All language subtitles for Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (1979) EP3 (moviesbyrizzo)

- There should be a file
of some size,

and we need to see it.

- That's Circus material,
George.

I can only deliver
from the Minister.

- I know that look,
George.

I'm breaking
into the Circus, am I?

Playing Burglar Bill?

- If you wouldn't mind,
Peter.

And while
you're enjoying yourself,

I shall visit Oxford
to look up

an old and
invaluable friend.

- Please, don't take
any unnecessary risks.

[lock clinking]

- [whispering]
Come on...

[intense instrumental music]

II

[despairing instrumental music]

II

[bell tolling]

[doorbell buzzes]

[dog barking]

[dog barking]

- Shut up, Flush.

Stop it!

Stop it, old boy.

It's only a dunderhead.

[(109 growls]

Flush, shut up.

[(109 barks]

George Smiley.

Oh, well, you lovely,
darling man.

You haven't come
to sell me a-a Hoover.

You're my gorgeous George.

- Connie.

- Oh, George.

Oh.

Jingle, darling,
could you possibly

make it tomorrow?

Oh, don't be cross,
Jingle.

It isn't often
my oldest, oldest lover

comes to see me.

Oh, George, if only
I had seen you first.

I'll give you a whole hour
all to yourself.

Honestly, I will,
darling.

[door slams shut]

One of my dunderheads.

I will teach.

I don't know why.

Oh, George.

Of all the lovely, darling
men I ever knew.

He walked, Flush.

Did you see his shoes?

[sighs]

Oh.

Bless you, darling.

God bless.

Mm.

Did he walk alone,
Flush?

Not accompanied,
were we?

- Quite alone,
Connie.

- So what does George want
from Connie,

the bad boy?

- Her memory.

To go over some
very old ground, Connie.

- Hear that, Flush?

First they chuck us out
a little bone,

then they come
begging to us.

I was the best head of research
the Circus ever had.

Everyone knew that.

And what did they say
the day

they gave me
the chop?

That personnel cow:

"You're losing your sense
of proportion, Connie.

It's time you got out
into the real world."

Well, l...

I hate the real world.

I like the Circus
and my-my lovely boys.

- Polyakov.

Aleksey Aleksandrovich
Polyakov.

Cultural Attache,
Soviet Embassy, London.

- Born March 3, 1922,
in the Ukraine.

Graduate of Leningrad
State University.

Height 5'10".

Color of eyes: green.
Color of hair: black.

Married but unaccompanied
by wife,

and a six-cylinder
Karla-trained hood

if ever I saw one.

But don't tell Percy Alleline
or Toby Esterhase.

Oh, no.

Aleksey Aleksandrovich was
as pure as the driven snow.

He was parcel white,
wasn't he, Flush?

And Connie's an old silly,

'cause if she doesn't lay off
and do as she's told,

we'd have to pack our bags
and go.

- He's come alive.

Polyakov.

Just as you predicted.

- Course he has.

Of course he has.

I knew it
in my bones.

The day he arrived,
lthoughL

"Hello. I'm gonna have some fun
with you."

Tough as a button.

Culture attache?
Balls.

Army written
all over him.

But not declared, George-
not a mention.

Oh, he had
a lovely voice.

Mellow like yours.

I used to play the tapes
over and over

just to-to bathe in it.

Bottom-pincher too.
[chuckles]

I just know.

Not that we ever
caught him at it.

We might have done
if Tobe had played along

and offered him
a bum or two,

but Tiny Tobe wouldn't.

Eight years.

I watched pretty Poly
for eight years.

Then last Remembrance Day,

I got him.

There he was
that smashing November morning

at the wreath-laying,

and we photographed
his medals:

two gallantry
and four campaign.

Oh, yes.

Aleks Polyakov was
a star soldier,

just as I told them,

and not a word.

So I said to Toby,

"Listen, you two-faced ferret.

"Ego has got the better part
of cover,

"and that's nothing new.

"Now will you turn pretty Poly
inside out for me,

because Connie's little hunch
has turned up trumps."

- And what did
Toby Esterhase say?

- Oh, I got
the dead fish voice.

"Tell Percy Alleline.
Percy's in charge."

- And then?

- "Not every ex-warrior's
a Karla agent," says Percy.

I said,
"Listen, Percy,

"Polyakov's running
an English mole."

So I get the rude letter.

"Stop it or else."

So I wrote at the bottom,
"Yes. Repeat: no."

So here we are.

Flush and me.

Please kiss me, George.

Hey, ho.

Halcyon days.

Did I start
the landslide, George?

- You were always
dead-right, Connie.

- And is George now
picking up the pieces?

- Something
of the sort.

- Poor loves.

Trained to empire.

Trained to rule the waves.

Englishmen could be
proud then.

They could, George.

All gone.

Taken away.

Bye-bye, world.

If it's bad, George,

don't come back.

Promise?

I want to remember you
just as you were.

My lovely, lovely boys.

Promise?

[despairing instrumental music]

II

[horn blaring]

- The pages have been removed
with a razor blade.

No mention whatever of
Ricki Tarfs cables from Lisbon.

No Irina, No Boris,
no Tarr.

There's a note scribbled
on the next page,

which says "all inquiries
to Head of London Station."

It's in Toby Esterhase's
handwriting.

The janitofs attendance list
has also been removed.

Nothing to tell us who was
duty officer that night,

nor even who was
in the building.

- Connie's appraisal matches
the story Irina gave Ricki Tarr.

The implications,
the indications,

are that Karla has managed
to build himself

a cadre of senior men
placed about the globe

who work directly
and exclusively to him

at Moscow Center.

Polyakov is Karla's
executant in London.

- You offer that
as a working hypothesis.

- Operation Witchcraft.

That vital of flow
of Russian intelligence

which happily came
Alleline's way.

"Supplementary estimates
to the Treasury.

"Special accommodation
in London.

'Wider exploitation.

See also: secret annex."

May I see it?

- The Minister keeps it
in his personal safe.

- Do you know
the combination?

- Certainly not.

- What's the title of
this unobtainable document?

- It doesn't have one.

It's highly secret,

and we've done everything
humanly possible

to keep the readership
to a minimum.

- The supplier of
the Witchcraft material

is our old friend Merlin.

Does the file
give his identity?

- Don't be ridiculous.

The Minister wouldn't
want to know.

And Alleline wouldn't
want to tell him.

- What does
"wider exploitation" mean?

- I refuse to be
interrogated, George.

I entirely fail to see why
you should waste your time

pursuing this line
of inquiry.

By right, I should have you
specially cleared

before I let you see
any of this.

- Witchcraft cleared?

- Yes, George.

- Do we have a list of people
who've been cleared in that way?

- I hope you're not going fey,
George.

Please stick
with the primary problem:

the mole, Gerald,

instead of rootling around
in extraneous matters.

This is no time
to be whimsical.

- Oh, are you off?

You won't forget
Prideaux, will you?

Anything at all you can
get on him-

even scraps would help.

- He has a point, George.

Witchcraft and Merlin.

Polyakov and the mole.

Prideaux getting himself
shotup

on some wild goose chase
of Control's

in the rural charms
of Czechoslovakia.

You think it all connects?

- I think, Peter,
I'm not the first

to make this journey
of exploration.

I believe Control was here
before me.

He might even have made
the full distance

but for the bullets
in Prideaux's back.

"There are three of them
and Alleline."

Control's words.

He meant Operation Witchcraft,
of course.

Merlin's minders,
or inventors,

or programmers,

or marionettes,

or what?

- Why was Control always
so hostile to Alleline?

Percy wasn't
a complete fool.

- Percy can flirt, Peter,

and Control hadn't reckoned
on the power

of the Alleline lobby.

- Who were they?
- Golfers.

Golfers and conservatives
is what Control said to me.

I got a call from Control
one day,

very sharp,
very combative.

"George, come in here,
or there'll be bloodshed."

- Hmph.

Brother Percy's trying
to twist my tail.

Take a look
at this nonsense.

Top level Soviet naval dispatch,

specially prepared
for the Soviet High Command.

Isn't it, Percy'?

An appreciation
of the naval exercises

in the Mediterranean
and Black Sea,

which our sailors have been
screening for details,

haven't they, Percy'?

- Topicality's always suspect.

- Yes, George.

Would you like to repeat that
for Percy'?

- Who made the translation?

- God made it,
didn't he, Percy'?

Don't ask him anything.
He won't tell you.

- Shore-to-sea strike power,

radio activation
of enemy alert procedures.

This is hardly my territory.

- Don't let that worry you.

Total ignorance of subject
matter doesn't bother Percy.

- [chuckles]

- Whose initials are these?

- Zharov.

Admiral, Black Sea Fleet.

- What do
our own evaluators say?

- They've not seen it,

and what's more,
they're not going to.

- However, my brother in Christ,
Lilley, of naval intelligence

has passed a preliminary
opinion, has he not, Percy'?

Percy showed it to him
last night.

Over a pink gin,
was it, Percy'?

- At the Admiralty.

- Note that, George.

They battened down
the hatches

and bunged up the portholes
for Percy.

Brother Lilley telephoned me
a half an hour ago

to congratulate me.

He believes this material to be
neither a plant

nor chicken feed,
but genuine gold dust,

and he seeks
our permission to-

Percy's,
I suppose I should say-

to apprise his fellow
sea lords of its conclusions.

- Quite impossible.

It's for his eyes only,

at least for
another couple of weeks.

- It's so hot,
you see, George.

- But where does it come from?

Who's the case officer?

- You'll enjoy this.

- Source Merlin has access
to the most sensitive levels

of Soviet policymaking.

We've dubbed his product
'Witchcraft."

- And ask him who "we" are,
George.

- Merlin is the fruit
of a long cultivation

by certain people
in the service-

people who are bound to me
as I am to them;

people who are not
at all entertained

by the failure rate
about this place.

Been too much blown,
too much lost, wasted.

Too many scandals.

I've said so many times,

but I might as well have talked
to the wind

for all the heed
he paid me.

- "He" means me, George.

- The ordinary principles
of tradecraft and security

have gone to the wall
in this service.

It's all divide and rule
stimulated from the top.

- Me again.

- We're losing our livelihood,
our self-respect.

We've had enough.

We've had a bellyful,
in fact.

Please?

Thank you.

- And like everybody
who's ever had enough,

he wants more.

"This service."

Percy Alleline would sell
his mother for a knighthood

and this service for a seat
in the House of Lords.

- Suppose Merlin's genuine.

- Suppose Merlin
would pick Percy'?

- It seems somebody has.

- I gather Percy's
under the impression

he picked himself
and the whole team.

You're sure he left you out,
are you, George?

- What are you going
to do about it?

- Depends on "it".

I'll wait for "it"
to show itself.

In the meantime, I see nothing
to deal with

except Percy's envious eye
on my chair.

And I've put my thumb
in that optic before.

[phone ringing]

- George, tittle-tattle
Tuesday again.

- All right, Percy.

- By:

This time.

- Oh, Lord.

I thought we'd be
half over by now.

Have you got a rabbit to pull
out of your hat today, Percy'?

You've got that "Britain can
make it" look about you.

Very intimidating.

Should we have brought
our sandwiches?

- I'll be brief, Bill,
so long as I'm not obstructed.

- I'm sorry.
Traffic.

Should have walked.

- I think you
and Percy between you

are contriving to keep me
off the streets.

- They're all here now, sir.

Would you go in, please,
gentlemen?

- How often do I have
to emphasize

the extreme sensitivity
of the source

of the Witchcraft product?

I must insist
there is no existing method

of Whitehall distribution
to meet the case.

Do I have to remind you
of that disgraceful incident

when an undersecretary-

albeit overworked,
so be it.

But the fact remains
the man actually gave

his dispatch box key
to his personal assistant.

We simply cannot afford that
kind of ludricrous insecurity

when we are handling
Witchcraft.

Now.

[match scrapes]

[puffing]

I have already discussed
the problem

with Lilley
of naval intelligence,

and he is prepared to put
at our disposal

a special main reading room
in the Admiralty main building

where Witchcraft material
can be seen by our customers

and watched over
by a senior janitor

of this service.

- Wouldn't you rather have
secure recall?

- The reading room will be known
for cover purposes

as the conference room
of the Adriactic Working Party-

the AWP room for short.

- [guffaws]
Thank you.

- Customers with reading rights
will not have passes,

since these can be
too accessible,

like keys.

Instead they will be appear
on a special list

with their photographs,

and they will indentify
themselves personally

to my janitor.

- Who's janitor, Percy?

- Well, he's already got
his own personal wizard.

The odd commissionaire seems
modest enough domestic stock.

- [coughing]

- Allowing that all of this
is necessary...

- Essential.

- My Minister will want to know
a lot more about the cost.

He'll want it to appear
to be borne by the Admiralty

even if you have
to reimburse covertly.

- Yes, of course.

The reading room will have to be
extensively rebuilt

to begin with.

Now, I would like to call
your attention

to the Foreign Office comment

on the most recent
Witchcraft product.

And I quote:

"This document sheds
an extraordinary sidelight

on Soviet aggressive thinking."

- Does that mean they like it,
Percy'?

- [chuckles quietly]

- Do you like it, Bill?

It's from the very heart
of your territory.

- Buying their way in
with counterfeit money.

Tell them that.

Tell them anything.
I need time.

There are three of them
and Alleline.

Sweat them, George.
Tempt them.

Bully them,
any damn thing.

Give them whatever they eat.
I need time.

' [sighs]

[chuckles softly]

[urgent instrumental music]

II

[bell rings]

- [stamping]

Prompt as ever,
Mr. Smiley.

- How are your children,
Toby?

- Doing terribly well.
Thank you, George.

- The boy's at Westminster.
Have I got that right?

Your daughter's probably left
school by now, has she?

- First-year medical student.
Loves it.

- Good for her.

Toby, I have to ask you this.

Sorry to come prying-

Your department's a long way
behind with its worksheets,

two months almost.

Now, why is that?

It's not lamplighter style.

- Well, we're not
infallible, George.

Two months?
Well, I won't question it.

Is it terribly important?

Of course if you say it is,

then I'll see its dealt with,
of course.

- The question is
why, Toby?

Let me be blunt.

- Not your style, George.

I'm allowed to say that, surely.

I am, after all,
one of your oldest proteges.

Vienna was a long time ago.

- You haven't, perhaps,
been using your staff

in any special jobs lately,
have you?

Either at home or abroad.

I mean, the kind
of special jobs, which,

for good reasons of security,

you haven't felt able to mention
in your returns.

- Who would I do that for,
George?

You know in my book,
that's completely illegal.

- Well, if Percy Alleline,
for example,

ordered you to do something
and not record it,

that would put you
in a difficult position.

- What sort of something?

- Clear a foreign letter box,
prime a safe house,

watch someone's back,
spike an embassy.

It's all lamplighter work.

If Percy told you to do it,

you might
quite reasonably assume

he was acting on instructions
from the fifth floor.

- I do like the service,
George.

I may be sentimental about it,
but I prefer to stay in it.

Now, you understand that.

You of all people.

My problem is promotion.

I mean the absence of it.

I've so many years seniority,

that I feel actually
quite embarrassed

when these young fellows ask me
to take orders from them.

- Who, Toby?

Which young fellows?
Roy Bland?

Percy'?
Would you call Percy young?

Who?

- When you're overdue
for promotion

and working your fingers
to the bone,

anyone looks young
who is above you on the ladder.

- Have you been taking orders?

- You know the line
of command, George.

- Perhaps Control could move
you up a few rungs.

- Well, you know, actually,

I'm not sure he's able to
these days.

Are you?

- So what's the deal?

- There isn't a deal,
Roy, really.

It's just that Control feels
the present situation

is unhealthy.

He doesn't like to see you
getting mixed up with a cabal.

Frankly, nor do I.

- So what's the deal?

- What do you want?

- What about 5,000 quid out
the reptile fund for starters?

- And a house and a car?
- And the kid to Eton.

- Your father would turn
in his grave.

- Let him rotate,

the old commie thug.

If there's no deal, George,
you'll have to tell Control

he can get stuffed.

I've paid, you see.
You know that.

I don't know what the hell
I bought with it,

but I've paid a packet.

Poznan, Budapest, Prague,
back to Poznan.

Have you ever been
to Poznan?

Sofia, Kiev.

Two bloody nervous breakdowns
and still between the shafts.

That's big money at any age,

even yours.

- Oh, no one can deny that, Roy.

- And you brought me in,
remember.

If you think I'm going to
the bag,

you've only got yourself
to blame.

[bell tolling]

You're an educated
sort of a swine.

An artist is a bloke
who can hold

two fundamentally opposing
views and still function.

Who dreamed that one up?

- Scott Fitzgerald.

- Well, Fitzgerald knew
a thing or two,

and I'm definitely functioning.

As a good socialist,
I'm going where the money is.

As a good capitalist,
I'm sticking with the revolution

because if you can't beat it,
spy on it.

Don't look like that, George.

It's the name of the game
these days.

You scratch my conscience,
I'll drive your Jag, right?

- No.

Did you get that from Haydon?

Is that one of Bill's jokes
about materialist England?

The pigs-in-clover society?

- Did you like it?
- Not much.

Of course there are competitive
and inquisitive instincts

in Western society.

But they are offset
against other concerns,

which you won't find in-

- Poznan, Budapest,
Kiev, Sofia-

tell me all about it,
George.

I'm just saying
that's England now, man.

All you have to do is look out
the bloody window.

- You're seen with Bill Haydon
a great deal these days.

- Jealous, George?

You've got his job.

You're Control's
high chamberlain.

What more do you want?

Long as it lasts.

[ominous instrumental music]

II

- Did you say
you write the reports?

- I thought that
was Roy's job.

- No, Bland makes
the translations.

You write
the covering reports.

They're typed
on your machine.

The material's not cleared
for typists.

- Percy Alleline won't do.
Is that the premise?

Which means that Merlin
won't do, either.

Poor old Control.
He is in a pickle.

Merlin would do if he were
my source, wouldn't he?

If dazzling bloody Bill here
pottered along

and said he'd hooked
a whacking big fish,

and wanted to play him alone
and sod the expense,

what would happen then?

Control would say, "That's very
nifty of you, Bill, boy.

"You do it just the way
you want, Bill, boy.

Have some filthy jasmine tea."

He'd be giving me
a medal now,

instead of sending you
snooping around corridors.

[sighs]

We used to be rather
a classy bunch.

Why are we so vulgar
these days?

- He thinks Percy's
on the make.

- So he is.

I also want to be head boy.

And Toby and Roy have designs
on your spot.

[sighs]

Since when was ambition
an offense

in our beastly outfit?

Is Ann at home?

Sent her out to play
while you grill your old buddy.

- Who runs him, Bill?

- Percy?

Who do you think?

Karla runs him.

Stands out a mile.

Lower-class bloke
with upper-class sources,

must be a bounder.

- Bill?

- Percy is sold out
to Karla,

only possible explanation.

Percy is
our house mole.

- I meant who runs Merlin?

Who is Merlin?

What's going on?

- This is a Callot,
isn't it?

It's nice,
very nice.

- Bill.

- Doesn't anyone think
my nose should be out of joint?

I'm supposed to be in charge
of the Russian target.

I've given it
my best years,

set up networks,
talent-spotters,

all mod cons.

You chaps on the top floor
have forgotten what it's like

to run an operation

where it takes you three days
to post a letter,

and you don't even get an answer
for your trouble.

- That's hardly fair
to Control.

You've heard him 100 times
on how

he detests the glamour boy
agents who hog the budget;

how he hates miracles

if they put the bread-and-butter
networks out of focus.

- It's a pity he doesn't have
the same hatred of failure.

Has he lived with it
too long?

Face it, George.

It's Percy.

Percy's success.

It's thrown Control...

and me a bit.

Trouble is, my networks
haven't been good enough.

This is new.

I fancy this very much.

- Ann gave it to me.

- Making amends?

- Probably.

- Must've been quite a sin.

How is she?

George, cut the cord.

Get away from Control.

He's cut you out of his life
for weeks on end,

dispatching you about
with errands

a probationer could handle.

What's he doing up there?

He's been going through files
of old Circus folk heroes

from year minus one-

half of them
under the earth already,

sniffing out the dirt

to see who was pink,

who was a queen.

He's given us all up,
hasn't he?

- I don't think that's true.

- Senile paranoia.

Control's going potty,

and he's also dying.

It's just a question of which
gets him first.

- And within six months
of Bill Haydon's diagnosis,

Control was, indeed, dead.

- And what killed him?

Operation Witchcraft
or Operation Testify?

- Neither.

But let's not be melodramatic.

Control would disapprove.

He died of old age...

a little early.

But Testify destroyed
his function in life,

which was a form
of murder.

I don't have nearly enough
on Testify, Peter.

Would you please, uh...

- Of course, George.

[earnest instrumental music]

II

- Telephone for you,
sir.

Ever such a rough voice.

Says it's someone
from your garage,

and I can quite believe it.

- Right.

- Your rude mechanic has
some bad news for you.

[telephone ringing]

[telephone ringing]

Personally, I find mechanics
are bad news,

by and large.

- Which phone, Alwyn?
- The one on the left.

- [laughing]

- Well, at least get on
to the head office today

and find out when
they can supply the damn thing!

Hang on a minute.

I think I got the number.

Alwyn, sling that bag across
for me, will you, please?

- I will, sir.

There you go.

Open it for you?

- No, thanks.

Right, are you ready'?

The number you want is
4, 3, 7...

8,2...

9, 9.

[phone rings]

- It seems to be going
according to plan.

- Thank you.

- Peter does sound jumpy.

He might have overdone it
a bit there.

He was very loud.

I've seen it happen before-

tough ones who crack
at 40.

You lock it all away,
pretend it isn't happening,

and all of a sudden,
you find them at their desks,

the tears pouring
on the blotter.

I thought I ought to say
what's on my mind.

- I think Peter
will manage.

You heard something
about his murderous assignment

in French North Africa,
though, I suppose?

- Heard something.
Whispers.

- Peter was overmatched,
and he lost.

His agents were hanged.

No one recovers entirely
from that sort of thing.

That is, I wouldn't trust a man
who did.

[police siren wailing by]

[telephone ringing]

- Right.
Bank, please.

[anxious instrumental music]

II

- Peter, I am sorry
to disturb you,

but we have a tiny crisis.

Percy Alleline would like
a word with you-

quite an urgent word.

Can you come now?

- Of course, Toby.
Have you been waiting?

Didn't you tell Mr. Esterhase
where I was?

- We've only just got here,
Peter.

Your office told us you were
doing a spot of divining.

Only Percy's anxious
to speak to you now, you see.

- Alwyn, there's a midday
shuttle to Brixton, isn't there?

- Yes.

- You might give Transport
a buzz and ask them

to take that thing over me
for me, will you?

- Will do, sir.
Will do.

[elevator lift whirrs]

- Percy wants to consult you.

Peter...

Please.

[foreboding instrumental music]

II

- Wotcher, Pete.

II

- [chuckling]

No, she put them on again.

[sighs]

- Well, now,
young Peter Guillam,

welcome to my house,

about which you've been
making calls, I hear.

Are you lonely
in the Brixton outposts?

Tired of chasing
the local virgins?

If there are any in Brixton,
which I would doubt.

[laughs]

If you'll excuse
my freedom, Mo.

You do know
that Mo Delaware is

our new head of research,
do you?

Man with message and cleft stick
does reach Brixton, does he?

- Barring the monsoon.

- I hear you've been hobnobbing

with the late,
lamented Ricki Tarr.

Formally of your section,

dispatched by you to Lisbon,

and since then, has stood by
this service as a defector.

How is he?

- That's right, chief.

Ricki and I have tea
at Fortnum's every afternoon.

Jasmine.

- Peter Guillam,

you may not be aware of this,
but I am possessed

of an extremely
forgiving nature.

I positively seethe
with goodwill.

All I require from you is

the matter of your discussion
with Tarr.

I do not ask for his head

or any other part
of his offensive anatomy,

and I will restrain
my impulse personally

to strangle him
or you.

I would even go so far
as to consider

bringing you back into
the palace from hateful Brixton,

where presently you linger
in well-earned obscurity.

- In that case, I can't wait
for him to turn up.

- And there's a free pardon
for your friend Ricki,

until I get my hands
on him.

- I'll tell him that
word for word.

He'll be thrilled.

- [stifled chuckle]

- I'm very disappointed in you,
young Peter.

I pay you honest money,

and you stab me
in the back.

I consider that
extremely poor reward

for keeping you alive

against the entreaties
of my advisors, I may tell you.

Let us begin again.

If you won't give me
a straight answer,

perhaps you will unburden
to somebody more persuasive.

Roy.

- [coughing]

- Ricki Tarr's got
a daughter, hasn't he?

- Yes.
He calls her Danny.

- Talk about her a lot?

- He told me
he was fond of her.

That's all I know.

- What the hell are you
shrugging at us like that for?

I'm accusing you of playing
hooky behind my back,

with a damned defective
from your own damned section;

of playing damn-fool
parlor games,

when you don't know the stakes,

and all you do is shrug at me?

There's a law, Guillam,

about consorting
with enemy agents!

Do you want me
to throw the book at you?

- I haven't seen him!

Who's playing games?
Not me.

You are.
So get off my back.

- Who's Danny's mother?

- Eurasian girl.

But Tarr likes to think
she passes for full European

and the child.

- 12 years old,
long blond hair,

brown eyes, slim.

Is that Danny'?

- It could be.

- So if I told you that Danny
and her mother were due

to arrive in London
three days ago

on a direct flight
from Tunis,

I take it you would share
our perplexity?

- Yes, I would.

- And you'd keep
your mouth shut

when we let you out of here?

- It isn't ordinary
flight information, Peter.

The source is very private.

- Ultra, ultra sensitive,
in fact, Peter.

- In that case, Toby,
I'll try and keep my mouth

ultra, ultra shut.

- So what do you make of it,
young Peter?

Come on.

You were his boss, guide,
philosopher, friend.

Tell me why Ricki Tarr is
in London.

- You didn't say that.

You said his girl and his kid
were expected.

- Don't be obtuse, man.

Where little Danny goes,
there goes Tarr.

Except he'd move first and have
his impedimenta follow...

Yes?

- That would be favoured.

All right, Tarr was supposed to
be sitting in Moscow,

and now he's supposed to be back
here on the Russian payroll?

Well, why is it all
so hot?

What kind of plant
can he be

when we know everything
about him?

Down to his last attack
of swine fever,

from which he's only partially
recovered in my view.

Excuse my freedom, Mo.

I'm sorry, but what kind
of plant is that?

- Well, never mind what sort.

Muddying pools,
poisoning wells.

Maybe that damn sort.

Pulling the rug out.

Now, listen,
just you remember this:

at the first peep,

the first whisper of Tarr
or his lady

or his wee bairn,

young Peter Guillam,

you come to one of us
grown-ups-

anyone you see at this table,

but not another damn soul.

The name on the passport
is Poole.

P-O-O-L-E.

All three of them.

Tarr told his woman,
so we understand,

in case of difficulties,
she should come to you.

- Sign that, Peter,
would you?

- Stupid bloody cabaret.

Percy gets more insufferable
every day.

[gate squeaking]

[tense instrumental music]

II

[horn blaring]

- Damn you, sodding snail.
- Peter.

- Tam
That bastard Tarr!

- Peter, slow down.

Slow down.

- The file on Testify seemed
a bit thin.

I hope it was worth
the sweat.

- Ricki Tarr has not lied
to us, Peter.

Not in any material way.

He's simply done what agents
the world over do:

fail to tell us
the whole story.

On the other hand,

he has been rather clever.

- Are you actually pleased
with him?

- Well, yes.

We now know that Source Merlin
works to Moscow Center,

because that's where
Merlin's information

on Ricki Tarr
must have come from-

from Karla.

[Song of Simeon]

- ♪ Lord ♪

♪ Now lettest thou ♪

♪ Thy servant ♪

♪ Depart in peace ♪

I ♪

♪ According to Thy word ♪

I ♪

♪ For mine eyes ♪

♪ Have seen Thy salvation ♪

I ♪

♪ Which Thou hast prepared ♪

♪ Before the face ♪

♪ Of all people ♪

I ♪

♪ To be a light ♪

♪ To lighten ♪

♪ The Gentiles ♪

♪ And to be the glory ♪

♪ Of Thy people ♪

♪ Israel ♪

I ♪

♪ Glory be to the Father ♪

♪ And to the Son ♪

♪ And to the Holy Ghost ♪

♪ As it was
in the beginning ♪

♪ ls now and ever shall be ♪

I ♪

♪ World without end ♪

♪ Amen ♪