Original subtitles

Previously on The Rook...

Myfanwy, what were you thinking?

I just want to know what happened at the bridge.

Is this your guy?

His name's Marcus Kevler.

I've got a client who wants to give you

a one-way ticket to England.

Nazim is capable of erasing memories.

You have to find out who did this to me and why.

The person who hurt you, betrayed you, is right here.

What happened was intense,

and I'm not denying that I enjoyed it, because I did.

It was a one-time thing.

Okay.

Never again.

What did you want from me?

To finish the job,

sell you at auction.

- Hello, Myfanwy. - Lorik Pernaska.

Keep your hands off my Rook.

We didn't step into Rook Thomas' world, I assure you.

She stepped into ours.

It's time I told you everything.

8.675.

5.44.

20.66.

672.3.

2.33.

Gold, plus 0.7.

I see things.

Platinum down 3/10 market close.

Uh, this is Josie Fairburn,

and I've been overseeing her assessment the past week.

Nice to meet you, Josie.

It's good to have you with us.

Josie?

She rarely interacts verbally.

Josie was diagnosed with autism age four,

but she has always had a proclivity for numbers.

Last week, her brother David was arrested for insider trading.

Made 2 million on commodity trades in less than a week.

Lucky day trader?

Unlikely for a plumber with no financial training.

The FCA suspected he was cheating,

but they couldn't figure out how.

They called us when they discovered this.

Those are Josie's numbers, which correspond to the exact prices

at market end last Wednesday.

She wrote them down almost a month ago.

- Always commodities? - Yes.

It seems that that's her passion.

Have you confirmed this ability yourself?

The formula is tricky,

but based on two years of past predictions,

her accuracy is 93%.

Mm. I'm skeptical.

Quantum theory says it's theoretically possible.

"Theoretically" being the operative word.

Look, um,

the present moment for us is a fraction of a second.

But there is no physical law that says that has to be the case.

For Josie, the present moment...

seems to be more like a month.

I don't understand what that means.

Have a look at the MRI scans.

For most people, the brain centers

that mediate consciousness are always active.

But for Josie, they seem to flicker on and off,

almost like a strobe light.

It's as though she's dropping down to the present moment

for a heartbeat and then flitting off elsewhere.

Look, the theory of relativity

says that time and space are united,

so isn't it possible that an EVA

could move back and forth through time

the same way that you and I move back and forth through space?

Right, well, look, these are her predictions

for tonight on silver, coal, and platinum.

You can see for yourself at 8:43.

Well, we'll discuss it.

Thank you, Myfanwy.

Thank you.

Iron ore, 60.01.

- Natural gas, 2.22. - Your car is on its way.

I thought we'd just wait in here.

I see things.

Soybean oil, 0.41.

Myfanwy Thomas wakes in the rain.

Myfanwy Thomas.

What?

Memory gone.

Dividend falling. Zero sum.

- Sorry, what do you mean? - Attacked.

Memory stolen

by one standing under seas.

What--what are you saying,

that I'm going to be attacked?

Memory stolen

by one standing under seas.

Here, um...

sit.

Sit.

Write down what you just said exactly as you said it.

WTI, 71.9.

FKAM, 39.3.

5.44.

20.6.

Fuck.

The truth is in here!

The truth is in here!

The truth is in here!

The truth is in here!

The truth is in here!

The truth is in here!

The truth is in here!

The truth is in here!

The truth is in here!

The truth is in here!

The truth is in here!

The truth is in here!

The truth is in here!

Can I take a look at that, please?

Why?

I'd like to see your ID, please.

Fuck off.

- Okay, come with me. - Hey, hey.

I have every right to be here.

Fuck.

Founder's Day is always a Saturday

and there's always a roast.

Well, then tell the chef he can make the puddings a day early.

Oh, through there, please, guys!

Thanks, yeah. Oh, Myf.

Founder's Feast caterers. Any special instructions?

Double the food. Triple the booze.

Warn Farrier I'm on my way up.

Yeah, yeah, I'm still here.

"In the rain.

Attacked, memory stolen." Those were her exact words.

The girl predicts petroleum prices,

not muggings.

This was strange, different.

I recall you telling us that her power was limited

to commodities?

Yeah, and--and I am an EVA,

and an EVA could be described as a commodity.

Last night, I checked her predictions at 8:43,

and they were all correct down to the last digit.

No, I--I don't like seeing you like this.

- What does that mean? - You're anxious.

- You're spinning out. - Oh, please.

Please don't patronize me.

This is not simply anxiety.

No?

- What is it, then? - Evidence,

empiric evidence.

Oh, please hear what I'm saying.

I'm scared.

When's this event meant to take place?

I'm not sure of that, exactly,

but most of her predictions tend to occur

less than a month out.

So you have a month to seek clarification.

She is not the one to clarify.

She drops the bomb and she moves on.

Okay, so...

Investigate in whatever way you can.

But meanwhile, don't use the random rant of a stranger

as an excuse to spiral under.

Excuse?

You think I want this?

Why would I want this?

We'd all like a reason

to drop out now and again.

If you need a break, take a holiday.

You don't need a gypsy curse as cover.

I'll be back in an hour.

Good of you to join us, Linda.

My apologies.

I hope you didn't wait.

Uh, well, we did.

I'm afraid you might find

the matter in hand a bit sensitive.

- I'll manage. - What is it?

My predecessor's yearly review

of the security services failed to include the Checquy,

an oversight the PM intends to correct.

We're going under review?

It's a matter of resource allocation--

who and what goes where and how.

Uh, there's been a suggestion that EVAs might be better deployed

amongst the larger, publicly acknowledged agencies,

distributed across MI5, MI6, and the military

according to operational needs.

Merge the Checquy with other agencies.

Or...eliminate entirely.

Like it or not, your agency faces

the growing threat of public exposure,

endangering the lives of its assets

and the political fortunes of those who oversee them.

Well, at least she's honest.

Not to mention the challenge

of financing an operation not in the budget.

This may have seemed a fresh idea in 1995, but...

You must admit, the novelty's wearing off.

Indeed.

Uh, and who are you going to pick to lead this review?

We haven't decided.

No.

No, so many elderly white men to pick from.

Uh, Home Secretary, uh, rest assured,

our agency will assist the review

in any way that we can.

Thank you, Conrad. Diplomatic as always.

As a matter of fact, uh, we've been considering

some operational, uh, reforms of our own.

Big ideas.

If you would be kind enough to postpone...

The...

The, uh, results

might impact your assessment.

How long?

Three months. Six at most.

Linda. What was that?

What do you mean?

The apocalypse is looming

and you can't muster a shred of humility?

The home office threatens a review every other year.

Never once has it happened.

Well, there's always a first time.

Not as long as we have you around to grovel.

Hello!

Three fucking hours!

I know my rights! This is unlawful detention!

Fuck.

I need the loo.

Do you want me to piss on the table?

I'd rather you didn't.

Though it's seen worse.

I'm Superintendent Hoskins.

No, you're not.

You're Linda fucking Farrier.

Bronwyn Thomas.

I can see the family resemblance.

Though, you know, suppose I'm looking for it.

I'm not gonna deny that your sister's here.

I know you've seen her.

You've been keeping the times

of her entry and exits.

You're trying to follow her home.

What's your goal, Bronwyn?

My goal?

You kidnapped my only living relative.

I want her to come home.

I barely recognize her after whatever you've done to her.

Well, that's because you remember a schoolgirl,

and she's now a senior intelligence officer

doing important work.

At least let me speak with her.

If she wants to stay, fine.

She can tell me herself.

That's difficult because our security is predicated

on a certain amount of separation.

What does it matter?

People know what you do here.

What we do here is protect people like you,

ungrateful civilians who have no idea what we risk

in order to give you your security.

Now, even if your sister wanted to leave with you,

it would put her life and yours at risk.

She's far too valuable. She knows far too much.

I'm not stupid. I do know how this works.

I have been planning for two years where to go

and how to protect her.

I am her family.

She's all I've got left.

Walk away now...

or you will disappear.

You understand?

Fed up with all these guys

screwing up our business all the time.

But hey, that's all over now.

No more agency moles shutting down our web sales.

Next one is in the flesh at Forsythe's

with real art as a front.

The seller stays anonymous, full deniability for the buyer.

It's fucking brilliant.

Who's up for grabs?

Ah. This guy, for one.

Oh, yeah? And what does he do?

Shits grenades.

We've gotta get someone on the block.

I've got a line on a few open targets in Europe.

Lorik says things are too hot right now.

Oh, fuck Lorik.

He swans around like he's Steve fucking Jobs

and I'm...whoever the other Steve was.

Wozniak.

Gesundheit.

Oh, I'm sorry. It's my girlfriend.

Hey, babe.

Guess who just spent three hours inside Apex House.

You did what?

They fucking busted me.

Isolation, interrogation-- the whole deal.

I met Linda Farrier.

- Are you okay? - Yes.

I didn't mention you, obviously, but she's onto me.

But the weird thing...

is, I could tell she wasn't all bad.

What are you--

She is the fucking devil.

I could be wrong,

but maybe she'd open to a trade...

if we could come back with the right offer.

A slave trade? Seriously?

I knew you'd say that.

It's not ideal...

but I am not letting this go.

All right, give me a couple days.

Let me see what I can do.

Okay.

All ?

Correct.

Donc, pour--

All ?

Ow, ow, ow!

What? What? What is it?

- Ow, my fucking foot. - What? Where?

The cup holder.

Okay, maybe I can slide across like--

- Ow! - Just hold on. Hold on.

- Ow. - You okay?

- That really hurt. - I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

Never have I ever...

Yeah.

Had sex...

in the Palace of Westminster.

Oh.

That was a cheap shot.

Fuck off.

No. Who?

Do you remember Marta Alfaro?

Oh, my God, I forgot.

You were seeing each other, weren't you?

The one with the lisp?

She did not have a lisp.

She was from Zaragoza.

Well, that's no excuse.

All right, then.

Never have I ever...

Cheated on my live-in partner at university.

Really?

- You never-- - No.

Not once.

Oh.

If you could go back and do it all over again...

Would anything be different?

The night you didn't come home...

it felt like pure abandonment.

Oh, you know I'd never leave you.

You did leave me.

Not by choice.

The Glengrove program strictly forbade

any outside contact whatsoever.

It was by mandate.

You were never tied to a chair.

No, but...

It was the first time I'd caused someone

to lose consciousness.

He crashed his car, and both of us nearly died.

It was disorientating, to say the least.

I honestly felt like the ground opened up

beneath my feet.

I was the ground beneath your feet.

- I would have waited. - No, you wouldn't.

And nor would I have let you.

You were always destined for the top.

So were you.

I'd say we're relatively happy now.

Don't you think?

I mean, today's meeting notwithstanding.

Oh.

Yeah.

It was a decent rationale to postpone the review.

Well, it-- it sounds decent enough

to those who don't know any better, but...

Mm.

I wonder if Linda suspects us.

No.

Why, do you think so?

Go ahead.

I can't wait to hear it.

- The op on Burgh Island... - Was a fuckup.

Was it?

It's all in there.

I've been waiting for you to say it for 20 minutes.

Another friendly international handshake gone to shit.

Next time, I'm going alone.

Yeah, sorry. I'll, uh--I'll have a look.

My brain is a million miles away.

You guys heard about Josie Fairburn?

What?

Farrier told me.

Farrier told you what?

That you were fooled by a psychic.

"Fooled"?

That's the word she used?

What exactly did she say?

That you brought in a target who wasn't a target.

That you'd probably want to tell me all about it, and I...

I was supposed to change the subject.

Josie's brother made 2 million trading on her predictions.

He's a plumber.

And six analysts verified her accuracy.

Do we have any more Szechuan duck?

Barbecue beef's good too.

Really? You're changing the subject?

No, I'm just hungry.

I can't believe she said that.

After all I do for this fucking agency.

It's not like I have a life outside of it.

None of us do.

And maybe that's a mistake.

You not ever thought what it'd be like

if we never came to the Checquy?

I think the bigger mystery

is why you order all these different types of food...

And it's just me.

I like options.

* The cracks so bare

* On the way

* Way as a world stains

* Through the ground

* Through the ground

* Through the ground

Rook Thomas.

Pleasure.

Likewise.

It's always an honor to meet a member of the Court.

I hope I'm not in trouble.

I'm not here on behalf of the Checquy.

I called on a personal matter.

So this is a date? I'm flattered.

No, it's not a date. It's a, uh, business proposal.

Cash for export.

What was your name again?

- Margery? - Myfanwy.

Myfanwy.

And what exactly are you asking me, Myfanwy?

Arrange safe passage.

One person, one-way, destination negotiable,

open departure date.

An emergency exit, if you will.

- For who? - For me.

That's not how it works.

Please.

I wouldn't ask if I had anywhere else to turn.

- What have you done? - Nothing.

Nothing, I just...

I might have to leave.

It's--it's hard to explain.

Is someone trying to kill you?

Something like that.

Yeah, but I know better than to think

I can just walk away, get on a plane, and disappear.

Leaving Linda Farrier a Rook short.

Fuck Linda.

I promise, no one will know that you came here

unless you want them to know.

75,000.

Half tomorrow to show me that you're serious.

- The other half-- - Deal.

I trust you'll follow the diplomatic code.

Yep?

I have Dr. Bristol on line one.

Andrew? What do you want?

I've received a letter in the mail today.

It's from Myfanwy Thomas.

Throw it away.

Any communication violates the agreement.

I'm aware.

Perhaps "thank you for your full disclosure"

might be a more appropriate response.

When you start giving lessons on what's appropriate...

remind me not to attend.

I warned you, arrest and imprisonment,

and here you are less than a fortnight later

baiting me from the street by name.

What was your best-case scenario?

This conversation.

What?

Check my boot.

The heel.

I'd do it myself if I weren't tied to the table.

His name is Nazim Al Rifai.

He's Syrian.

Escaped from Idlib Province to Jordan two years ago.

My partner picked him up yesterday

from an illegal camp in Paris.

A lot of people think he's some kind of myth,

but he is real.

They call him Alnahr alnaqiu.

It means something about a pure river.

Washes you clean.

Where is he now?

Working for you.

If that's the way you want it.

You're suggesting that I participate in Vulture trade.

- This boy for your sister. - You said "Vulture," not me.

This kid, he has no home, no family.

So as much as your agency

is a glorified internment camp,

compared to where he's been, it's--it's fucking Claridge's.

You're suggesting that he wipes her memory.

Only her years with the Checquy.

You don't have to worry about leaks,

I don't have to hire a deprogrammer,

and she's not walking around traumatized.

Win-win-win.

What you're suggesting is treason,

among a hundred other crimes.

I know.

But I know something else too.

Somewhere deep down inside of you,

there is a decent person...

who wants to do the right thing

and knows my sister doesn't belong here.

* I've come so close

* To losing you

* Now I won't go so far

* Away from you

* Just to find truth

* Dealt my card

* 'Cause you ease my mind

* I feel alive

* When I'm with you

Wow, Ingrid.

May I say, you-- you look gorgeous tonight.

You may.

What about Teddy?

Teddy?

I thought you were Alex.

- I am. - Bullshit.

You know I can tell you all apart

in a dark room with my hands behind my back.

Good evening.

Oh--oh, it's nice to see you all

having such a lovely time at work for a change.

Um...

this celebration is always special to me, uh,

because of the personal affection that I have

for the founder of our agency,

Sir Henry Wattleman.

I first met Henry when I was six years old.

I was on a fishing boat that actually turned out to be

a KGB spy vessel.

I had been kidnapped

weeks after my EVA manifested.

I'd been tied up and shoved in a hidden compartment.

It was dark and cold and...

absolutely freezing.

I only had this one crack that I could see through

at the back of the boat,

and the waves, the rain,

and my home getting smaller and smaller.

And then...

there appeared a dot in our ship's wake.

Well, it turned out to be an old World War II

harbor defense vessel with three civilians on board--

none of whom were sailors--

who, at the time, formed the entire staff

of an agency that no one cared about

named after their drafty old office building:

the Checquy.

These three civilians proceeded

to ram into our boat

of seven KGB assassins.

And suffice to say that I'm here tonight

to tell the tale, and I'm not speaking Russian, so...

Uh...

I think about...

that time a lot,

when I was utterly helpless.

Because what Sir Henry did

was not the expected thing

nor, frankly, the sensible one.

Without any care for his future

or his safety,

he did whatever it took

to get me out of that dark place

and to bring me home.

So...

may that spirit...

always be with us.

Have a great time. Thank you.

Bonjour.

Hi.

Are you the Cobbler?

Mm-hmm.

Nice setup you have here.

The best.

Photo?

Yeah.

You leave money, come back in two days.

Hey.

Uh, sorry.

Find it all so fascinating.

- 40,000, right? - 50.

50?

That's a bit steep, don't you think?

This booklet is nothing.

A child with scissors can make this.

Mine are legal, officiel,

logged in the system.

That's why you pay.

Okay.

Here's your money.

Hey, hey. Touche pas a!

This guy.

When is he coming back?

Uh, his job is finished, okay? I don't know.

What did you make for him?

Uh, passport, uh, laminate.

Uh, the--the off-cuts, everything--USB.

I have duplicate. It's in the top drawer.

You can keep the money.

It's fake too.

* I'll keep

* This photo safe

* Till my dying day

* We're all fading

Hey.

Hey.

* I'll call on you

It's always been you, Gestalt.

Yeah.

What do you make of that?

You're so strange.

So hard for people to understand.

"What are they? What are they thinking?"

What am I thinking?

May I interrupt?

* I'll look everywhere

Just wanted to make sure

we had a chance to chat before I go.

- You're leaving? - Yeah.

Everyone has a better time when the boss goes home.

I just wanted to say...

look after yourself, dear.

Are you all right, Linda?

Yes.

And contrary to what I've said in the past,

so are you.

* Swim, swim, swim

See you Monday.

* Breathe free

* In this morning light

* Push anxiety away

You're not leaving, are you?

I think it's best I do.

I'm on the brink of regrettable behavior.

Aww.

Now, why would that be regrettable?

Did I tell you...

You look fucking amazing tonight?

* Not to ponder

* Let's make it last forever

* Every time you're gone

I...

I'm sorry, I have to go.

* This moment lasts forever

* Let's make it last forever

* Every time you're gone

* This moment lasts forever

* And what will she say

* Would my heart be torn

* Too hard to call it

* Let's make it last forever

* Every time you're gone

* This moment lasts forever

* Let's make it last forever

* Every time you're gone

* This moment lasts forever

* Let's make it last forever

* Every time you're gone

* This moment lasts forever

Cynthia?

He was here.

Okay? He was here.

This is the guy he uses all the time, okay?

I'm gonna send you, uh, passport numbers, IDs.

I want you to check them against everything that we have.

I don't even know what you're looking for.

Don't you get it? He's not dead.

I know him way better than you do.

He wouldn't just disappear.

- I don't understand. - Maybe he would.

Maybe has a whole other agenda you don't even know about.

I don't hear anything.

Aural hyperacusis.

I can hear select vibrations within a mile radius,

give or take.

He doesn't want to be found.

What are you gonna do?

Keep going for some guy who ghosted you?

If he cared about you, he wouldn't do this.

If you want an answer, you got one.

What do you hear now?

I know someone in there.

Someone I care about.

I hurt her, and uh,

I wish that I didn't, but I did.

Go tell her you're sorry.

I will, just, um, not right now.

Come on, we gotta go.

Put this on.

Put it on.

Standing under seas.

"Dear You, if you're reading this,

you must have returned to your job.

All this time, I thought my attacker could be anyone,

but I've learned I was wrong.

Despite the loyalty I feel for this agency,

the good work it does in this sinister world,

and the deep history I have with those who work here,

the person who hurt you, betrayed you

is right here.

And they know what they did, but I don't know who they are.

don't...

trust...

anyone."

Myfanwy?

Peter.

I work with Lorik Pernaska.

Saw you the other day?

I'm here to collect.

Where is he?

I need to speak with him.

He's got a busy schedule.

Two wives and three girlfriends will do that to you.

What do you need?

My circumstances have changed.

I need to leave tonight.

Well, we can do that.

You have the money?

In my car.

I'll get it.

Where'd you park?

Here, let me help.

You don't need your money.

Why not?

I'm not actually with the Lugat.

What?

Marcus Kevler,

ex-U.S. Bureau of Variant Affairs.

Lorik was gonna get you out of here as promised,

but these guys have their own agenda.

They're planning to kidnap you.

Don't worry, that's not happening.

I'm working with someone who can explain.

Hey, Myf.

It's me...

Bronwyn.

What?

Oh, my God, it's you.

Yeah.

It's me.

We're here to take you home.

This is a--an intervention,

a rescue party.

- Farrier's agreed. - She what?

I don't understand.

- Who's that? - This is Nazim.

He's a level 8 EVA

with an ability to selectively erase memories--

past traumas, people...

places.

He can erase the Checquy.

You can literally forget all of this ever happened.

The only way Farrier would let you leave that place

is if you could somehow forget it ever existed.

Your childhood...

all of it will still be there.

This is it.

What?

This is the prophecy.

I--I was told this was going to happen.

I...

I just never thought it would be like this.

What the hell could be taking so long, huh?

Maybe they stopped off for a shag.

I'm serious. They're taking too long.

Myfanwy?

What Josie said, it's true.

I know. You were right.

Why would you agree to this?

Myfanwy, you still have a choice.

As hard as you've tried to outrun your fate,

your journey took you right back to it.

Please just trust me.

You don't have to run away and hide on your own.

You can be with me and start your new life.

Your sister wants good things for you,

which is more than I can say for the Lugat.

God, I--I don't want to lose everything.

As much as it pains me to say,

you've never been happy here.

You've always been... anxious, afraid,

medicated.

- Might not be me anymore. - Yes, you will.

But you'll be who you were born to be,

not what we made you.

I don't want to go.

I don't want you to either.

But we both know it's for the best.

Myfanwy, I - I, um ...

I will miss you.

I'll miss you too.

Fuck.

Something's wrong.

Myfanwy!

Come on.

Hold her still. I'll sedate her.

- Grab her! - Stop!

Leave her alone!

Farrier, fresh off the panic lines.

There's been an incident at Millennium Bridge.