All language subtitles for the saint S05E17 The Death Game

"Do you ever get that swift,
eerie stab of sudden fear?

Your well-known sixth sense
warning you that somewhere,

hidden in the fog, eyes watch?

Danger lurks."

"You have been gassed, taken an
arrow through your head...

..been shot with
a .38 calibre bullet...

..and this is your killer speaking.

You are now the famous but dead
Simon Templar."

Oh, you always overdo things.

Mr Templar, would you like some tea?

Well, it does seem the logical
next step.

Well, if you come with me,
I'll try and explain things.

I suppose we'd better
introduce ourselves.

I'm Jenny Turner and this is Grey
Wyler, we're psychology students.

Bottom of the class, I presume.

We're playing a game called
the Death Game.

A nice, wholesome past-time.

Well, it's a bit kinky
but it's very in.

Grey gets carried away.
Do you want some milk?

No arsenic?
That's very funny.

Players are divided into two groups,
hunters and victims.

And the victims are told they're on
somebody's death list.

It certainly beats the boy scouts.
Thanks.

You get two points if your kill is
technically brilliant,

you get one if it's only effective.

If you kill an innocent bystander,
you lose two points.

And the person to get ten points is
called a decathlon winner.

Mm, you get a prize too.
Groovy, isn't it?

We're all crazy about it.

So the whole student body is buzzing
with homicidal ingenuity.

That's just about it.

And where do I fit in?

Bill Bast named you as a victim.

He bet me �10 I couldn't kill
the great Simon Templar.

I thought it would be much more
difficult.

I'll try to do better next time.

And who is Bill Bast?

Don't worry, you'll meet him.

Come on, drink up
cos we have to hurry.

Hurry where, or is that a secret?

Oh, Mr Templar, you've been an absolute sport
up to now, couldn't you just string along?

Jenny, I'm yours to command.

Check the lights.

We want you to do us
a tremendous favour.

We're having a party tonight.
End of term bash.

And we're giving Death Game prizes.
Or rather you are.I am?

Come on, say you will.

What is that?

This is my taxi. I designed it.

Very high originality quotient,
is our Jenny.

To say the least.

Hey, Bill. We've got him.

And you owe me �10. A two-point
killing. Very ingenious.

Mr Simon Templar, this is our assistant
lecturer in psychology Mr Bill Bast.

How do you do?I've been looking
forward to this, Mr Templar.

I take it they have filled you in on
the Death Game.

Most intriguing.

Hey look. This is Hamlet with a
Beatle haircut. Isn't he super?

Hey, Bill, Einstein's
heating up a bit.

Yes, I know. That's why I took the
doors off the back.

We use the computer
in playing the game.

Feed in data on the psychological
make-up of the players

so the hunters and victims can be
evenly matched.

You kids better get over
to the hide out.

Oh, golly, I've got to help Marilyn
with the decorating.

Grey, are you coming?
Yeah.

Mr Templar, you won't forget about
tonight, will you?

The prize giving's at 11 o'clock.
It's a date.

I think you're super.

Mr Templar, getting you here
was my idea.

I had a bet with Grey Wyler.
Yes, I know.

The fact is, something terribly
strange is going on.

To say the least.

I don't mean the Death Game,
that's harmless enough.

Everybody has a laugh,
nobody gets hurt.

Then what's the problem?
The problem?

The problem is I'm scared. I think -

Ah, Bast.

Not at the party?

I'm going in a minute.
This is Mr Simon Templar.

Dr Manders, head of the psychology
department.Dr Manders.

How do you do?

They seem to be recovering
all right.

Not THE Simon Templar?

The man the call The Saint?
I'm afraid so.

He's giving the prizes tonight.

Oh, really?

You - You don't mind, do you?

Well, I think I might have been
consulted.

Dr Manders, if there's any problem,
I'd be happy to withdraw.

Mr Templar, please.
No, that's quite all right.

Just give me a few moments,
I'll come myself.

Thank you. Thank you.

As I've already said, it's a great
pleasure for me to be here

and thank you all for inviting me.

Well, now we come to the Death Game.

First prize, the victim Alastair
Davison, will you stand up, please?

Alastair's hunter, with the highest
score of ten points, Grey Wyler.

Rather simple, actually.

Alastair has ambitions
to be a writer.

I knew that he had an electric
typewriter

and he'd spend a couple of hours
every day writing his, erm, stories.

I wired the typewriter's space bar
to a pen-light

concealed beneath the machine.

As soon as Alastair began typing,
the pen-light turned on.

Only...it wasn't a pen-light.

It was a laser beam.

In 11 seconds, it burned right
through his vital organs

to the spine, severing
the spinal nerve.

And he was dead.

Congratulations.

And now the Death Game second prize.

The victim Eleanor Night.
Is she here?

The hunter, Jenny Turner.

Thank you. I sent her a hairspray
atomiser for her birthday.

And after she used it, she saw a
little note glued to the bottom

and it said, "You have been killed
with prussic acid gas.

Many happy returns of the day from
your hunter Jenny Turner."

The Death Game third prize.
Victim David Green.

The hunter, Bill Bast.

Well, I wrote David a letter on
coloured stationery criticising his work.

Which happens to be excellent,
I might say.

But at the end I put, erm,
let me think...

"For the last two minutes, you have
been handling paper

impregnated with a deadly contact
poison, phenylhydrazine.

This is spreading through your
system. You are now dead.

This is your hunter saying yours
eternally."

Up until now, I gather the nature of
the prizes has been kept secret.

So, here to tell you about them
is Dr Manders.

I've had a special grant from the
British Foundation

for the Advancement of Psychological
Research.

�500.

Now, this will be used to send the
three prize-winners

on a week's expenses-paid holiday
in Switzerland.

I have the air tickets and the hotel
bookings.

And Grey Wyler, Jenny Turner
and Bill Bast

will be leaving for Zurich
at three o'clock tomorrow.

You don't seem very pleased.

I'm not.
Why not tell me about it.

Back at the lab.

You leave now, I'll join you in a
few minutes.

Anybody see you come in here?

I don't think so. Does it matter?

Look, I may be manufacturing a big,
dramatic fantasy out of nothing,

but...well, six months ago, almost
to a day,

this Death Game craze broke out
at universities

all over the Western world. Here,
Canada, America, France, Germany.

The next minute,
everybody's playing it.

Do you think that's ominous?
Yes.Why?

Well, first the British Foundation for
the Advancement of Psychological Research

didn't provide any grant of �500.

Manders said they did.
He's lying.

How do you know?Simple. I went to
the Foundation and asked.

They didn't know
what I was talking about.

And there's something else. About -
About a month ago,

I was in Manders flat. He went to
the kitchen to get some beer.

I happened to notice a letter lying
on his desk.

It was quite short. It asked Manders for,
"A full report on Death Game activities."

And it was signed by Adolf Vogler.

Well, where was the letter from?

Zurich.Did you say anything
to Manders?

No. He came back with a beer and...

Well, you don't admit you've been
reading other people's mail.

Besides, he's head of the
department. I just work here.

But get this, 24 students are flying
to Zurich tomorrow.

24, from all over the world.

Hm. You want to know
who's paying the freight.

I certainly do.

Vogler?

Maybe.

Bill Bast. Hello?

Terrible.

Death Game's had the 'game' taken out
of it, hasn't it?

That's the point, it is a game.

Nobody could take it seriously.

You sent for me, Dr Manders?

It worked.

Of course, I knew it would.

It's got the most perfect safety
device.

Someone else, other than the victim
answers the phone

and you don't twang the tuning fork.

Is this a confession?

Confession?

Surely you don't think I had
anything to do with this, do you?

But he devised the whole idea.

Oh, Jenny, don't be so stupid.
Everybody in the club knew the trick.

Besides, what possible motive could
I have for killing poor old Bast?

You tell us.

You sound as if you're working for
Scotland Yard, Mr Templar.

Grey! Don't be difficult. This is a
terrible tragedy.

And what do you expect me to do
about it, burst into tears?

Why not save them for Scotland Yard?

They'll be most impressed.

It's two hours since they went with
the police.

What if Manders comes home and
catches us?

What we have to do won't take long.

Oh, you've broken into places
before, haven't you?

Often.Your hostility drive
must be enormous.

Gigantic but my affection index
is bigger.

What are you looking for?

This.

From Switzerland.

"Dear Manders. Enclosed is my draft
for �5,000.

Keep me informed. Good luck.
Adolf Vogler."

But he said �500. He said it came
from the Psychological Foundation.

He's a liar. It's that simple.
But why?

No idea.

Hey, look. That's odd.
What is?

Computer tapes. "Psychological
effects of Death Game on players".

"Incidents of schizophrenia
per 1,000 of population

in the age group of 18 to 25".
Don't ask me to interpret.

No, but the strange thing is, what
are these tapes doing here?

They're no use to anybody
without a machine.

And the nearest machine's in the lab.
Mm.

Then let's play Einstein
another visit.

Switch her on, Jenny. This may be
what Bill Bast was trying to tell me.

"In view of data, the..."
What's that?

That's short for 'assumption'.

"..assumption that the Death Game is
harmless is not true.

It could have a dangerous effect on
mentally unstable students.

All Death Game winners are given the
opportunity to visit Switzerland.

12% of this number never return to
their universities."

What does it mean?
Just what it says.

Impossible.12 out of every hundred students
that go to Switzerland never come back.

Ever?That's right.

What happens to them?

I don't know.
I do.

Well, then, why not tell us about it?

It's confidential.

Oh, like the letter
from Adolf Vogler?

I missed it the moment I got home.
And the tapes.

I knew it had to be you.

And now I'll have that letter,
please.

Well, I think not.

The letter, Templar.

You're right.

It isn't a game.

Simon!

Run for it, Jenny.

Aarrgghh!

Psychology.

Aggressive drive, hostility index,
my foot!

When I was a kid and got hostile,

my father gave me a belt across the
mouth and told me to mind my manners.

Which is why you're the cleverest
inspector in Scotland Yard.

Well, it had something
to do with it.

Discipline. Hard work.True.

And these kids are just a bunch of
jaded, irresponsible -

Not all of them.

No, not all of them.
Still, two murders.

One. Manders died quite accidentally.

And he killed Bill Bast
to stop him from talking.

You mean there's an international
plot behind the Death Game?

That's right.
But why?

Well, I know how I could find out.

How?

By going to Switzerland as Bill Bast.

I need my head examined.

That shouldn't be difficult, Claud.

From where I'm standing,
it's an open book.

So, if anyone asks me, I'm to say
you're Bill Bast.

That's right.

Well, you've huffed and puffed your
way to Switzerland,

let's see if you can hook and crook
through the Death Game.

If you ask me, you're 20 years
out of date.Does it show?

Hey, pal.

Be my guest.

Oh, thanks.
Excuse me.

Good luck.
Good hunting.

I'm Joe Halston. University of
California.

Los Angeles?That's right.

Neat, but, er, fabulous.

Bill Bast. London.
Glad to meet you.

Mr Halston, mind if I
ask you a question?

Call me Joe and ask for anything
but a loan.

Well, Joe, who paid your air fare
from Los Angeles to Zurich?

A psychology professor got a
scholarship from some foundation.

Why?Just curious.

Ladies and gentlemen,
your attention, please.

It is a great pleasure to be welcome
Death Game decathlon winners.

We hope that your stay here
will be most enjoyable.

Continental breakfast is served in
the individual cabins from eight...

What do you think of her?
Swiss ice. Ready for thawing.

And you melt anybody, I suppose.

There are all sports
for you to enjoy.

Dinner is here in this room at 7:30.

Then there is dancing.

At midnight, we will play
the Death Game.

To your cabins, I will now assign
you alphabetically.

Leave me your files before you go.

To cabin number four, Bast, William.

To cabin number five, Bauer, Helga.

Number four, that's me.

I wish I knew what was behind
all this.

That's what I'm here to find out.
I'll see you at dinner.

Yes, Herr Vogler.

I'm anxious to know if all our prize
winners arrived safely.

"Oh, yes, Herr Vogler."

Excellent. And the files?

I'm about to Photostat them now,
Herr Vogler.

They will come across to you
within one hour.Excellent.

I feel this whole project is going
to be immensely profitable.

Come in.

Good afternoon, Mr Bast.
Good afternoon.

You will be playing the Death Game
tonight?Of course.

You will then kindly draw to see if
you're a hunter or victim.

65-H. You are a hunter.

And, er, who's my victim?

65-V. It's John Garton. One of
the Canadian boys in cabin 22.

He's as good as dead.

You should know the dangers
of being over-confident.

Consider me fore-warned.

The game will begin at exactly
midnight,

signalled by the camp siren.

Mr Bast, you neglected to leave me
the files on your party.

There we are.

I will see you later.
At the dancing.

Yes.

Yes. Duval?

What is it?

No, nothing more.

Oh, er, I may want to inspect some
of the candidates.

Switch master control through to
here and then you can go off duty.

Fine.

Auf wiedersehen.

By far our most promising candidate
is named Grey Wyler.

He has a completely
homicidal personality.

Good.

In that case, let us observe him.

What is his cabin number?
Number 14.

Very promising.

I thought so.

Well, give Mr Wyler
every possible encouragement.

Anyone else? It is necessary to
discuss only one other candidate.

William Bast. Ah, yes. Dr Manders'
assistant lecturer.

Dr Manders wrote about him. He
considers him an obstructionist.

Well, let's see what he looks like,
hmm?

Cabin number four.

Obstructionists can be
very dangerous.

Keep an eye on him, huh?

A conspiracy of psychologists?

That's right. Headed by a man
called Adolf Vogler.

Who's this Vogler?

If there were a top ten of scum in
Europe, he'd be number one.

Have you noticed anything about the
mirror in your room?

No.There's a TV camera behind it.

You're kidding.

I'm deadly serious.

Oh, why?

Midnight. The Death Game's started.

Which one's John Garton?

That one there, with the maple leaf
on his sweater.

I'm on somebody's death list.
I've gotta shove off.

Bon chance.

This is your hunter
and you are dead.

I sure am.

You get me out of this thing,
I'll buy you a beer.Sure.

The winners of the Death Game,
as follows.

The top score of 20 points
to William Bast.

Second, with 18 points, Grey Wyler.

Third, with 16 points, Joe Halston.

I would like all winners kindly to
fill out this questionnaire

which I will collect this afternoon.

It's open.

Hey, what's keeping you? You said
we'd play tennis at three o'clock.

This. 960 questions
designed to reveal

every single detail of your
psychological make-up.

Hm.The last question.

"If you were invited to play the
Death Game seriously,

with actual murder as your objective,
for a fee off $10,000, would you accept?"

You've said 'yes', Simon.

Mm-hm. And the name is Bill.

Come in.

Ah, Miss Turner.
Yes, hello.

Excuse me. Have you finished?

Every single question.

Including the last one.

That is confidential.
Of course.

The top three winners have been
graciously invited

my Mr Adolf Vogler to be his guests
at dinner tonight.

The boat leaves the jetty at seven.

Tell Mr Vogler I'll be delighted
to accept.

Gentlemen, welcome.

Your health and your future.

I have a great deal to say to you
this evening, gentlemen,

so I shall economise on words.

I have invited you here this
evening, gentlemen,

simply because I suffer
from a staff shortage.

Oh, and we are potential employees?
Indeed you are, Mr Bast.

Indeed you are. My organisation
is a large one.

I need young men at the height of
their physical and mental powers.

But particularly, I need men who have
been psychologically tested and proven.

For this reason, I contacted
professors of psychology

in all the universities
of the world.

Their job was to talent scout
for me.

Naturally they were well paid.
Naturally.

All three of you have admitted your
willingness to play the Death Game

with actual murder
as your objective.

For a fee of $10,000.

After dinner, you will have
that opportunity.

Bitte. Excuse me, please.
Excuse me.

This has just come from London.

Dr Manders and Bast are dead.

So whoever's gone to Herr Vogler
as Bast, is an imposter.

This could ruin the whole project.

Warn Herr Vogler at once.

And now, gentlemen, that you have
wined and dined, I hope adequately,

it is time to play the Death Game
seriously.

But Mr Vogler, how can we play
without a victim?

But we do have a victim, gentlemen.

Did you really think
you could fool me?

All my selectors are trained
psychologists

searching for a true homicidal type.

You see, your file simply did not
agree with the results of your test.

Mr Simon Templar.

We're to kill him?
You are.

Well, now, before we begin, let me
tell you about amiable Adolf.

He began after the War as a third
rate private detective in Germany.

What problems he couldn't solve
with cash,

he solved with a sawn-off shotgun.

He not only seized every opportunity,
he strangled it.

Soon he needed an assistant.
Then 50, then 100.

Religiously, if you'll pardon the
expression,

he kept files.

After 20 years, he has a dossier
on every important person

alive in the world today
who has something to hide.

And they're all kept in there.

He can exert pressure
from Morocco to Montreal.

He has a finger in every
dirty pie there is.

And I must admit, it certainly
has paid off.

It has indeed.

Unbelievable.

A sort of worldwide blackmail.

You see? Some people do not take
kindly to the pressures I exert.

Naturally I have to enforce this
by having them executed.

Preferably in such a way that it
appears to be an accident.

I should like to consider you two ideal
candidates for my pressure department.

Your starting salaries will be
$75,000 a year.

And we start with Templar?

Exactly.
The two of us.

Two against one.

I'm afraid, Mr Templar.

An uninvited guest, Mr Vogler.
I had to come, Simon.

Miss Jenny Turner, isn't it?

How very charming.

Well, gentlemen, this makes it a
slightly more even contest.

Two against two.

To show you we are sporting types,
we'll give you a headstart, hm?

What does he mean?

You have three minutes, Mr Templar.
Starting now.

Jenny.

How did you get here?
By boat.

Where'd you leave it?
There in the jetty.

It'll be guarded. We'll have
to swim for it.

Simon, I can't swim that far.

They'll catch us up in a boat anyway.

Here.

You mean they're actually
trying to kill us?

Yeah, and they'll probably succeed.

Here, take that.
Oh!

Come on.

They are entering the forest in
front of the house.

Get after them, hm?

There they go!

Hey, listen. Supposing it doesn't
work?

You'll make it work. Now, go on!

That way.

Aarrgghh!

Don't!

Simon!

All right, Templar. I'll give you
five seconds to come out.

No!And then Jenny gets it.
No!

One...
No, please!

..two...

Three!
Get away!

Four!

Five!
OK!

You all right, Jenny? Yeah, do this
sort of thing every night.

Come on, Wyler. Let's see if Vogler
has a bonus for you.

Success already, Mr Wyler?

Failure. Your trained psychologist
goofed. Stand over there.

Now, first...you two
will have the pleasure

of burning all the garbage
kept in here.

Unlock it.

It seems I've underestimated you,
Mr Templar.

There are marvellous opportunities
in my organisation

for men of courage and ability.
We could come -

The keys.

Allow me.

Simon!

Argh!

He obviously hasn't heard
about my hostility index.

Better call the police.