All language subtitles for The Sandbaggers S2 E1 - At All Costs

Morning, Diane.

Morning, Willie.

Is the boss free?

He's not in yet.

Where is he?

I don't know, but...

it's exactly a year today.

Since what?

Berlin.

Oh, Berlin.

I'd forgotten.

A year's a long time.

I was there.

She was my number two.

I suppose he's alright, is he?

He's not at home, I rang him.

Does he ever mention her?

Not since...

The East Germans refused
to release the body.

Morning, Diane.

Morning.

Hello, Willie.
-Morning.

You coming in?
-Mm.

I've only just remembered.

What?

Laura.

It's a year ago today, isn't it?

Well, we can't live our
lives looking backwards.

No.

Why are you late, then?

Well, I've not been to
Berlin to lay a wreath,

if that's what you think.

We've two other sandbaggers now,

they can't be expected to operate

in the shadow of Laura Dickens.

No. I wanted to talk to
you about the Sandbaggers.

D-Ops.

Duty Ops Officer, sir.

We've had a flash signal,
top-secret from Sofia station.

Will you come down,
or can I have it brought up?

Get it walked, Sam.

Top secret from Sofia station.

Run out of typewriter ribbons.

Lacks precedent.

It's got to be trouble, hasn't it?

Yes...

What were you saying about sandbaggers?

Yes, can I put Mike

into the special section duty roster now?

He's been here three months.

No.

Boss, Tom and I are still
working weekends, one in two.

It's a hell of a drag.

I'm not taking the risk.

Of what?

Of losing another sandbagger.

The duty sandbagger's gotta
be able to tackle anything.

You can, Tom Elliot can,

but Mike needs two or three more trips.

Alright,
will you look after this?

Willie...

A year ago tonight, in Berlin,

you gave me a real tongue-lashing.

Mm.
-Because you were

the last one left.

I don't ever want to
get back to that again.

Come in, Bruce.

Excuse me, sir.

Oh, thank you.

Sandbagger Two?

In the hutch.

Sandbagger three.

Mike?

Yes sir?

Ask Tom to come up, would you?

Roger, sir.

Boss wants you.

Every time I try to nip
out to the laundrette.

I've got socks in there

that would be banned by
the Geneva Convention.

I'll shoot any that try to run away.

Make sure Sandbagger
Two's fully documented.

Sam's got that in hand, sir.

Okay.

Vladimir Galabov.

Head of Bulgarian Secret Service.

Mm, well, he's made
contact with Sofia station.

He's willing to pass us some
highly sensitive material,

provided that Tom goes
out to collect it tonight.

What?

Oh, thanks Diane.
-Thank you.

Look, could you get hold of the pack

on the Bulgarian Secret Service,

and anything on its chief.

He's a man called Galabov.

Right, Sandbagger Two's here.

Wheel him in.

Go in, please.

Morning, sir.

Morning Tom, grab a chair, will you?

Does the name Vladimir
Galabov mean anything to you?

Rings a vague bell.

Can't think where.

Well, you did a job in
Bulgaria, what, three months ago?

M-hm, just before
Mike joined the section.

Why me?

Did you come across

any Bulgarian Secret Service

when you were there?

Not to my knowledge.

It was a nothing job.

The contact didn't show.

The chief of the
Bulgarian Secret Service

suddenly decides to hand
us a list of his agents

operating abroad.

And what else?

And other items of
similar classification

and sensitivity.

And insists on a meeting personally

with a named sandbagger to hand it over.

A sandbagger that he's never met.

Yes, but demands a short-notice,

take-it-or-leave-it rendezvous

at 11:15 local tonight,

in the middle of Sofia?

It's got to be a set up.

But for what reason?

Duty Ops Officer.

Sam, D-Ops here,

could you get onto all
the Warsaw Pact desks,

and check that we're not holding anyone

the Soviets might want back.

Roger, sir.

Oh, and Sam, what's the
last flight to Sofia today?

13:40?

Thanks.

Do you think it could be an exchange?

If it's a set up.

Well, if it's not,

it's birthday and
Christmas time all at once.

Yes, that's what worries me.

There's gonna be a lot of pressure

from the sixth floor to go for this.

Maybe we should.

Ah, too many question marks.

Why should he ask for you by name?

He's bound to know the names

of the three sandbaggers.

Maybe he just chose the one in the middle.

Sandbagger Two.

Why a sandbagger at all?

May not want to risk a meet

with a head of station, but a

special section officer,

trained to make rendezvous unobserved.

It's a possibility.

But the question is

why Galabov should suddenly want

to spread the name of his
agents round the place.

Could be feeding duff gen.

Well, it's not a very subtle
way to go about it, is it?

Latest on Galabov and
an appreciation by D-Int.

Paper 14.

Thank you.

Galabov's a hard liner.

Almost certainly behind
the umbrella murder

in London, September ' 78,

and the attacks elsewhere

on prominent Bulgarian
broadcasters and journalists.

And this same man wants
to sell out his agents?

Peele here.

Burnside, sir.

Have you seen the signal
from Sofia station?

The red folder, do you have it?

Yes, can I come up now?

Fine.

Thank you.

Right, Tom, assume you're
departing Heathrow at 13:40.

Do a full briefing.

Roger, sir.

Willie...

Take charge down there, will you?

Make sure he knows Sofia
like the back of his hand.

Let him see some pictures of Galabov,

and then get onto the station
to provide a bolt-hole.

Tell them they can leave the
key to it at Sofia Airport,

but they're to pass the address
to us here by secret signal.

I don't like this at all.

Neither do I, and I told you,

I'm not gonna lose another sandbagger.

If we're not happy, he doesn't go.

Alright.

Diane, I'll be with the Deputy Chief.

Right.
-Oh, could you get onto the US Embassy,

find out if Ross is there.

If he is, ask him to come over.

If not, I'll meet him
half-way, usual place.

At what time?

10:20, but tell him it's urgent.

Right.

Come!

Morning, Neil.
-Morning.

Take a chair.
-Thank you, sir.

I've er...

asked D-Int to join us.
-Good.

Peculiar business.

Yes, I'm not very happy about it.

Peele here.

Duty Ops Officer, sir.

Is D-Ops with you?

He is, do you want to speak,

or can I take a message?

Right.

Duty Ops Officer.

We aren't holding anyone who'd
be likely exchange material.

I can't think of any other reason

why it should be a set up.

You think it is?

I don't know, but we're being hustled.

Galabov made contact with
the station this morning,

wants a pick-up tonight.

He could be twitched.

Could be he's legitimate,

of course there's no way of telling.

Come!

Sir?
-Ah!

Morning, Neil.

Morning, Edward.

Ah, sit down, Edward.

Now then.

What do you think of this one?

I think it could be straight, sir.

Your note in the pack said

that Galabov's a hard line professional.

He is, and that's why
the skids may be under him.

Because of the Markov business?

Markov in London, Kostov in Paris,

Bankov in Los Angeles,
and some others since.

Well, what about them?

Well, they've shown the
Bulgarian Secret Service

up for what it is,

a bunch of unsophisticated,
short-sighted hoodlums.

It's all rebounded on
the Council of State.

Bad for trade, bad for tourism.

So what's Galabov up to?

I'd say taking out insurance.

He'll want to stay on, retire in Sofia

with his wife and kids.

But if it all gets too hot,

he'll have a foot in our door,

and he can always ask
us to haul him through.

But why is he insisting
on a pick-up tonight?

I think he's testing us.

Seeing how valuable he is.

If we're willing to pull all stops out,

get a sandbagger to the place

and at the time he specified.

He'll be a VIP in our eyes.

Exactly, and he can be just as sure

that if ever he wants to defect,

we'll move heaven and earth to get him.

And asking for Sandbagger Two by name?

Elliot's worked in Bulgaria.

Could have come to
Galabov's notice that way.

And by insisting on a sandbagger,

he ensures he doesn't get
a dummy at the pick-up.

I think so.

If he fixed to pass things
to the head of station,

he'd be running a big risk.

Heads of station aren't used to it.

Would start playing at spies.

Hm...

Well, I don't know.

It's a bit like defining

the origin of the Universe, isn't it?

You can make the facts
fit any theatre you like.

You worried about a set up?

It's a possibility, isn't it?

I mean, Galabov's jumped in,

demanded a rendezvous this evening,

Too short a time for us
to debate it properly.

And with the chief of their secret service

suddenly offering irresistible stuff.

But if he wanted a prize,

wouldn't he have named Willie Caine

instead of Elliot?

Sandbagger One instead of Sandbagger Two.

I think the key is in
what you've just said, Neil.

Irresistible stuff.

I don't see how we can pass it up.

I'd pass it up every time

against the liberty and
life of a sandbagger.

Well, this sort of thing is the reason

that we have a special section.

I think we've got to recommend

to C that we do it.

Certainly, we'd give several
right arms for the material.

Yes.

Right, let's initiate clearance

and get Elliot on his way.

I am doing a cross-check with the CIA.

Well, don't tell them
more than you have to.

If Galabov ever does decide to jump,

I'd rather he wasn't wooed away from us

by the Americans.

Yes, well I'd still like

a second assessment of the situation.

I think you'll find
that it agrees with ours.

That's what I'm afraid of.

They were hot at 10:20.

Sorry.

I gotta get goin' anyway.

My ambassador's teaching me

how to use a knife and a fork.

Vladimir Galabov, Chief
of Service, Bulgaria.

The guy who shoots first

and worries about publicity afterwards.

Which may have dropped
him in the proverbial

with his masters.

He's offering us a load of goodies.

I'd be real careful.

I'd like to be,

but he's demanded a rendezvous tonight

and named Tom Elliot as the pick-up.

When did he make the offer?

This morning.

He staged a minor car accident
with the station number two,

and made the offer
while they were haranguing each other.

Want me to check him out
with the folks back home?

Yes, I'd like to know

if he's out of favour with
the Council of State.

Now you probably won't have an answer

before Tom's gotta leave,

but I can still stop him
running at the other end.

Okay.

Suppose you've already
thought about a set-up.

Maybe a spy swap?

We're not holding anyone worth swapping.

Could be legit.
-Could be.

But if it isn't,

Tom's gonna find out the hard way.

Yeah.

Well, I gotta get goin'.

So have I.

Neil, I'm sorry, I totally
forgot what day it was.

Hard to believe it's
a year ago, isn't it?

Think you might need a friend tonight?

I'm alright.

It's lousy, isn't it?

Having to send somebody
in a year to the night?

It's worse than that.

Laura was Sandbagger Two.

Tom is Sandbagger Two.

Laura was killed just after 11 o'clock.

And Tom's rendezvous is for 11:15.

You're really worried, aren't you?

I'm determined, Jeff.

If I'm not satisfied
Galakbov's on the level,

I'm not letting Tom run.

Galabov's pretty heavy.

Your masters may force you.

Let them try.

So the rendezvous
is set for 22:15 our time,

23:15 in Sofia.

Morning, sir.

Morning, Sam.

SitRep?

Operation code name is Golden Eagle.

Sandbagger Two departs
Heathrow at 13:40 alpha,

arrives Sofia International
via Brussels at 19:15 bravo.

on arrival, Sandbagger Two will find

a key waiting for him, for a bolt-hole.

He'll collect that--

Is the bolt-hole fixed?

Not yet, sir.

We passed the requirement to station,

told them we want the
address of it by noon.

They won't be daft enough

to leave the address with the key.

I've double-checked.

He'll collect the key
and he'll make his way

to the Hotel Sofia, where
he's got a reservation.

There'll be absolutely no
pre-pick-up contact with the station.

Good.

Are you happy to be unarmed?

Prefer it, sir.

Well, we did discuss it, didn't we?

We thought of getting the station

to leave a gun for him at
a drop somewhere, but--

But if it does go badly,

or I get picked up on a police check,

a gun could only make bigger trouble.

Agreed.

The rendezvous with
Galabov is as signalled.

It's a small street behind
Narodno Sabranie Square,

at 23:15 local time.

If all goes well,
I collect the material,

return to my hotel,

and take the 14:25 British
Airways flight out tomorrow.

And the bolt-hole?

If for any reason he's unhappy about

returning to the hotel,

then he'll use the bolt-hole.

It's then at his discretion

whether or not he takes
tomorrow's flight out,

or waits until he's
relieved of the papers.

Station Number Two will ring
the hotel at midnight local.

Public phone, short, sharp,

no identification beyond
a fictitious name.

Right.

If all's well, Sandbagger Two will say

that he was not asleep, but
if he hasn't got the papers,

that he was asleep.

Fine, now have you
seen pictures of Galabov'?

Yes, sir, I'll recognize him.

Good.

Now, how long will it take you to get

from your hotel room to the rendezvous?

I'd like to leave 15 minutes.

Right, then from your
arrival until 23:00

stay in your room.

If I want the mission aborted,

the station will phone you, and say,

"The weather forecast isn't
suitable for your plans."

Now if that happens, do nothing.

Just get a good night's sleep,

and come home tomorrow.

Understood, sir.

And if the station doesn't
contact you, you can run.

Got it.

Right, see me before you go.

Duty Ops Officer.

Sir

Roger.

C wants you, Sir.
-Right.

I'd like you to go
over to the Foreign Office,

have a chat with Wellingham.

Oh?

There seems to be some kind of hiccup

on political clearance for Golden Eagle.

Good, because I don't want to do it.

I've approved the operation, Neil,

on the recommendations of
the deputy chief and D-Int.

Yes, sir.

If Galabov is gonna come across

with a list of his agents,
it could save lives.

Perhaps some of our people's.

I've just got a bad feeling about this.

So has Wellingham, it seems.

Well, I better go over row, sir.

Elliot's got to...

Just a moment, Neil.

Sit down.

I didn't approve it lightly.

No, I'm sure of that, sir.

I know this is a bad moment, but er...

There's to be a temporary manning standard

imposed on the special section.

In what way?

The complement of sandbaggers

is to be reduced from three to two,

which means, in effect,

the first one to leave
will not be replaced.

We were guaranteed that cuts

wouldn't be greater than 10%,

that's 33-and-a-third, sir!
-The guarantee was 10%

across the board.

Well, where else am I going to be cut?

Mission planning?

The Ops room?
-Don't worry about it now.

The only reason I'm telling you

is that I think you should be

aware of the machinations.
-Sir?

It's the old story.

The special operations section

is deeply unloved in Whitehall.

Makes our masters nervous and uneasy.

A cut by 33-and-a-third
could be the thin edge

of a very large axe.

But you must have a say
in the matter, surely?

I have, but I need ammunition

to prove that the
sandbaggers are necessary.

And if you're going to
preserve them in cotton wool,

I won't get it.

Something to think about, Neil.

A couple of major successes,

real special operations
stuff like the Sofia job,

could be just what we need.

It would silence your critics,

allow us to breathe again.

I appreciate that, sir.

Then don't let Wellingham
talk you out of Golden Eagle,

just because it would be
easier for him to say no.

But are we sure the
Bulgarians aren't trying

to arrest a sandbagger?

We can't be sure, sir,

but we can't think of any
reason why they would.

We haven't got a Kroger

or a Lonsdale tucked away?
-No.

If I do get political clearance

and Elliot ends up on the front page

of the Sofia Morning Star...

I am conscious of the risks, sir.

Very conscious of them.

I thought you were lacking

some of your usual fire
and brimstone this morning.

You don't want to take it, do you?

Well, the intelligence
director seems to have

an explanation for every query.

Including Galabov's asking

for Elliot by name?

I was thinking about
that on the way over.

Elliot did a job in
Bulgaria three months ago.

Now, if he wasn't as clever
as he should have been,

or indeed, even if he was,

the Bulgarians could
have got pictures of him.

And Galabov would opt for the sandbagger

with the most recent photograph on file.

It would be logical, wouldn't it?

I mean, if he could recognize Elliot,

he could be sure that
he's putting the material

into safe hands.

Then you'd like me to get
clearance on the operation?

In the absence of anything
concrete against it, yes.

I wish you'd be more
enthusiastic about it..

We have to sell this
to the Prime Minister.

Well, I don't want to
put my sandbaggers at risk.

But on the other hand,
no one wants to lose out

on the chance of getting
Galabov's material.

Or the
possibility that Galabov,

if encouraged, might defect
to us at a later date.

There is that, too.

Alright.

What time does Elliot leave from Heathrow?

13:40.

Very well, I should think we can get

the Prime Minister's
decision on it before then.

I believe he's lunching
with members of the TUC.

Be interesting to see
what they have to say about

the sandbaggers' conditions of service.

Still fighting over their pay, are you?

I still don't think that
5,700 pounds a year is much.

Not for the man that's got to walk into

that Sofia street tonight.

Tom's fully
briefed, he's ready to go.

He'll be up in a few minutes.
-Hm...

I did another check with MI-5.
-Oh.

Yeah, I thought, if they were about to move

against some important Bulgarian

and thought that he might be at risk--

The Bulgarians might grab
Tom first as insurance?

Yeah, but Five are not on the move.

They are looking for
a couple of Bulgarians

but they can't find them.

Well, if Galabov's list is genuine,

we may be able to help.

Hm, that doesn't help
Tom though, does it?

There's no reason not to send him.

Not to send him, no.

But if the CIA assessment
doesn't tally with ours,

I'm not letting him run.

What do you mean?

Well, if the CIA say

that Galabov's got the skids
under him, Tom can run.

But if they say that Galabov's
still the hatchet man,

he doesn't leave his hotel.

Well, the operation's approved now.

I'll warn Peele before close of play,

but there's nothing he can do about it.

He doesn't know our recall arrangements,

and I'm certainly not gonna tell him.

But he'll murder you.

It's better than getting Tom killed.

I did think of going out with Tom,

but it's a bit dodgy.

Much too dodgy.

If we don't do exactly
as Galabov's instructed,

he'll get twitched and pull out.

Alright, Willie.

Diane?

Yes?
-Is Tom out there yet?

Yes, he is.
-Send him in.

I'll see him alone.

All set?

Ready, if not entirely willing.

I was gonna say,

if you get unhappy in any
way, to abort the mission,

but you'll probably say you're
unhappy now, and go home.

I'm alright, sir.

See you tomorrow evening.

That's a date.

Good luck.
-Thanks.

Evening, sir, I'm just going out

to get a sandwich for Willie and myself.

Wondered if you wanted anything?

Why don't you go home?

There's nothing you can do.

Yes, I know, but er...

They also serve who
only stand and wait, huh?

Yes.

Matter of luck, I suppose.
-What?

That it was Tom who was named.

You're not saying, I hope,

that you wish you'd been named?

Oh no, I'd be scared, but...

In a way, it's easier to
go than to stay, isn't it.

How do you think I feel

as an ex-sandbagger with
three of you charging off round the world.

Sir, this temporary
manning standard, I...

Well, we won't be getting rid of you.

Unless of course you bring
back lousy sandwiches.

Double round, cheese and butter, hm?

Right, sir.

D-Int.

Edward, it's Neil.

Could I meet you in Peele's
office in a couple of minutes?

Surely.

Thank you.

Peele here.

Burnside, sir.

Could I come up and see
you, and bring D-Int?

Yes, alright.

Thank you, sir.

Come!

Are you nocturnal, Neil?
-Sir?

You always want to start the day's
business when I want to go home.

We do have a special
operation underway, sir.

Not something one can explain
to the local bridge club.

Come!

Don't you ever go home?

You're a bridge player too, are you?

Sorry?

Let's get on with it, shall we?

Yes, sir.

As you know, I've asked the CIA

for their assessment of Galabov.

His current standing in
the Council of State.

Yes?

Well, if it doesn't agree
with Edward's assessment,

I'm going to abort the mission.

You mean you'd like
to abort the mission.

Yes, sir.

Well, I've told you, I'll be surprised

if the assessments conflict.

But if they do, if one
casts doubt on the other,

I don't want Tom to run.

What would you tell C?

Wellingham?

The Prime Minister?

The truth!

That we've had late intelligence

pointing to an increased risk of a set-up.

The fact remains

that the Prime Minister
approved the operation

on the SIS assessment.

That isn't going to change?

That's like standing in
the middle of a blizzard

and saying, "It isn't snowing,"

because the weather
forecast promised sunshine.

What I am saying is
that we should consult

the Foreign Office at
least, before we abort.

There may not be time, sir.

Neil, I appreciate the dilemma,

but let's not overlook the
importance of those documents.

If I was overlooking that,

I wouldn't have sent him at all.

No!

I don't think we can cancel now.

Not without a much more definite reason.

Sir, I've come to report,
that if I'm not happy,

I'm going to abort the job.

That's not a decision you can take.

I've made arrangements to take it.

Sorry?
-I've got clearance procedure

worked out with Elliot,
independent of the station.

Yes?
-No one else knows it,

and I'm not going to divulge it.

I'll be in the outer
office if anyone needs me.

I've warned you before

about squabbling in front of other people.

I'm not squabbling,
sir, I'm stating facts.

You haven't the authority
to abort that mission

on a CIA assessment.

No, but I do have the means.

At this moment, you are
very close to being fired.

I'm not sure I care, sir.

If you abort that mission
without my approval, or C's,

I'll have you out of here within 24 hours.

Understood, sir.

Why are you two still on watch, anyway?

We thought we'd see it through, sir.

Thank you.

Sir.
-Thanks, Mike.

Two hours until he leaves the hotel.

We can count.

Duty Ops Officer.

Yes, put him on.

Mr Ross, sir.

Jeff?
-Neil?

I got your answer for you.

Looks like the fat cat over there

really is in trouble,

could be on the level.

Or he could be attempting
to recoup his reputation

with a major event, at our expense.

Well, there's only one way to find out.

Look, I'll bring
the signal over to you

on the way home, okay?

Yes, thanks.

Mm, see you in what, half an hour?

Okay.

Good night, Jeff.

Yeah.

No, "Good night, Karen."

Are you okay?

You find me praying, lady.

Problem?

Not ours -- thank God.

Sandbagger Two, clear to run.

Roger, sir.

Do not move or we will shoot!

Stay where you are!

Tell them that we want
every detail as they get it.

Well?
-Nothing else, sir.

Only there was a shooting
at the rendezvous.

Did they take him?

We don't know, sir, nor
if he's alive or dead.

Sir, why set him up, just to kill him?

Yeah, that's true,
it gives us some hope.

Alright, let's inform Number 10,

the FCO desk, and D-Int.

You'd better call in C
and the deputy chief,

and alert Wellingham.

Sir.

Can you put that in hand for me, Mike?

Yeah, sure.

Tonight's whereabouts sheets.

Duty Ops Officer.

He was not killed,

he is not, repeat, not in custody.

Roger.

He was not killed,
and he's not in custody.

Ahh...

The bolt-hole.

If he could make it.

What's the next flight to Sofia?

There's only one tomorrow, sir.

It's um...

Departs Heathrow at
09:45, direct to Sofia,

Flight BA712.

09:45

Affirmative, sir.

Right, Sandbagger One to go,

false name, false
passports, fully documented.

I don't care if they've
got to stay up all night

and do it by hand.

Roger, sir.

They can do the same for me.

You, sir?
-Correct.

Can you come with us, Jeff?

What for?

Well, I want to operate

totally independent of the station.

You'll have to.

It's going to be on a full surveillance,

waiting for Tom to make contact.

Or for them to go and
make contact with him.

Hmm.
-We'll need to be armed,

and we can't risk a drop.

You want me to draw guns
from my station in Sofia,

and pass them on to you guys?

Yes.
-I'd better get permission.

Call me at home with a
rendezvous, okay Neil?

Yes, thanks Jeff.

I don't like the idea
of you going out too.

Well, you're Sandbagger one,
if you object to my presence

at a special ops--

I don't object, of
course I don't object.

There are others who will.

Don't you enjoy the
flight, Sir Geoffrey?

Only with Air France, my dear.

Yes, thank you, I'll come in.

Abject apologies to my guests,

but I'm summoned to Whitehall.

He does this regularly.

Gets him out of the washing up.

Washing up is marginally more exciting

than late night meetings with the FCO.

But where's the station's
information coming from?

They've got a tame police officer,

but he wasn't at the rendezvous.

And he thinks that Elliot was hit?

Well, that's what the
Bulgarians are claiming.

Now, whether it's true

or they're just boosting their morale,

we don't know.

Making excuses, I should think.

Let's hope so.

And Elliot will have made for this...

What did you call it?

Bolt-hole, yes sir.

And what are you proposing?

Caine and myself. to go out
on tomorrow morning's flight.

You?

I'd like to take personal charge

of the mission, sir, out there.

That's not a good idea, Neil.

It's Caine's job to go,

but I can't have my
D-Ops in a live theatre.

I agree, and I won't approve it.

We'll be on false
passports with false names--

Even so, the Bulgarians are
going to be jumpy out there,

and if they jump on you, you've got

8 1/2 years, is it,

of detailed operational knowledge?

Your time as D-Ops would be enough.

And knowledge of every station and
every operation current in the world.

I appreciate that, sir,

but because it's a live theatre,

Caine will need someone to watch his back.

Especially when he goes to the bolt-hole.

Send Sandbagger Three.

He's too inexperienced
for this one, sir.

In my opinion, Neil's right.

In these circumstances,
he should go himself.

Thank you, sir.

I'm sorry, Matthew.

Neil needs Foreign Office
permission to go abroad,

and I won't grant it.

Gentlemen, a year
ago tonight, in Berlin,

I lost my previous
sandbagger, Laura Dickens.

She was shot dead a yard or
two in front of me in Berlin.

And I vowed then I would
never lose another sandbagger.

Now, I'm gonna go to Bulgaria tomorrow,

whether I go as the
operations director of SIS,

or as the former operations director.

What would be your plan?

We have the address of the bolt-hole.

We'll get a spare key
to it at the airport.

And much as I hate guns,

I feel we need to be armed for this.

The CIA will provide us weapons,

totally independent of our station.

That would be sensible.

I'll cover Caine while
he goes to the bolt-hole.

That way, if the Bulgarians
have got it staked out,

they should only get one of us.

And if it's clear?

I'll make a decision on that

when I see what state Elliot's in.

You may need station
help to get him out.

We do have CIA back up.

Alright, Neil.

Against my better judgment...

Thank you, sir.

But this is an order.

Get him out quietly, Neil.

Very quietly.

Now if a special op
comes up while we're away,

you'll have to take it.
-Yes, sir.

You'll be tasked by the deputy chief.

Now, you've heard Willie and Tom

say all manner of things about him,

most of them uncomplimentary.

Yes, sir.

Well, they're not true.

He's very experienced,

and he's seen it all before.

The present C is probably

the best we've had in 10 years.

Now listen to them, and
mark what they have to say.

But remember, neither of
them has been a sandbagger.

They may ask more than
you feel able to give.

I'll do my best, sir.

Fine, then try and do more than that.

There are no James Bonds
in this business, Mike.

No charmed lives.

You're an officer of the
Secret Intelligence Service.

Highly trained, and very
difficult to replace.

I understand.

Okay.
-Thank you, sir.

Good luck, sir.

No sign of a tail on you.

Nor on you.

It's about time.

Where you guys been, anyway?

Checking for followers.

It's a bit nerve-wracking.

Wandering around Sofia like Billy the Kid.

Terrific, has anybody told you guys

that TWA changed its livery
about five years ago?

You told us to supply a TWA grip,

measuring 14 by 11.

Yeah, well that thing you've
got's a collector's item.

Well, it's yours now,
so stop complaining.

We'll see you back here at 16:30, okay?

Yep.

Hey, you guys take a lot of care.

Have you got a light?

Looks clear.

Regroup at the other end of the street?

Yes.

I can't move.

Don't, don't lift me very far.

Under the mattress.
-Where?

Foot of the bed.

These look genuine.

Yeah, it...

It was Galabov...

at the rendezvous.

It wasn't a set-up?

No...

They're letting him hang himself.

Well, D-Int and CIA were right.

He was buying insurance.

His own people were on to him.

Maybe the cop rang station number two.

If they were already suspicious.

Come on, let's get you cleaned up.

No, don't move me.

Where are you hit?

In the back.

It's not much of a wound.

Bleeding's stopped,
clothes have sealed it.

But...

Bullet must have clipped the spine.

It moved, I got in here,

paralysed.

Paralysed?

Everything, just my head and my right arm.

Leave your gun, will you?

On my right hand side.

Don't be bloody silly, Tom.

Who's gonna move me?

Bulgarians?

Burnside's here.

We'll work something out.

Willie!

Tom, don't give up, not now.

I'm scared...

I know.

Then we've got to move him.

We can't, we'd kill him.

He's gonna die anyway if he stays there.

He's paralysed.
The bullet's exposed the spine.

He'd be dead before we
lift him of the blankets.

Even if we managed it, he'd
never survive a journey.

Then we've no choice.

One of us has got to go to the Bulgarians,

ask for help.

Wasn't the order to avoid
a diplomatic incident?

At all costs?

Not at this cost.

What if we go to the Bulgarians?

I mean, at best, he's paralysed for life.

At the worst,

they'll put him against
the wall and shoot him.

I'm not losing another sandbagger.

I know how you feel.

You have no idea how I feel.

I saw Laura killed too, you know.

I've just spoken to Tom.

I watched him weep.

He's dying in a stinking bedsitter,

1200 miles from home,

lying there in his own urine,

excrement, because he can't move.

He was just begging
for a gun to finish it.

Don't talk to me about feelings.

I've got the envelope,
that's the important thing.

I think the least we can do
for Tom is to get it clear.

Yes.

Get it to Ross, will you?

Tell him to put it in the embassy bag.

We'll pick it up in London.

And what are you gonna do?

Go back and see Tom.

Give me your word you
won't go to the Bulgarians?

Give me the key.

I'll go back.
-Key, Willie.

What are you gonna do?

End it for him.

I'll see you back here.

Let me go.

You said it yourself, Willie.

The important thing's the envelope.

Has Ross got the envelope?

He was dead when I got there.

He'd dragged himself off the bed.

Jesus.

Come on Willie, it's gonna rain.