,
would you give me a ring?

We've got company.

Do you have another way out?

- Who is it?
- Don't know.

- You ready?
- Yeah.

Get in the car.

Get in the fucking car now!

In!

So, who are you, then?

Eh? Sniffing about, causing
a nuisance for yourself.

You've got our IDs, you know who we are.

Oh, yeah, yeah. But we know all
the crime reporters in the North.

We even know some of them down south.

Why you meeting up with our Ehsan?

We're from The Guardian.

We're writing a story about the
drugs trade in the North West.

I can smell the shite.

You're fucking dibble, then?
Are you fucking dibble?

Honestly, we're writing about
heroin coming from Afghanistan

over the Iranian border into
Turkey and then onto England.

I don't know what you
think I know about that?

You see, round here belongs to us.

It's ours.

This is our patch.

I'm sorry. It's rude of us. We apologise.

I can't hear you.

I'm sorry. It's rude of us. We apologise.

Hey... what do you think, Jord?

You had a good look at
him down in that London.

Didn't you?

- Eh?
- He's not dibble.

He were so boring.

He's a journalist.

Hm.

Did Ehsan say owt to you?

No, your gunman made sure of that.

Whoa, that's fucking libel, that.

- OK, whoa.
- That's fucking libel.

Hey, hey.

He didn't work for me.

Pfff.

I'd like to know who killed our Ehsan.

See, privacy is very important
to me, Mr and Mrs Journalist.

What did our Ehsan say?

He was killed before
he could say anything.

Nah.

I bet he was all blab,
blab, blab, wasn't he?

See what happens to people

who think they're bigger
than they are, Jordan?

Go shooting their mouth off.

Really tragic things happen to them.

Sad things.

You speak to our Ehsan's wife?

We'd like to, but we don't
know where Mona Taremi is.

Hm.

Go on, fuck off.

Fuck off!

If I see you round here again,
you won't be fucking walking home.

Come on.

Fucking journos.

Go on, fuck off back down south.

Ugh, last one's gone.

Come on.

You sure you're OK sharing?
Behave yourself.

I will if you will.

The last room's the last room, right?

Thanks for backing me today.

That's OK.

Ehsan's brains were
blown all over my face.

You know, I need to know why.

It's a hard thing, to take a human life.

Have you?

According to the
philosopher Immanuel Kant,

no human life may ever
be taken for any reason,

even if one's own life's threatened.

Are you calling me a Kant?

You recruited Jordan
in London, didn't you?

Did you catch him surveilling you?

I'm wondering how Beeston
knew that I was in touch with Ehsan.

- If your cover's been blown...
- My cover hasn't been blown.

- Did you tell Ehsan where you live?
- No, of course not.

And a service team securely got you out

from the location
where Ehsan was killed?

Yes.

So when and where did you
understand Jordan was surveilling you?

I wouldn't use that term.

He was... more loitering
in my back garden.

- That's a massive, massive deal.
- Mm-hm.

It's a major fuck up, John.

- Ehsan was the real deal.
- But you don't know that.

Yes, I took a risk using my
personal phone to contact Ehsan.

John, you can't use your personal phone

to communicate with a source.

So that's how Beeston got your address.

Can we just keep this between us,

at least until we get a
better read of the situation?

What's "dibble"?

It's slang for "copper".

Officer Dibble, Top Cat. You not seen it?

It's a good show.

Must be an old show, right?

Cartoon.

Good night.

Hello?

'Hello, it's Sardar,
from the Persian Centre.

'I know where Mona Taremi is.'

Where?

Mona?

Mona?

Mona?

We're not here to harm you!

- I was there when Ehsan was killed.
- We're here to protect you.

I took down the man who
murdered your husband.

- Are you police?
- No.

We work for the security services.

Why were you with Ehsan when he died?

He had important information
about an attack on this country.

But he was murdered before he
could tell us what he wanted to.

- So he was trying to do something good?
- Yes, I think so.

Have you any idea what
it was he wanted to tell us?

He was vague. He said
we had to leave the area.

The day he died, he told
me to pack to leave quickly.

What can you tell us about the
work he did for Craig Beeston?

He wouldn't talk to me about
it much cos I didn't approve.

But before he died,

I heard him arguing with
someone about The General.

The General?

Mona...

..we're trying to find
out who murdered Ehsan

and bring some justice
to you and your daughters.

If there's any information you
have which could help us with that,

anything...

Negin.

I don't know the password.

'The secretary of Iran's

'Supreme National
Security Council added...'

- Thank you.
- Bye.

Bye. Oh, hi, John.
You looking for Claire?

- Oh, yeah.
- She's just finished.

Brilliant. How are you?
How's that lovely wife of yours?

- Oh, unfortunately, we've separated.
- Ah.

She's living in our place in Spain.

Well, at least she's got the weather.

- I know.
- Close the door.

I'm sorry. I get it.

I thought you were supposed
to be taking some leave?

I am. But I was needed at work.

Were you on the job on
your own or with a colleague?

I was with a colleague.

Was it the colleague you were texting

during our marriage counselling session?

Yes, it was her.

A woman.

Yes, I work with women.
You work with men.

The last train to London
had been and gone.

Where did you stay?

Oh, just in some crummy
little hotel in Manchester.

Why are you being like this?

Did anything happen?

How are things meant to get
any better if you don't trust me?

You have to earn my trust.

I'm still waiting on that report.

What are you doing here?
You're meant to be on leave.

I've come in for a trauma
mitigation workshop with Wellness.

Well, perhaps the leopard does
sometimes change his spots.

You never know, Gregory.

This is really unacceptable.

'Now, in the 21st century,

'Iranian women can
still be killed or tortured.

'The British Government must act
now against this tyrannical regime.'

That's Fatemah Feyzi.
She runs Persia Live UK.

Yeah, Ehsan's got loads more of
her on here, and it's all encrypted.

But why's a gangster's translator

stalking a prominent Iranian dissident?

Maybe they're getting
a fix on her whereabouts

before they organise
a targeted proxy attack.

But the information
Ehsan Taremi provided

was about an event where a
lot of people could get killed.

Fatemah's giving a talk at the
university in Liverpool next week.

What if they're targeting that?

General.

'How are the preparations?
Any problems?'

There's been one or two
wrinkles, but nothing I can't handle.

'I hear there was a
problem with a journalist.

'Don't fuck this up, Craig.
You won't get your ten million.'

I won't. I'll do whatever I need to do.

There'll be casualties, but
that's what you want, isn't it?

To make a splash.

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