All language subtitles for Spooks - 9x01 - Episode 1.PDTV.en

This programme contains
some violent scenes

Talk of a new world order.
That's how serious these people are.

That's why we need to
find her and stop them.

You're just going to leave and
let them win? I'm finished.

'As the Home Secretary resigns amidst
allegations of corruption and sleaze,

'we ask, are the security
services part of the cover-up?'

Nightingale's been stirring things
up. But what the hell is their game?

If we go in, it'll be a bloodbath
and they've got Ros Myers in there.

It's the right call.

My only regret about dying is not
being around to know what it's like.

The British Home Secretary and
the Pakistani President are still

inside that building, and we can't
actually move in and get them out?
There's no point in us both dying.

Not really part of
the job description.

I'm going back for Ros.

Blest who can unconcern'dly
find hours, days,

and years slide soft away,
In health of body, peace of mind,

Quiet by day,

Sound sleep by night;

Study and ease together mix'd;
sweet recreation, and innocence,

Which most does please,
with meditation.

Thus let me live, unseen, unknown;

Thus unlamented let me die;

Steal from the world,

and not a stone

Tell where I lie.

I can't believe she
chose this place.

It's not really very
Ros somehow, is it?

An enigma till the last.

You know, she once told me that
friends and lovers were overrated.
She only really liked colleagues.

"Liked" might be a bit strong.

I need to talk to you. And I you.

A turn around the grounds?

I feel like she's trying
to tell us something.

Like this is what was
missing from her life.

Marry me, Ruth.

Harry, this is neither
the time nor the place...

This is exactly the time
and the place. It's the funeral.

It's made you emotional.

No, it's made me see clearly.

Ros gave everything to this country.

And six people
came to say goodbye to her.

Six people, Ruth.

I don't want that for myself.

And I don't want that for you.

Oh, Harry, God, your timing...

Timing is nothing.
Timing means everything.

It took you one second
to ask me to marry you.

Do you know that in the
years gone by, there have been,

thousands of moments in which if
you'd asked me the same question,
I'd have said yes, always.

But now, after the choices
you've...

I can't, Harry.

What did you want
to talk to me about?

No, it can wait.

No.

We move on from this.

Um...Nightingale conspirators.

They buried their trails
deeper than I've ever seen.

But last night, we
came up with something.

He was part of the
inner circle, Harry.

He gave the order to bomb the hotel.

But...they smeared him,
they forced him to resign.

It was a smokescreen.
Everything's in there.

Ever feel like you
just can't go on, Ruth?

Can't go on...

must go on.

DOORBELL RINGS

It's only 30 years old,
but it should be quaffable.

This is a surprise! Come in.

Forgive the haste.

It's cold here.

Cold, remote and forbidding. Bliss.

So are you rattling
around this place all alone?

Not for long, sadly.

Julia and her sister
come up tomorrow.

How are you, Harry?

I mean, really?
I'll be all the better for this.

To Ros.

To Ros.

Mmm, highly quaffable.

I wanted to ask you.

Was there anything
I could do for Ros?

Some recognition I could
procure for all the work she did?

Well, come on, man,
make yourself at home.

You've still got your gloves on.

I don't suppose it's worth
my calling for help,

making myself sick,
anything like that.

How did you find out?

Ruth.

That dogged, brilliant bitch.

Will it hurt, Harry?

Not for long.

My family?

It'll look like a heart attack.

There'll be no disgrace.

Thank you.

I'm truly sorry about Ros.

Even if the plan had worked, I would
have regretted her sacrifice.

And...

You know, I always liked you, Harry.

I envied you, actually.

Your sure moral sense.

The thing is, though,

that kind of certainty limits a man.

Keeps him small.

That's why you'll never have
what I had with Nightingale.

The chance, even for just one
moment, to really change everything.

You'll never know what that's like.

HE WHEEZES

I'm about to board.

'Alpha One,'

I don't need to remind you how
dangerous this man is.

He's Al-Qaeda's head of
African Operations. Be careful.

Got you on the ship's GPS.

Bon voyage.

What's with the prostitute, Captain?

Do you like the blonde?
Oh, mate, don't even get
me started on blondes.

I was told no women and children
on this boat. Are you trying
to start a riot or something?

Mr O'Hare, I can't deny my men
a chance to make some extra money.

She'll fetch a couple of
thousand at the other end.

Good luck.

Thank you.

Sir Harry.

The man, the myth, the legend.

Home Secretary. Please.

Good lumbar support.

My only vice. Amongst others.
I trust you can provide a receipt.

Yes.

It does makes one rather
nostalgic for the days

of lining one's office
with mink at the taxpayer's expense.

Still, knife crime down 2%.

Probably just the honeymoon period,
sadly. Well, make the most of it.

Reintroduce slavery
and invade Belgium.

I do hope we're going
to get on, Sir Harry,

despite your links
to the Ancien Regime.

I have no political
affiliations, Home Secretary.

I have greater matters in hand.

Ah, well. The ship has
been righted, at long last.

Our noble coalition at the helm.

Now, why do we have to
raise the threat level?

Hussein Abib.

Rising Al-Qaeda star.

Former Somali warlord.

He's well resourced, and enjoys
a reputation for brutality.

And we have intel that he's now
planning an attack in the UK.

His martyrdom video states
that he wants to

"strike at the heart
of British power."

But we think we've found him
on a ship sailing out of Morocco.

We've decided to take a pre-emptive
stance and nip it in the bud.

I'm talking about a kill order.
Well, good luck.

Of course, you'll keep all of
this well away from UK territory.

Anything else?

Just this.

It's my resignation.

I know you were
close to Ros Myers...

Her death is just one of
many reasons, Home Secretary.

And of course, your appointment
has no bearing on my decision.

It feels like the appropriate moment.

Listen, Harry. As I ease into
my dotage, I've realised that
everything in life is about timing,

from sex to the golf swing.

So I'm not going to pick
up that envelope yet.

We'll just let
it percolate for a few days.

As you wish, Home Secretary.

Yes, everything's cool, everything's
set, everything's fun, OK?

It'll be good fun, OK?

Yeah, all right.

Tell you what, mate,
if she's clean I'll give you 50

for a couple of hours with her.

Hey! You don't talk to her, eh?
She's clean. And she stays clean.

Come on, mate.
You can't bring a woman onboard and
expect to keep her all to yourself.

No, please.

Oh, I think she's got
a soft spot for you.

HE COUGHS

The former Home Secretary's
autopsy came through, Harry.

Heart attack.

How sad.

Not really.

Harry, I've got Lucas.

Go ahead, Alpha One. Abib's on board.

Eyeball confirmation.

Are we a go? Complete the operation.

And Lucas, the assassination
has to happen whilst you're
in international waters.

Understood.

Captain.

Fresh from the Captain's table.

What's that woman doing on board?

Your orders were
to keep to a minimum.

We can't afford
any collateral.

The crew get a cut of the sale.
The old captain allowed it.

If I'd have said no,
they may have rejected me.

I don't like it,
but that's how it works.

Fine, but after we've done this,
I want that girl off this ship.

Of course.
Extra ammo and suppressor.

They're in cabin six, upper deck C.

I'll call a crew meeting in
two minutes to make sure
you don't run into anybody.

You'll have time to
get rid of the body.

You know, sir, I could have
taken care of this myself.

Walk before you can run, Dimitri.

Er, and Abib had a container
loaded on board.

I've tried to check
it, but it's been welded shut.

Can't be good, right?

Let's deal with Abib first.

I think that's everything.

No, please.
I'm not going to hurt you.

What are you doing down here?
Do you speak English? Hmm? Russian?

HE SPEAKS RUSSIAN

Please, please, I run, I go...

No, listen. You need to
go back to your cabin. Now.

SPEAKS RUSSIAN

SHOUTING

Shit! Down, down.

Pirates. Let's go back. Come on.

Our company will pay good money for
us. As long as you don't hurt us.

Who are these people?
No-one, just passengers.

You had a gun.

Why? Why do you think?

Protection from people like you.

LAUGHS

A gangster, and his whore.

Do not waste ammunition.

Cut them. Throw them overboard.

What are you doing?

It doesn't make
any sense to kill him.

If he's a gangster,
there's money in it for you.

You first.

Who are you?

Private contractor.

I'm assuming
you're security services?

Help me conceal these bodies.

There's only one thing
on this boat worth tracking.

I'm assuming you and your...
pimp are onto Abib.

So how do you think these guys
fit in? Are they just pirates?

Let's hope so.

You're coming with me and
you're going to do exactly what
you're told, is that clear?

I just saved your life.

Let's move.

(You can't think about taking
them on. There's too many).

I need you to go to my cabin.

B Deck, cabin three. There's
a Satphone under the bunk mattress.

Dial ##*05.

Whoever picks up,
give them the emergency contact
protocol - cobalt seven.

Ask to speak to Harry Pearce.

Get him to assess and advise.

Why don't you go? Because I'm not
taking my eyes off my colleague.

And you're slightly less
likely to be shot than I am.

Bring the phone back with you.

Why do you need the crane?
Are you opening a container?

Harry. Emergency contact
from the Hanover Star.

Lucas or Dimitri? Neither.

This is Harry Pearce.

'Mr Pearce, my name is Beth Bailey'.

I'm a private security
contractor surveilling
Hussein Abib's organisation.

'The Hanover Star
has been boarded by pirates.

'It's not yet clear if there's
any connection with Abib.

'Your lead operative'

is trying to rescue his colleague,
who's being held at gunpoint.

Do we trust this? Well,
she used all the right protocols.

Ms Bailey, tell my officer
to abort his primary mission.

'Then I want all of you
off that boat.

'We'll alert the relevant navy. Thank
you for your assistance.' Understood.

They'll be all right, Harry.

That'll be all, Ruth.

Abib, my brother.

Shalom.

I spoke to your people.
You're to abort the primary
mission and get off the ship.

We need captain and engineer only.

Wait! If you kill any more of
my men, I won't pilot the ship.

I swear to you. And I swear to you.

I kill someone every minute
you do not do your job.

Starting with this passenger.

OK, OK! You killed him.

Not me.

Lock them up.

Turn off the GPS
and bring me the Satphone.

Once I've finished,
activate the signal jammer.

Whoa! GPS signal just died.

Redflash Lucas on the Satphone.

Signal's blocked.
Alert the Admiralty.

We're too low in the water.
I need to go and check something.

What is it? The ballast pump must
have failed. I need to fix it.

Or we could capsize.

Come on. I need to do it now.

I need my tools.

Don't touch anything
in the engine room.

Ballast pumps are very dangerous.

This is it.

Hey. What's happening down there?
Why did they kill those men?

What's she doing here? It's OK.

They're not pirates. They're
with Abib. He's their leader.

Hijacking the ship
is part of a plan.

And I found out what was in his
container. Explosives. A lot.

Shit.

I need to notify the Grid.
You can't. They've jammed all the
signals and turned off the GPS.

We're invisible.
You need to get off the boat
and get out of jammer range.

I'll stay. No. No way. We all go.

If we all go, we lose the boat
and we leave Abib
alone with a floating bomb.

Look, if I stay, I may have
a chance to stop the ship before
it gets anywhere near land.

You go, get help. Besides,
they need me to sail this thing.

They're not going to hurt me.

Not yet.
You know this is the right option.

Cause a diversion, get Abib's
men off the deck, and I'll release
the lifeboat locks. All right.

One more thing. I overheard Abib
on the phone to someone. "Talwar".

Sounded like someone important.

Abib told him he could "begin".

I think they're mounting
an operation. Go!

I'm done.

BEEPING

Fire. The engine room.

You want to die?

HE SPEAKS IN NATIVE LANGUAGE

You stay here.

Quickly!

The passengers,
why did you help them escape?

Don't look at me.

Sail the ship.

Anything else, you die.

The pirates are loyal to Abib,

and that ship is now
packed with explosives.

Headed for the UK? It's likely,
given his previous threats.

With the navigation systems
offline, it will be impossible
to tell where she's headed.

And Dimitri said he overheard
Abib talking on a Satphone
to someone called "Talwar".

I think they're planning some
sort of coordinated attack.

We'll look into it.
Tariq, cross-reference everything we
have on Abib with this "Talwar".

Dimitri's still on board.

We couldn't have escaped
without him. He's going to
try and scuttle the ship.

But there's a patrol boat leaving
shortly. I want to go back.

No. Let the Navy do their job.

If there's the chance of
an attack here, we need you.

Thumb a ride on a Hercules. I need
you back on the Grid, Lucas. Be safe.

We need a list of possible targets
along the south coast.

Start with the naval bases.

If that ship gets into harbour,
it could destroy a whole city.

And our newest recruit is on board.

Talwar is a codename of a of a
high level Al-Qaeda computer hacker,

thought to be behind the breach of
the Pentagon mainframe last year.

The CIA have been trying to
flush him out of the SWAT
Valley since February.

And he's working with Abib?
Is he running this op?

Impossible to say.

But I've got a potential target,

new aircraft carrier
being launched
by the Queen in Plymouth tomorrow.

Thousands of people, head of state,
military significance.
It's Abib's dream target.

GCHQ has been intercepting all
Abib's communications for the last
15 months and the problem is,

Abib's private communications are
heavily coded, so it takes weeks to
break them. We don't have weeks.

If Tariq's right about Plymouth,
thousands are at risk.

We need to know what these
two are saying to each other.

It's the only way we'll find out
if that's where the ship's heading.

Look, don't worry about Dimitri.

He was SBS. They...fight sharks
for fun. Does it ever stop?

It's not your fault, Harry.

Any chance of a lift
back to London?

I'm sorry about your
colleague, but it's exactly why

people like you shouldn't get
involved with things this. My
company has 30 years' experience.

Please stop patronising me.
We're in the same field, buddy.

You think?

Right now my colleague is alone
at gunpoint, risking his life

to protect his country on a ship
loaded with explosives. You?

You're a profiteer.

You exploit death,
violence and misery for money.

I reckon you can afford
your own plane ticket.

I've just been undercover as a
penniless prostitute.

Thank you.

Stop the ship.

Go.

You too.

Have you cracked the code?
Not exactly.

Each message between Abib and Talwar
has a different, dynamic signature.

I have to trawl the non-indexed
deep web to construct a cypher.

It requires a lot
of computing power. Takes time.

And you're waiting for?

Well...I could send out a worm to
temporarily hijack a thousand of
the public's personal computers.

Harness their power together,
and we can do it. Downsides?

Besides massive illegality,
computers across the country

will grind to a halt, and we may
corrupt some files here and there.

So the country will have to struggle
on without pornography and
Minesweeper for a couple of hours.

Do it.

Harry, I've been reading Talwar's
unsecured public posts on
known AQ forums.

I might have found something.
Sometimes his, his
Arabic is really off.

Odd phrases consistent with
someone translating from English.
We don't even know his nationality.

Well, um, he talks a lot
about the mountains having to move,

avoiding the CIA...
nothing specific, obviously.

But twice, he mentions watching
the sun rise, the usual dawn of a
global Islamic caliphate business.

And? Well, the sunrise times don't
corroborate with the Middle East.
They're Greenwich Meantime.

That could place him in any other
English-speaking country in
our timezone. Yes, of course.

But then look here. March 11th.
Talwar apologises for not posting.

His internet was down because
of a thunderstorm.

The only place with a localised
thunderstorm that afternoon
was the south-east of England.

I think he's here, Harry. In London.

I think he's always been here.

Shalom.

'Preparations are already
well underway in Plymouth
for the launch of HMS Endurance,

'the newest addition
to the Royal Navy's fleet.

'The type 45 Destroyer...'

It's good to have you back.

Any news on Dimitri? No.

Navy patrols are still searching.

A sky full of satellites, and yet
a 30,000 tonne cargo ship full of
explosives and heading this way

can apparently disappear
into the Atlantic Ocean.

We're on to Talwar, though,
the Al-Qaeda computer hacker
who's Abib's contact.

We think he may be in London,
co-ordinating this end
of the operation. Tariq?

The cypher's working.
But they've been cautious.
Even within this encryption,

Abib and Talwar don't talk about
the operation explicitly. This is
my "I want some good news" face.

Talwar's servers are
somewhere in the Middle East.

He accesses them using
a super shadow proxy. This is
cutting-edge stuff, it's very cool.

It masks where he really is
by bouncing his communications
across the world, untraceable.

But this thing's data packet
is pretty unique.

If we can get a new message direct
from Talwar, I think I can find him.

Contact Talwar
using Abib's private code.

Pose as a friend.
Get him to respond.

Tell him the success of the attack
is dependent on that response.

Theo, I'm not a ship's captain.

I'm British Security Services.

What?! We need
to take control of this ship,

but to do that,
I'm going to need your help.

They are your enemies, not mine.

Put them on.

Did Talwar bite?
It's been 12 minutes. No reply yet.

We posed as one of the pirates.

Told him Abib was injured during the
hijacking and needs to pass on

an urgent message about the ship's
payload. Come on, you bastard.

We need to stop that ship.

Where did all your friends go?
This journey is not for them.

Set a new course.

What's at Plymouth?

You think they will
let you get near the port?

You do not speak!

All this effort to be blown out of
the water five miles off the coast?

That's not a martyr's death,
it's not even a coward's death.
It's an idiot's death!

What do you know
about dying for a cause, Captain?

We've got a reply. It's Talwar.

Tracing the data packet...

..forcing a reverse IP reveal.

The IP resolves to West London.
Let me narrow it down.

It's registered
to Graham Francis Hall, 44.

IT consultant, born in Leeds,
no criminal record.

Not your typical Al-Qaeda profile.

Ah, he converted to Islam in '92.
Wife Khalida, born Pakistan.

Daughter Aala, aged 17.
That's all we've got.

He's been careful. Well, you would.

Tariq, get me the address.

64 Lyntall Street, W12.

I'll scramble a level seven
armed response team.

Tell CO19 I'll meet them there.

OK. You.

HE CLICKS HIS FINGERS
Here.

Kneel.

All unbelievers cry
in the face of death.

Wait!

This plan is already over.
How many innocent people have
you killed for this failure?

And all the innocents
your godless leaders have killed
across the Muslim world?

What was the point of their deaths,
Captain? I don't know. Maybe none.

But why do this?
You're a man of faith, aren't you?

I am! But I am also a father
who watched his homeland abandoned
by the West. Left to rot.

Do you want us in your country or
not? You don't even know, do you?

Who are you?

GUN FIRES

Stop the ship.

Protocol six, cloud six egret.

Get me Harry Pearce.

The Hanover Star! Back online!
Harry, it's Dimitri!

Alpha Two?

Abib's dead.

Hanover Star is stopped 26 miles
south-south-west of Plymouth.

Navy should be with us any minute.
Ruth...

tell Lucas and CO19 to stand down.

Talwar is now the most
valuable AQ intelligence source
we've had in years.

Put a triple A full surveillance
package on him, then double it.

What about the other pirates,
Alpha Two? 'They seem to be gone.
I need to search the ship,'

check that those explosives
won't go off any time soon.

You all right?
Yeah, just a scratch, I'll be fine.

Glad to hear it. Liaise with
the Navy, then get back here.

What's the matter?

It worked out.
Danger averted. Dimitri's safe.

And what about next time?

What about when it doesn't work out?

Well, then we deal with it,
like we always do.

Is it ever time to stop
dealing with it? To just say no?

I don't want to go
to any more funerals.

What's this about?

I've handed in my resignation.

Look, I know that Ros...
It's not that.

It's everything.
I just don't want to feel like
I'm covered in blood any more.

I've never heard you feel sorry for
yourself before. I don't think I do.

It's just the realisation
that I make a negligible difference.
That's not true.

I think it is.

The bodies keep
falling away on both sides.

The enemy strikes, we strike back.

I think it's time for somebody else
to stand on the wall for a bit.
This isn't you talking.

I am leaving.

I want to feel clean.
That's... That's enough, Ruth.

There's someone here to see you.
She's being swept and scanned
in the interrogation room.

Who is it? Don't know. She knew
your protocols, though, and she said
she was returning your 50 Dirhams.

Thanks, Tariq.

I was adjusting extremely well
to the concept that I was never
going to see you again.

That's a nice way
to talk to an old shipmate.

You used MI5 codes
to blag your way into the building.
What did you expect?

I have a present for you.

Do you remember
the South American on the boat?

The one sticking out like
a sore thumb amongst the Somalis?

Well, at the time
I thought I recognised him.

So I started checking files.
And eventually...

..I found him. Jose Fontes Arroyo.
Colombian engineer and ship-builder.

He works for the drug
cartels, designing new ways
to transport their wares.

You must have had to look through
quite a few photos.

About 12,000.

There weren't any good films
on the plane.

Besides, it was time
well spent because it means
I get to see you again.

Anyway, look. I wondered what the
hell a Colombian drug-smuggling
boffin was doing on an AQ mission.

So I dug a bit.

This is Arroyo's pride and joy.

They're remote semi-submersibles
which travel fast and low.

They're totally undetectable
by radar

and can carry
ten tonnes of cocaine, or...

they could carry
ten tonnes of explosive.

The Hanover Star's been neutralised.
My colleague killed Abib.

It's over.

Hmm.

That's not to say
this isn't interesting.

I want to know what this man
was doing on the boat.

But I get the impression
you might want something in return.

I'd like to talk to Harry Pearce.

You don't remember me, do you?
Actually I do, Miss Bailey.

Very well.
You were an excellent candidate.

But at the time, it was felt
by some of the recruitment panel

that you were overly self-interested
and potentially arrogant. Ouch.

How have the intervening years been?

I suppose I've been proving
the panel right, mostly.

Making large amounts of money
in the private sector.

I worked in South America first
and then the Middle East.

So why are you here?
I was thinking of reapplying.

Well run dry? No.

But the water's dirty.

The private sector's flooded
with amateurs now.

And you're suddenly stirred once
again to the defence of the realm?

I'm fully prepared
for all the self-righteous bullshit
that I'm going to get here

because of the choices I've made,
but I'm ready for that.

I want this. I want to get clean.

And I encourage
your reapplication, Miss Bailey.

But it's not me
you'll have to convince.

Come back in a couple of weeks,
and I'll put in a good word for you
with whoever is sitting here.

Harry, it's Dimitri. Something's
wrong. Thank you, Miss Bailey.

Go ahead, Alpha Two.
'I've searched the ship'.

The explosives Abib brought
on board are gone. All of them.

'There must be another plan,
another target.' The submersibles.

Miss Bailey? A moment, please.
Our man on the boat is saying the
explosives are no longer on board.

Could they have already launched?
May I talk to him?

Go ahead. Alpha Two,
did the boat stop at any point?

We stopped in the middle of nowhere.

I was locked up,
but heard the crane and two boats,

'low in the water. I assumed
it was the pirates leaving.'

All right. Patch yourself up
and come home, Alpha Two. The boat
run at Plymouth was a diversion.

The submersibles were in the
container, and the explosives.

What's their range?
About 500-600 miles.

They could be anywhere.
Ruth, Tariq, start searching
for potential targets.

Alert the RN and the Coastguard. We
have to assume the UK is the target.

I'll flash naval bases.
They wouldn't even get close.

Aerial patrols, minefields.
The same goes for coastal power
stations, they're well protected.

What about commercial ports?

Not high profile enough.
They wouldn't go to this
to blow up Southampton Docks.

"To strike at the heart
of British power..."

How big are they? Could they
fit through the Thames Barrier?

Yeah. The Thames defence system,
Sentry, it should be able to detect
and neutralise anything like this.

Tell them what to expect. Beth,
how fast do the submersibles travel?

Fast. 40 knots?

Given the current location
of the Hanover Star,
if they launched six hours ago...

Could be in the river by now. Sentry
is offline. Went down this morning.

No chance of getting a lock on them.
It must have been hacked.

Talwar. Tariq, get on to the Thames
Barrier. Tell them to close it, now.

Abib launches the submersibles,
Talwar takes out the defence system,
the Houses of Parliament...?

They've looked to combine cyber
and physical attacks.

We need to shut him down. Now.

You go with him.
He may need your knowledge.

OK, let's make the calls. Evacuate
the HP, Six and any other prominent
government bankside buildings.

After 9/11, various last-resort
measures were put in place,

only to be used in the darkest hour,
when all other countermeasures
have failed.

Sorry, what are we talking about?

Beneath the Houses of Parliament
in a reinforced chamber, there's
an electromagnetic pulse bomb.

Its conventional blast will
be contained by the room,

but it will kill everything
electrical within one kilometre.

Then we fire it. Now.

It's not that simple. There's a
reason it's a measure of last resort.

It'll take out everything
within that radius.

That's pacemakers, life support
machines. Even aircraft are at risk.

Lucas, there's two people at the
rear of the property, ground floor.

'One travelling upstairs.'

TYRES SQUEAL

CRASHING

Armed police! Stand still!
Put your hands on your head!

Armed police. Put your hands
on your head. Move.

Get down on the floor,
get down now, get down!

Get Sentry online now.
What are you talking about?

I don't know what you're
talking about! Who is Talwar?

I don't know what you're
talking about. Please!

Lucas! She's upstairs.

Get down on the floor! Get down now!

She's Talwar.

You can't stop it. No, but you can.

Do it, now.

DO IT!

'The Thames Barrier have reported
the submersibles passed through.'

It gives us about five minutes
before they reach the HP.

We can't guarantee complete
evacuation in that time.

You have to get Sentry back up.

Understood.

Reactivate the system.

Do it now.

Don't think I won't kill you
because you're a teenage girl.

She wants to be a martyr.

What would you suggest?
Get her parents up here now.

If Lucas can't reactivate Sentry,
we've no choice but to detonate
the EMP.

We risk a few deaths
to prevent thousands.

The subs could be duds.
They could miss.

Abib could have made any one
of a hundred tiny miscalculations.

This is your last chance
to reactivate the system.

NO!

Please don't make me do this.

SHE PLEADS IN URDU

These are the choices I didn't want
to have to make any more.

These are the choices
we need you to make.

Aala!

Look at your mother!

We give Lucas as long as possible.

DON'T make me do this!

SHE PLEADS IN URDU

Harry, she's not budging.

This is Harry Pearce. Protocol 17872.

Stand by to detonate
the EMP bomb on my mark.

Two torpedo-like objects
approaching Westminster Bridge.

No time left.

Three, two, one. Mark.

It's over.

You failed.

You failed.

Take her away. Move.

I'm really rather resentful about
having to trot out all this nonsense
about a chain reaction on the Tube.

I saw you on the Six.
You were magnificent.

You made an extraordinarily
difficult decision today, Harry.

I applaud you for it.
I suppose that's the only
thanks you'll ever get.

Unless a peerage tempts?

I am sufficiently enobled,
thank you very much.

And...you can dispose
of that letter, Home Secretary.

Glad to hear it. I mean that.

Well, I'm sure I'm due
at Mumsnet or something.

Until the next catastrophe.

St Thomas's back-up generator
kicked in just in time.

Thought you'd want to know.

So I only caused the deaths
of nine people.

They're having to bring
the submersibles up by night,

but the Navy divers have examined
them and say they're legit.

So nine people died in the EMP,
but you saved thousands.

Is it all just maths, Ruth?

I think sometimes it is.

I'm going to offer Beth a job.

We need different
kinds of people here.

In fact, I'd like you to tell her.

I will.

I've been thinking about why I said,

um, no to, you know...
Ruth, you don't have to...

Because it would be a lie, Harry.

Can you even picture it?

Us in a little house
in...Sussex?

What would we do?

What we would talk about
when the neighbours came round?

I think we've forfeited
the chance for that sort of life,
Harry, you and me.

Things we've seen together,
things we've done.

And here, we can face all that
in the open.

There, we'd have to hide it away.

We couldn't be more together
than we are right now.

Will you sort out Beth's clearances?

I will.

Has Beth gone?

Yeah, she just left. You should
catch her if you hurry.

I take it you're telling
her the good news.

You're not pleased?

I'm not sure about her.

In fact, I plan on doing
a bit of background research,
starting tonight.

Actually, there is one thing.
She doesn't have anywhere
to stay in London.

You've got a spare room, right?

Oh, Lucas, I... Won't be forever.
I want her kept close.

But I... Thanks, Ruth.

It's not really you, is it?

15 years, and you look just the same.

Seems terribly unfair.

Get away from me.

A stroke rather curtails
one's plans for world domination.

Whatever it is you want, Vaughn,
you're not getting it.

Our actions mar or make us.

We're the children of our own deeds.

I was marred by what we did.

Looks like you were made.

This is for you.

Now, I'll go.

Just tell me one thing,
I'm too curious.

What's it been like?

What's what been like?

Being Lucas North, of course.

Oh, listen. I'm sorry.

I didn't mean to upset you. I'll go.

Good to see you, John.

Deadly Soviet nerve agent
used in Afghanistan

to obliterate entire towns.

That's tantamount to genocide.
And all to keep the oil tap running.

Did you open the suitcase?
How did you get this number?

Leave me alone.

It's me. Don't think we should be
sharing late night tete a tetes.

You should have been honest
with us both.

You've got nothing to hide,
have you(?)

GUNFIRE AND SCREAMS

Beth!