All language subtitles for Murder, She Wrote S03E04 One White Rose for Death.DVDRip.NonHI.en

Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

And you will do me the courtesy
of opening the bloody gate now, sir,

because if it is not open by the time
we arrive, my driver will smash it in.

I see. It's perfectly all right to
drag me all over town at gunpoint.

Risk my neck, dodging traffic,
being chased by German spies.

Good Lord!

Mr. Kendall, he's
dead. Murdered.

By who? By one
of us it is obvious.

And you are keeping
me here against my will.

- You are a suspect
in a murder investigation.
- There's a killer loose.

Thinkin' of spendin'
holiday there, are you, boyo?

You'd have to be a mountain
goat to love that spot.

The Carpathians, I'd say.
Eastern Czechoslovakia.

What are we looking
for? Missile sites.

The photographs-
are they from our,

uh, East German
friend "The Musician"?

What's the source?
Still the Steiner woman?

How do you know that?

I'm taking your place, Jack.

Dennis McKelvie, London
Evening Sentinel, at your service.

And I thought you'd retired.

A foolish and impulsive decision
I had the good sense to reassess.

So they're finally sending
you back to Africa then.

Central America.

Too many foreign agents
know this face of mine.

Mmm.

So, uh, can I trust you
to carry on this operation?

Ho ho ho.

Mrs. Fletcher!

Thank heavens. I was
afraid I'd missed you.

Dreadful places airports. Andrew
Wyckham, King's Lane Publisher's Limited.

How do you do, Mr. Wyckham? I
was looking for Geoffrey Phillips.

Poor fellow got called to the
West Coast late last evening.

Some silly crisis. I'm
afraid you're stuck with me.

But I'll try and make
your stay enjoyable.

Well, it won't be
much of a stay,

but when Geoffrey told me about
my invitation to the party tonight,

I couldn't resist. Party?

My dear lady, it is merely
the social event of the year.

Greta Mueller's
farewell performance...

followed by a reception at the
estate of Senator Constable...

with none other than the prime
minister as the guest of honor.

Geoffrey is devastated,
I can assure you.

Well, I would be too.

But how I managed to
be invited to the party,

I'll never understand.
Greta Mueller, of course.

She is your devoted fan...

and absolutely determined
not to leave without meeting you.

Oh, I feel very flattered.

I've arranged for us to travel
in style. I hope you approve.

Well, that looks lovely.

Mrs. Jessica Fletcher? Yes.

I'm Gerhardt Brunner, Chief of Security
for Miss Mueller's American concert tour.

Oh, how do you do?
This is Mr. Wyckham.

Mr. Wyckham. How do you do?

Well, if you are the
gentleman responsible

for our invitations
for tonight's festivities,

I'm most grateful
to you, Mr. Brunner.

It is Miss Mueller
whom you should thank.

In fact, if it isn't too
inconvenient for you,

she would very much like you
to come by the concert hall now.

- She is most anxious to meet you.
- Well, I-

And it will be a great
personal favor to me.

Of course.

Will you follow us
then, please? Certainly.

I say,

must be a formidable lady to intimidate
an officer in the East German Volkspolizei.

The Volks what? Secret police.

I can see, dear lady, you have a
lot to learn about international affairs.

♪

Greta. Franz, I cannot
rehearse under these conditions.

Fräulein Mueller.
Oh, Mrs. Fletcher!

Mrs. Fletcher, what a delight
it makes to meet you at last.

Oh, the pleasure is mine,
Miss Mueller, I assure you.

- Fräulein Mueller, may I introduce
Mr. Andrew Wyckham.
- How do you do?

A good part of my English I have learned
from reading every one of your books.

Oh! Yes, every one.

And I am so much in
admiration for your talent.

But also for your independence
and power of character.

Well, I'm very flattered. You must
forgive my sister, Mrs. Fletcher.

She has a garbled gift for
hyperbole, but she's quite sincere.

- I hope this sudden request
has not inconvenienced you.
- Of course not.

Good. When Greta wants something, it is
easier for us all to accede to her wishes.

- Oh, Franz, don't be such a sourpuss.
- I assume that rehearsal is over
for this morning, sister.

If you will excuse me.

As you can see, my older brother
delights in treating me like a child.

Oh, yes, older brothers. I had a
couple of those when I was growing up.

Reminds me of the
time some years ago,

I was visiting with
this tribal chief...

in one of those African countries
with a funny name. I-I don't know.

And a chap wanted to set
up libraries in all of his villages.

There was only one drawback.

None of his people
could read a bloody word.

That's a very attentive
watchdog you have, Miss Mueller.

Uh, afraid you’ll
defect, is that it?

Greta? Defect?

I'm afraid my sister is as
political as a chocolate bar.

On that point,
Franz and I agree.

Miss Mueller?

Yes? Dennis McKelvie.

The London Evening Sentinel.

Forgive the intrusion. I wonder if
you could grant me a short interview.

- Thank you, but I--
Oh, yes, Mr. McKelvie,

I have heard a great deal of
your work from a mutual friend.

- My sister and I would be delighted
to chat with you.
- Franz.

You are most gracious, sir. Perhaps
backstage this evening. Would that-

Well, well, well, J.B. Fletcher.

What a delightful and
unexpected surprise.

- Dennis McKelvie, ma'am.
- Yes.

You are the last person
I expected to find here.

Yes, I can see that,
Mr. McKelvie. Yes.

Mr. McKelvie and I have
met-Uh, when was that?

Uh, London. Two
years ago, October.

I interviewed you. Oh,
yes, for the B.S.CH.

The London Evening Sentinel.
Oh, yes. Uh, I remember.

How fortunate that you did.

Will you be, uh, staying
in the city, ma'am?

At the Kensington. Lovely.

- We'll have to get together then.
- Yes, we have so much to, uh, talk about.

Who is it?

King George here ready to
reclaim the colonies from usurpers.

Who do you think it is,
woman? Michael. Or is it Dennis?

Dennis this week. And I'll
thank you to remember it.

I'm not yet ready to be
interred in the family plot.

Then it's a good thing
that you opened your mouth

in that restaurant
before I put my foot in it.

Yes, I could see you were about to
make a terrible fool out of one of us.

Oh, Jessica, you're
as lovely as ever.

And you're as devious as ever. I'm afraid
to even ask you what you're up to now.

Oh, ah, just a minor
assignment for the government.

- You're back with M.I.5?
- S.I.S. Same game, different name.

But that's enough
chat about work.

As I recall, madam, we
have a long-standing date...

which you have been
studiously avoiding.

But I haven't seen
you for over a year.

An oversight which we shall rectify by
spending the next several days together.

Oh, Michael, I can't.
There's this concert tonight.

Followed by the reception
at Senator Constable's,

at which I intend to
monopolize your attentions.

Unless of course you
prefer, um, what's-his-name.

- Oh, Mr. Wyckham.
- Wyckham.

He's business. Good, good.

Tomorrow evening then, we'll
rekindle the embers over dinner...

at a lovely restaurant
I found in Alexandria.

After which, I trust, we will
both be on our worst behavior.

Franz, you have got to
talk to Colonel Brunner.

He's become impossible.
What is it, Greta?

I wanted to ask Mrs. Fletcher to tour with
me the Smithsonian Institution tomorrow,

and Brunner forbids it. Forbids!

Oh, Franz, I am not a child.

Greta, we cannot always
do what we want in this world.

Colonel Brunner is
responsible for our well-being.

Oh, yes, and we mustn't criticize Colonel
Brunner, no matter how stupid he becomes.

What is the matter
with you, Franz?

You let that man lead you
about holding on your nose.

If you mean I am loyal, yes.

It's the British journalist.
I'll speak to him.

Oh, such a pouty face. Come,
Greta. Hmm, a little smile.

I'll speak to Brunner.

There might be a
problem with Ilsa Steiner.

She's dropped
out of sight. What?

Now easy, man, easy,
we're discussin' Chopin.

She hasn't been seen since early
this morning. She wouldn't betray me.

Maybe not.

Kendall.

Repeat that please.

I see.

No. I'll contact him
myself immediately.

♪

♪

♪

The girl was wonderful.
Simply marvelous.

Oh, Andrew, there's nothing simple
about what she does with a violin.

No, I suppose not.

I wish I was more
musical. Ah, Mr. McKelvie.

Listen to me. Keep moving.
Head for the main door.

What? I've called
for your limousine.

- I'll be right behind you.
- But, uh-Ah, Mr. McKelvie.

Look here, old fellow, we'd
like to catch the second half.

There isn't going to be a
second half, Mr. Wyckham.

Now move!

Move!

Quickly, man! Let's go!

That is not our
driver. So I noticed.

What's the meaning of
this? And where is my driver?

Safe, Mr. Wyckham.

- Michael, your hand.
- Not now, Jessica.

Michael? Jessica?

Jack, find a cab queue where
we can drop these two off.

Not a good idea,
I'm afraid. What?

Head for the embassy.
Put it to the floor.

Sorry, but I'm afraid you
two are along for the ride.

First Secretary Henry
Claymore. May I help you?

This is Dennis McKelvie, Code Name,
Saint Patrick, Secret Intelligence Service.

We are traveling in a limousine,

five minutes away, being pursued by armed
agents of the East German Volkspolizei.

Open the west gate
and keep it open.

We won't have time to
stop. Uh, one moment, sir.

Firstly, I do not take
orders from the S.I.S.

- Secondly, no one is going to be admitted
without proper authorization.
- You bloody fool!

I'm a British subject being chased by
a carload full of armed German agents.

We only have a skeleton
staff on duty here.

After that assassination
attempt in Australia last week,

most of our security is elsewhere this
evening protecting the prime minister.

I'm not suggesting
a pitched battle,

I'm demanding sanctuary.

And you will do me the courtesy
of opening the bloody gate now, sir,

because if it is not open by the time
we arrive, my driver will smash it in.

Is that clear, Mr. Claymore?

Yes, very well. I'll see to it.

You best have a
doctor standing by.

Uh, seems a small hole in my arm
is, uh, making a mess of these seats.

Yes, that is correct,
Sergeant Major.

Henry, what is it?

Well, first I pull embassy duty while
everyone else is hobnobbing with the P.M.

Now it's the damned S.I.S. expecting
me to pull their chestnuts out of the fire.

- Henry, whatever it is,
it will take care of itself.
- And what are you doing out of bed?

- You're exhausted after
your trip, Margo.
- I feel very rested, really.

- I'm afraid this hasn't been much
of a marriage so far, darling.
- Never mind that.

You have some people
arriving. What can I do?

It's back to bed for you, my
girl. I'll handle it. Nonsense.

It's about time I started
learning my duties.

Get those gates open!

- Take Jessica inside, Wyckham.
- I'm Dr. Lynch. I was told
we have a wounded man here.

In a moment, Doctor.

Hurry.

Let's get inside. What the
devil's going on here, McKelvie?

Let's discuss it inside.

No, you will not inform the
ambassador that the Muellers are here,

not until I'm satisfied that it's
safe to do so. May I remind you-

Meanwhile, you can seal
off this wing of the embassy.

The fewer people who know what's going on
here, the safer it will be for our guests.

You will notify me,
Mr. McKelvie, when I may

once again resume my
duties as first secretary?

I will, sir. And thank
you for your indulgence.

Well, Mr. McKelvie,
you're a lucky man.

The bullet passed clear through.

You see, Jessica, I'm
almost indestructible.

Michael, now that you have scared
the life out of me. What is going on?

I'm sorry about the gun,
but if things fell apart,

you and Wyckham had to be able to
say that you were forced to cooperate.

In what? A defection?

Doctor, I hope that ugly-looking
thing is not meant for me.

It is. Unless, of course, you
prefer a nasty case of tetanus.

Well, if you must feel delight
in my discomfort, woman,

- do me the courtesy
of keepin' it to yourself.
- Michael, I'm waiting.

Jessica, don't ask me
questions. I'm not free to answer.

I see. It's perfectly all right to
drag me all over town at gunpoint.

Risk my neck, dodging traffic,
being chased by German spies.

And I'm tellin' you. The less
you know about this, the better.

Now leave it be.

Ow!

The Volpes followed us, but
I don't think they realized...

we had the Muellers with us.

Look, sir, I need information
on another matter altogether.

An operation
code-named White Rose.

Yes, White Rose.

Yes. Yes it is. It's
extremely urgent.

Hello.

I'm Margo Claymore.
Wife of the first secretary.

Oh, Jessica Fletcher.
I'm delighted to meet you.

I wish the circumstances
were less unnerving.

Henry says I'd better get
used to this sort of thing.

My goodness, that's
lovely. And good luck too.

What? Oh, this necklace? Oh, a
friend gave it to me. Thank you.

Hmm, it's a lovely one. Made by
one of the Cameroon tribes in Africa.

I'm from that region. Oh.

Margo.

I'm not overdressed, am I? Don't
be silly, darling. You look marvelous.

Miss Greta Mueller,
her brother Franz.

Mr. Andrew Wyckham,
my wife, Margo.

Mr. Claymore, I demand to
know what is going on here,

and since my brother refuses
to be confidential with me.

Miss Mueller, I'm terribly sorry, but I
really don't know what-You don't know?

Two men burst into my
dressing room during intermission,

shoot one of my guards,
force I and my brother...

at gunpoint into the
trunk of a limousine.

Greta, I have told you that
this was necessary. Why?

So you could defect?

You, Franz, my loyal
and patriotic brother.

No, no, no. You don't know
what you're talking about.

You're going to
have to trust me.

No, I do not trust
you. How can I?

I-I will try to talk to her.

Excuse me.

Well, I-I really would like to make
myself useful. Is anyone hungry?

Yes, that is if it's no trouble.

I'll summon up the servants and
see if we can whip up something.

No servants, I'm afraid, darling. I've had
to section off this part of the embassy.

Then I'll just find my way
about the kitchen on my own.

Sorry if it turns into potluck.

But I-I've been here since only this
morning and I don't know my way about.

- Can I help?
- Oh, no, I'll be fine. Thanks.

Claymore.

Guns? Spies?

Jessica, what the devil's going
on around here? I wish I knew.

Mr. Claymore,
whatever this is about,

neither Mrs. Fletcher
nor myself are involved.

May I presume we are free to go
immediately? You may not, Mr. Wyckham.

The situation's too dangerous.

The East Germans are trying to locate
the Muellers. We can't let anyone leave.

Not until the overseas
situation has been resolved.

- What overseas situation?
- I'm not free to tell you that.

But you do feel free to drag-

innocent civilians into this sordid
business-Now look here, McKelvie.

I happen to be a close personal
friend with the labor minister's cousin,

same hunt club, that sort of thing. I don't
care if you're sleeping with his sister.

You can't leave till it's safe.

Oh.

You'll excuse me. I suddenly
feel a need to, uh, freshen up.

An overseas message has just
been received in the code room.

For my eyes only, Mr. McKelvie.

If it does concern
you, I will let you know.

- Oh, Jessica, spare me that look.
- No, Michael, I will not.

I deeply resent all this.

And it's-it's not just
the danger you've put

us all in, but-Michael,
you don't trust me.

All right.

This is not, as you
suspected, merely a defection.

Franz Mueller has been working
for the S.I.S. for the past three years.

Now three years ago, the
Volpes murdered his wife.

She was an independent
thinker, like yourself.

They probably thought
that she was a spy,

so they arranged an
automobile accident.

Mueller pretended to believe
that that was all that it was.

But for the past two years, he
has been romantically involved...

with various women highly placed
in the East German government.

I see. And from them, he's secured
valuable information for the British.

Earlier today, one
of those women,

an intelligence agent named
Ilsa Steiner, disappeared.

Several hours ago, she was seen walking
into police headquarters in East Berlin.

That's why Jack Kendall and I
liberated Franz and his sister...

just before the interval at the
concert hall. Liberated? At gunpoint?

With shots fired?

Lucky for us that the "1812 Overture"
was playing. Nobody heard them.

Look, I am sorry,

but until we're certain
that Ilsa Steiner...

hasn't betrayed Franz
to the Volkspolizei,

we have to stay put, all of us.

Bad news, I'm
afraid, Mr. McKelvie.

London just intercepted a
coded communiqué from Berlin.

Colonel Brunner has
been ordered to bring Franz

Mueller back to Germany
to face charges of espionage.

Well, that's it then.

Mr. Claymore, I suggest that you
contact both the ambassador and the P.M...

to arrange political asylum.

I think I should tell
Greta. She should know.

If you see Jack Kendall, our driver,
tell him to meet me in the code room.

Yes.

Greta.

Mrs. Fletcher. You'll catch your
death of cold. It's very chilly out here.

I hadn't noticed. I
couldn't talk to Franz.

I didn't know what to say.

Oh, Mrs. Fletcher,
I don't understand.

He was always so patriotic.

Greta, he's going
to need your help,

and your support
now more than ever.

What's happened? A
woman that he's been seeing,

she has betrayed
him to the police.

I know it's-it's a lot for
you to deal with all at once,

but at least try to
listen to his side,

and even if you think he's
wrong, he is your brother.

Yes, of course. You are right.

Good Lord.

What is that he holds?

It's a white rose.

He was stabbed in the chest.

Death came almost
instantaneously.

Yes, but stabbed with what,
Doctor? How instantaneous?

The weapon seems to have been a sharp
pointed object, something like an ice pick.

How instantaneous?

I'd say he died in a
matter of seconds.

He must have grasped at that flower by
accident when falling. Henry? What is it?

I just went upstairs
to get my wrap.

A man's been hurt,
dear. Please go in.

Uh, everyone. Inside.

- There's nothing we can do out here.
- We can bloody well bring the body inside.

Lend me a hand, Doctor. No,
no, not with your arm, you don't.

Sergeant Major.

Please, if you all will just stay
in here until we sort things out.

What is it? What has happened?

Mr. Kendall, he's
dead. Murdered.

Murdered? Here in the embassy?

By who? By one
of us it is obvious.

Do you see any person
else here, Mr. Wyckham?

You are quite sure that
this section of the embassy...

was completely sealed off,
Sergeant Major, even from the staff?

Yes, I see. Then
search the grounds.

And when you've
finished, report back to me.

I want armed sentries
posted at every doorway.

And, Sergeant Major, you
are to take orders from me.

No one else. Is
that quite clear?

I'll join the others.

If the weapon is out there.
I can't find it. Bloody hell!

Oh, I'm so sorry, Michael. I-I
didn't realize you were so close.

Close?

Yes, that we were.

It was me that got
Jack involved in all this.

Twenty years ago, he
was studying finance.

From a long line of
stuffy bankers, he was.

He couldn't have
been more than a boy.

How old do you think
I was when I started?

Ah, he was perfect, perfect
with his banker's face.

In our trade, Jessica,

you don't wear a
badge that says "spy."

Anonymity is what
saves your skin,

being able to
pass yourself off...

as a tradesman or-

- Whatever.
- Michael.

- What is "White Rose"?
- What?

He was holding a white rose.

But a few minutes ago, I heard
him on the telephone, very upset.

He was asking
someone for information...

about an operation
called White Rose.

Are you sure about that?

Yes, and I-I don't think
it was just coincidence.

I think that he was trying
to tell us something...

by grasping for that rose,
knowing that he was going to die.

He was trying to identify
the killer. White Rose.

That's the name of one
of your operations, isn't it?

It was.

I wasn't involved with it
personally, but I remember it.

Nine years ago,
Johannesburg, South Africa.

A small group of
agents was assigned...

to support an anti-apartheid
activist called Benjamin Kumbasa.

- Jack was one of them.
- Kumbasa. I remember. He was killed.

Stabbed to death
in a public square.

His assassin escaped into the crowd
before anyone knew what had happened.

And he was never apprehended.

Excuse me, sir.

The first minister has
requested that everyone

remain together in
the reception room.

That request does
not extend to me,

Sergeant Major. I
have my orders, sir.

When do you suppose
the police will arrive?

I very much doubt that the police
have been summoned, Mr. Wyckham.

What? This is embassy
property. It's British soil.

They have no jurisdiction here.

Claymore's sticky
about that sort of thing.

I thought you might want
some tea. Nein, danke schön.

Greta, I'm sorry. If there had
been any way I could have told you-

Were you afraid I
would betray you? No.

No, I just didn't want to endanger
you. Isn't that what you’ve done?

Oh, maybe it's not
the physical danger,

but what will it
be like for us now,

not only for me but
Mama and Papa?

Was it all so
important to you...

that you could not
once consider us?

Greta, listen to me. They will give
us both political asylum, I am sure-

No. And soon we will be able
to arrange for Mama and Papa.

Nein. Don't you understand?
I don't want asylum.

I am not political!
I am a musician!

And I will not be
cooped up in that

oversized parlor, Claymore.
There's a killer loose.

Yes, and we are searching
the grounds. For what?

Your killer's one of
us, you bloody fool.

Mr. McKelvie, I am operating under
the direct orders of the ambassador...

who will be here shortly
as soon as he is certain

the prime minister is
secure for the evening.

Meanwhile, as a British
subject, you will conduct yourself-

Excuse me, Mr. Claymore,
but I am not a British subject,

and you are keeping
me here against my will.

Because, madam, you are a
suspect in a murder investigation.

Forgive me, but, uh, if there
is a murder investigation

going on here, I, uh,
I'm not aware of it.

Perhaps if you'd share with me what
you know or think you know, Mrs. Fletcher.

Well, that presents a problem,
since you, like me, are also a suspect.

Point taken. Then
what do you suggest?

That you give us free movement
within the embassy to investigate,

beginning with access to
the code room computer.

Uh, very well.

Sergeant Major. Give them
whatever they may need.

Yes, sir. Carry on.

That, Mrs. Fletcher,
is acceptable?

Yes. Thank you.

Oh, by the way, Mr. Claymore, I understand
that your wife comes from Africa.

Uh, from Rhodesia, actually.

Her father is a very
successful tobacco planter.

Ah. Is that where you met her?

No, I met her in London,
actually, a couple of months ago.

Surely you don't think
my wife's involved in this?

Well, that remains
to be seen, doesn't it?

Well done, Mrs. Fletcher. And where
did you get all that Africa business from?

Oh, we civilians have our ways.

Now, Michael, while you
check out White Rose,

I want to take another
look in Dr. Lynch's office.

Lynch? What for?

Well, as I remember, Benjamin
Kumbasa was assassinated in 1976.

Mid-April. Uh-huh.

Well, the certificate on
the doctor's wall says...

that he graduated from the
Transvaal Medical School in June of '76.

Now that may just be a
coincidence. Or maybe not.

Yeah, you go ahead. I'll check
out White Rose in the computer file.

Excuse me, the first minister would
like to see you both in his office.

- Has there been any news?
- I wouldn't know, ma'am.

- Sergeant Major.
- Sir?

- Where are you keeping
Mrs. Fletcher?
- She's with Mr. McKelvie, sir.

Doing what? She's
quite all right, sir.

- Now look here. I'm fed up with all this.
- Sorry, sir. Just following orders.

Excuse me.

She was asking
about Rhodesia. Why?

Well, I'm not sure. Something
to do with Kendall's death, I think.

Henry, I didn't kill that man.
Of course you didn't, Margo.

This damn poking
around. I just don't like it.

Look, just chin up. Everything
will be all right, darling.

Sit down, please.

Oh, you scared
the life out of me.

Ignoring the fact that you don't
have a warrant-Found anything?

Yes, Jack Kendall wasn't
killed by just a puncture wound.

Take a look at the moons on
his fingernails, also his eyes.

- Poison.
- And fast acting.

A poisoned weapon.

- That sounds premeditated.
- Or professional.

Which may mean that your friend was
killed because he recognized the assassin.

Jessica. Michael, take a look at
that photograph up on the wall there.

Whatever Dr. Lynch
may have been up to,

he seemed to have been hobnobbing
with those South African revolutionaries.

He also doesn't keep
it much of a secret.

- Well, it does fit his S.I.S. file.
- Then you found something?

Nothing damning, Jessica.

Lynch was active with the
anti-apartheidists in Transvaal.

He actually got himself
thrown into jail several times.

But if he was a supporter of Benjamin
Kumbasa, why would he have killed him?

Margo Claymore? Oh, yes.
The first secretary's wife.

Interesting. There
is no file on her.

But the ambassador
has assured me that every

protection of Her
Majesty's government...

will be extended to
you and your sister.

- Provided, of course-
- Provided what?

Well, there has
been a killing here, sir,

and it seems clear that
one of us is responsible.

Uh, excuse me.

Yes?

One moment. It's
Colonel Brunner.

- Hear what he has to say.
- Yes, we'd all better listen.

Connect him.

Uh, First Secretary Henry
Claymore. May I help you?

Mr. Claymore, this is
Colonel Gerhardt Brunner.

I'm trying to locate Fräulein
Greta Mueller and her brother.

I have reason to believe they
are being held at your embassy.

Well, not to my
knowledge, Colonel.

What a pity. I have a most
urgent message for them.

Yes? In the unlikely event
that you should contact them,

will you please inform them that their
parents have been taken into custody. Nein!

Nein! No!

You cannot do that!

Fräulein Mueller?
They have done nothing.

Greta! Fräulein
Mueller, I am very sorry.

It was necessary
precaution to ensure...

that both you and your brother
return immediately to Berlin.

If not, I'm very much afraid I
cannot guarantee the consequences.

I don't understand. What
kind of people are these?

Miss Mueller, are you sure I can't
give you some sort of sedative?

No, no, I'll be all right.

Gang of thugs, simple as that.

Thought that sort of thing had gone
out with Hitler. I'm sorry, Miss Mueller.

Our people tried to reach your
parents, but they were too late.

Our sources have just
confirmed that they're being

held in Volkspolizei
headquarters in East Berlin.

Well, then, that is it.
We'll have to go back.

Franz, they'll put you in
prison. They may even kill you.

And if I don't? This is my
doing, Greta, my responsibility.

Mrs. Fletcher. I know,
child. It's a terrible choice.

I'll phone Brunner and
have him pick us up.

I wouldn't do that just yet.

There's some
unfinished business here.

A murder, if you'll recall. My sister
and I had nothing to do with that.

Well, someone is
bloody well responsible,

and no one's leaving
here until I find out who.

Michael. Excuse me.

Michael. What is it?

Things are beginning
to take shape.

But certain pieces still
don't make any sense.

I have to talk to
Margo Claymore.

Do me a favor and double check
something for me in the computer file.

But I told you. There is no file on
Margo. Oh, not Margo. Dr. Lynch.

Everything is
under control, sir.

We-We'll expect to see
you within the hour. Bye.

A problem, Henry? Well,
in the interest of security,

they've decided to put the
P.M. on a plane back to London.

They should be
taking off momentarily.

Surely not because of what
happened here. No, no, no.

They decided to take no chances.

Oh, Henry, what
are we going to do?

Maybe we should tell the truth.

I think that might be a very
good idea, Mrs. Claymore.

My wife is not involved
in Mr. Kendall's death.

Well, perhaps not,

but obviously neither one of
you have been telling the truth.

About what? About Rhodesia.
About your wife's background.

- That is not at issue here.
- I'm afraid it is when a murder
has been committed.

Yes, you're right. It's
all my fault. The lies.

Margo. Henry, a man's dead.

We've got to start
telling the truth.

I am from Rhodesia, Mrs.
Fletcher, many years ago.

But my father was not a
wealthy plantation owner,

at least, we're not
sure about that.

My mother worked as a servant.
She was very fair-skinned,

but she had native
African blood in her as I do.

One night, she was raped
by one of the Europeans.

The foreman, the master's
son, the master himself,

she never said.

When I was three, my mother
and I were sent off to London...

where she established
a flower shop.

I've never wanted
for anything...

except for a past
which I-I invented.

I really made it quite
believable, didn't I, darling?

Poor Henry.

When he started squiring
me about London last year,

he was so proud of me
and my excellent pedigree.

Margo told me the
truth before the marriage.

I was surprised, naturally,

but, frankly, I didn't care.

I just didn't care.

But there was your career. Yes.

We, uh, decided to
keep up the pretense.

After all, the truth was no one's
business but our own. Until tonight.

Mrs. Fletcher, what has Rhodesia
to do with Mr. Kendall's death?

Ten years ago, a black rights
leader was killed in Johannesburg.

It's possible that
that assassin...

is the same person who
committed the murder tonight.

But I was nowhere near
Johannesburg 10 years ago.

I was working seven days
a week in my mother's shop.

I see.

I'm sorry, Mrs. Fletcher. Ten years
ago, I was posted in Hong Kong.

And you can forget about
Dr. Lynch as well, Jessica.

As you suggested, I did a little digging
into the good doctor's background,

and he has himself
a marvelous alibi.

Following a peace march, he was in a
Pretoria jail the day Kumbasa was stabbed.

I'm afraid your theory about Jack
recognizing the assassin is a bust.

Well, you'll have to admit
it was a bit far-fetched.

I mean, what would a professional
assassin be doing here at the embassy?

Unless here is not where
he was supposed to be.

Arrogant fellow, that Claymore.

I'm going to have a word with
the ambassador about him.

Well, it's after 2:00.
Should've returned by now.

He's on his way, Andrew.

They just put the prime minister
on a plane back to England.

Did they? Well, I thought the P.M.
wasn't supposed to leave until Tuesday.

Just a safety precaution,
Mr. Wyckham. Ah.

Andrew, I got worried
about Geoffrey Phillips,

so I called his home office in London to
find out where he'd gone this weekend.

They knew nothing about any
emergency assignment to the West Coast,

so we called the
Washington police.

Twenty minutes ago, they
broke into his apartment.

They found Geoffrey in
bed, strangled to death.

Really, Jessica?

Just move, boyo.

I'd welcome a
chance to use this.

I wonder who hired him.

Ah, one bunch of lunatics
is the same as any other.

Well. He used me
and my invitation...

to that reception to get
to the prime minister.

Well, with all that security,
you were his only way in.

If I hadn't needed you to help me
with the Muellers, it would've worked.

Yeah, but how did
he expect to escape?

Maybe he didn't.

Now then, tell me,
Jessica, how did you know?

I didn't, not at first,

not until the police
discovered Geoffrey's body.

But you see, Mr. Wyckham
talked a great deal about his travels,

about how he'd gone
everywhere including Africa.

And I remembered something
that you once told me...

about how agents are
seemingly so faceless,

so ordinary.

Now that is a fanciful leap.

Maybe so, but that wasn't all.

A look passed between Wyckham
and your friend Mr. Kendall...

just as we were getting into
the car at the concert hall.

At the time, I thought
it was merely surprise

that our driver had
been suddenly replaced,

but, of course, it was
much more than that.

Wyckham knew that
he'd been recognized,

knew that he was
about to be exposed.

The murder wasn't smart,
but he had no choice.

Speaking of no choice.

Fräulein Mueller, I personally
regret the actions taken...

by headquarters in Berlin
in regard to your parents.

Herr Oberst, spare
me your insincereness.

As you wish.

The plane is
waiting at the airport.

Yes. Well, there has been a
change in the plans, Herr Oberst.

I have made a great
deal of thought on this,

and my brother will not
be coming with us. Greta?

Franz will remain safely
here in the United States,

a misguided defector,
if you like to call it,

while I, a loyal citizen,

will return to Berlin to be
reunion with my parents.

My orders are-

I don't care about
your orders, Colonel.

I am the one who
makes it matter.

I am the one whose defection
will not only chagrin Berlin,

but you personally
for having permit it.

Your brother... is a traitor.

My brother is a defector, and
that is all anyone has to know.

Colonel, don't ask me to
choose between the safeness

of my brother or the
safeness of my parents.

You may have a
surprise by what I decide.

Now take what you are
offered before I alter my mind.

You give me little choice.

Go then. Wait for me by the car.

- Greta, I can't
let you... Shhh.

It'll be all right.
They won't harm me.

I am too much a celebrity.

We will see each
other again, Franz.

Soon.

Thank you.

For what, my child? I
haven't done anything.

I think you know
that is not true.

Michael, you are going
to help her, aren't you?

A sweet young thing
like that, Jessica?

We're already working on it.