All language subtitles for The Ipcress File 1x03 - Episode 3 (English)

We've been sharing technical secrets
with a team of British scientists,

one of whom might be in Soviet hands.

And the Professor,
was he a communist too?

We never discussed politics.

Do you have any idea
where the scientist is? No.

We're hoping Stock
might offer up a lead.

We'd like to talk to you
about your boyfriend.

Corporal Palmer. I've heard of you,
you know, from Berlin.

Who do you think's behind all this, sir?

I like to keep an open mind
on these things,

but it's possible Dawson
is closer to home than we think.

Down!

Here he is, Ian Randall,

a mercenary, a chancer, a gambler.

Possibly a killer.

But they were all looking for you.

So I'm picking up the cargo
and I'm getting out.

It's just you've been...
hard to get hold of.

Working late.

I want to know!

Some people are just wrong
for one another.

As a psychiatrist, the Professor visits,

he can change the way you feel,
the way you behave.

They say that if you
give him long enough,

if you're susceptible...
he can change who you are.

Here we are, Professor, your favourite,

just like every other day.

Don't say much, do you?

Hope you'll be a bit chattier
when you get there.

Whenever that is.

Paid a lot of money for you.
Half of it, anyway.

They must reckon you're worth it.

I just hope no-one changes
their mind, otherwise it'll be...

Boom!

Six months ago,
Dawson began treatment for stress...

Perhaps because he was planning
to defect to the Soviet Union!

...with a psychiatrist who advocated
experimental techniques,

the effects of which are unknown.

Dawson was abducted by
a British mercenary,

the psychiatrist is dead,
and the mercenary,

presumably with his valuable
captive, has gone to ground.

In Beirut?

Randall and another man flew to France

the night of the entry
to Radley's clinic.

A man resembling him -
again with companion -

was sighted boarding a freighter
in Marseille, bound for Beirut.

And Beirut, where he was stationed
for four years,

is where he has relationships, contacts,

and where he is most likely to be.

Unless he's somewhere else.

There is that possibility.

It's not going outstandingly, is it?

No, sir.

When Mr Dalby told me
I was going back to that clinic

to read every last page
of Radley's research,

I thought he was joking.
It's amazing what you can learn.

A PhD wasn't the only thing
he brought back from Stanford.

"There is a relationship
between freedom of behaviour

"and psychic liberation.

"The human subconscious can be
stripped of its protective shell

"and rendered amenable
to therapeutic remodelling."

Glad that's cleared things up

Before we meet the man from the embassy,

I thought I might visit
the Roman Baths later.

Beirut has one of the largest
outside Rome, apparently.

Jean, is there something wrong?

My fiance has broken off our engagement.

I'm sorry.

Did he give a reason?

Cos I was lying to him.

I see.

Do you know, Dalby's wife thinks
he works for the Board of Trade.

Has for 20 years, never questioned it.

Not that she could do anything,
even if she did.

See, it's so much easier for men to lie.

Everything is easier for men.

Nice view.

You're late. Yeah, sorry about that.

You're here with Jean Courtney.

Am I?

I thought she might be with you.

As you can see, I'm on my own.

I'm an old friend of James's,
the man she pledged to marry.

You people all know each other,
don't you?

Was he at the embassy, too?
James and I were at school together.

Of course.
He was pretty cut up about it all.

Finds out she's been working
for the funnies,

spinning some yarn about the BBC.

I didn't come up here
to talk about any of this,

but employees in certain fields do
have obligations of confidentiality.

Still, it's not very pleasant,
is it, lying?

Let's change the subject.

Mr Randall's contacts.

Right, here's the list.

Contacts registered when he was here
under diplomatic cover.

Yousef Fattal, Deputy Commissioner
of the Beirut Police.

Connected. So for God's sake,
try not to upset him.

We think this woman
might have been his girlfriend.

And this one's Adem,
drug trafficker, moneylender,

runs a nightclub, Hamra.

Just be careful, he's unpredictable.

'Don't go anywhere with anyone.

'Don't tell anyone except Adem
who it is you're looking for.

'There's an exit at the back
of the building,

'should you need it.' 'I know.'

And I brought you this.

I'm all right, thanks.
It could save your life.

'I'll take my chances.'

Lager, please.

'Shakin' All Over'

I'm looking for Adem.

? Just the way
That you say good night to me

? Brings that feeling on Inside of me

? Quivers down my back bone. ?

Looking for Adem? Yes.

This way.

Lift up your arms.

US dollars. I'm not American.

What do you want with Adem?

I'm hoping he can help me find someone.

Wait.

You come with us. Where?

We take you in the car.

No, thanks. But if I could
just have my wallet back.

You will come with us.

This way.

Don't move! Drop the gun.

Harry, pick up the gun.

Back inside, shut the door.

Forgot to get my wallet back.

Identification, please.

Your very own command centre.

In the event of everything
going to hell,

this is where you'll find me.

From here, I'm in communication
with the Pentagon,

the President -
or whoever has survived -

with each and every
nuclear armed missile silo

and B52 squadron in Europe.

You can hardly wait.

Preparation is deterrence.

Indeed.

And your man Dawson
was very important to us

in pursuit of that goal.

But you lost him.

And then, as I understand it,

you lost the man closely connected
to the disappearance.

For the time being.

Incompetence or infiltration?

Incompetence, I can assure you.

Four weeks from the day, we are due
to hold our first neutron bomb test

since the collapse
of the moratorium. So I hear.

The moratorium on testing was a mistake.

Our political masters
had allowed themselves

to be duped into a state
of sentimental weakness.

You're not the sort
to tolerate weakness.

No. Because I have known it in myself.

9th March 1945,
I piloted a B-29 over Tokyo.

One of about 300 bombers,

dropping incendiary bombs
onto a city made of wood.

We killed about 100,000 people
that day, and I did my share.

In the weeks that followed,
I was haunted

by visions of burning children.

I took to drink,
I became estranged from my family.

One day, I set out to destroy myself.

I drove till I ran out gas.

Middle of nowhere.

I was gonna bring it all to an end.

But in that place,

faced with the grandeur
of His creation...

You were sent a message.

I was.

All that I had done was but
preparation for what is to come.

My ordeal was a challenge
from which I must emerge stronger,

more determined, more pitiless,

in the defence of our Christian values.

I was at Nagasaki.

What I saw were shadows on the street

where human beings had been vaporised.

I know him. I have not seen him
for two, maybe three years.

If he was back, do you know
where we might find him?

He is not back.

I have made inquiries
of all the people who might see him

and all the places he might stay.
He is not here.

Of course, Beirut at this time
of the year is a wonderful place

and I hope you will stay longer
to enjoy the sights

and our hospitality.

I'm very much enjoying them both,

but I wonder if you're able
to tell us where he might be found,

so that we could look for ourselves.

Places where he could either gamble
or borrow money to gamble.

Did he borrow from you? Not me!

No, no, no, I was never
foolish enough to lend to him.

In that case, I wonder how you knew him.

Socially. Did he pay you?

You mean did he bribe me?

This woman,
she is really quite spirited.

What did he pay you for?

I don't know what you're talking about,

so maybe you should stop talking.

2,500 in sterling?

I can have you thrown out of this city.

We have diplomatic passports.

You may have diplomatic passports,

but you are not diplomats.

All high on the happy end in Cuba,

our President wants it
to be a stepping stone

into a new era of dialogue
and cooperation

with our peace-loving brothers on
the other side of the Iron Curtain.

Well, maybe one day,
we'll all be good communists.

Forgive me if I don't share
your droll amusement

in that prospect, Mr Maddox.

You know me by now, General.

I'm a godless heathen
for whom Hell holds no fear.

Then sure enough,
you'll be acquainted with it.

That's for the future.
Meantime, what can I do for you?

Our friend, survivor of Nagasaki.

Yes? I find him... interesting.

How interesting?
Enough to want to know more.

Well...

From an agency point of view,

that seems to be a legitimate act
of intelligence gathering...

...even though we're on the same side.

Same side? It's a long time
since I ever thought of it that way.

Looks delicious, thank you.

I'm afraid I have to go
to Brussels tomorrow.

Short notice. Yes, I'm sorry.

It's these talks about joining the EEC.

That is dragging on.
The French are awkward.

Shall we try to be
professional this time?

I don't need a lesson from you.

No, you don't. Look, I know you're...

What? Well, upset.

Am I?

OK, I won't say any more.

We've all had our hearts broken.

Heartbroken?

Is that what you think?

God, that is so...

You have no idea.

If you want to know, I'm actually happy.

I love my work, I'm good at it,
and I find it fulfilling.

But I'm angry
because I haven't been able

to experience this happiness before,
because I felt I had to fit in

with everyone else's idea
of the pretty little woman

who's so grateful to be getting married

so she can spend the rest
of her life looking after a man.

Good morning, Miss Boustani.
Alice Wintersgill. Peter Whitmore.

I hope you received our letter.
I wonder if we could come in?

It's very kind of you to see us.
It's taken us a long time.

You see, we had no had no idea
where Mr Randall might be,

or even if he was still alive.

But a letter he'd sent
to his solicitor some years ago

had this address.

And with the death of his great uncle,

and the entire estate being left
to Mr Randall,

it has become a matter
of some importance.

As a matter of confidentiality,

we're unable to disclose
the exact value of the estate

but I can say it is significant.

All we ask is that if you have
any idea where Mr Randall might be

or know someone else that might,
that you act in his best interest

and you ask him to get in touch with us.

I...

I would like to help you.

It's true, we had a relationship,
but this was over a long time ago.

I see. But still...

Of course!

If he were to appear, I would tell him.

But honestly,
I don't expect to see him again.

OK, well, our phone number
is on there if you do happen to.

Thank you for the tea
and thank you for your time.

Hello! Who's this?

Do you like the Beano?
Who's your favourite?

Oh, Dennis the Menace! Mine, too.

April 20th, 1963.
And as far as I can tell,

they don't sell the Beano in Beirut.

Present from a doting father, then?

Maybe she'll show us where he is.

I think we're being followed, Chico.
I think we are, sir.

Would you like me to lose them, sir? No.

Just tell Palmer to have someone
ready for when I arrive in Beirut.

Damn.

Are you playing for money?
Unfortunately not

because the professor here
is very, very good at this.

This is for you.

Are you gonna be rich?

Did you follow my instructions? Yes.

Exactly as I told you? Yes.

Did you see anyone?
There was no-one following me.

Of course there was
someone following you. In your mind!

I know these people.

When you come, every time,
you follow my instructions.

So when are you going to be rich?

Soon.

I promise, darling.

Soon we will be rich
beyond our wildest dreams.

OK. Now go.

Simple move out if you want it.
Do they think I'm stupid?

Do they?

Do they?!

'Our man in Rome is
in the transit lounge.

'He watches Dalby board
a connecting flight to Beirut.

'About five seconds later,
he spots another man he recognises -

'Oleg Retzov.

'Colonel Stok's right-hand man
in the KGB.

'I understand Colonel Stok
is in Beirut right now.'

To think I almost trusted this man.

Haven't been to Beirut myself
for a few years.

Have him tailed.

Good evening!

I would like to order some room service.

Don't move or I'll kill you.

Oh. Mr Adem.

My wallet, I presume?

Monsieur Palmer?

Room service.

Are you hungry?

I don't like to threaten. Of course not.

It's better to eat and drink,
and to talk.

I completely agree.

So, I've heard you're looking
for my old friend, Mr Randall.

A true English gentleman
who owes me $8,000.

Well, perhaps we can help each other.

Now he's here again in Beirut?
We think so.

You are MI6? No.

Come on!
We can be honest to one another.

I am. Honestly.

OK.

You like to keep your secret.
That's your business.

I don't care.

I used to work for the CIA.

For them,
I would move things around here.

People, too, if they need.

All top-secret.

To Syria, to Persia, Israel, Cyprus.

In return, they let me conduct
my business without interfering.

They even gave me a helicopter.

But then, everything changes.

They don't like me now.

They try to stop my business.

They sent my helicopter to Vietnam.

It's terrible for me.

I can imagine.

That pig, Yousef,
trying to steal my business.

So, here is my proposal.

I will help you find Randall.
In return...

...the British Government
will give me a helicopter.

Dalby will never pay for a helicopter.

He may not even pay
for your room service.

I think he could be helpful.

Have you got your wallet back yet?
Not yet.

Hm.

An inauspicious start to a
great friendship, wouldn't you say?

OK, diplomat,

you should have left
when you had the chance.

They're going to kill us.

When they get us out.
There is nothing we can do.

I must think of something.

Can you think of anything?

No.

It's OK.

I saved you from that pig.

Now you will have to buy me
a helicopter.

So... This fellow Adem...

I'm told he wants a helicopter,
is that correct?

Yes. A Bell H-13, sir. Very nice.

Look, he's even given us this brochure.

$65,000.

I think he may settle for cash.

And this is Farak.
Your long lost brother.

Right. Let's go.

We missed your presence
in Charlotte Street.

Kind of you to say so, sir.

Alice tells me you submitted
a claim for overseas allowance.

In an idle moment, I was looking
through my terms of employment.

Hm.

Speaking of which,
the Minister asked about you again.

No-one ever wants to hear that.

He considers this operation
to be a failure.

Well, he may have a point there.

And suggested with some urgency that
I look around for someone to blame.

In the junior ranks, perhaps? Exactly.

It's the British tradition, sir.

I would hardly expect
to be treated any differently.

If it turns out
you broke some sort of regulation,

they can just chuck another year or two

onto your time at Colchester.

I can see the convenience.

I rate you highly, Palmer,
I hope you won't take it personally.

Oh, no, sir. It will be a privilege.

$5,000, not a cent more.

I have friends at the airport, the dock,

at all the borders on all the roads.

I have friends in the customs,
the police,

the army, the government.

If anyone in Beirut plans to move him,

I will hear about it.

And thanks to me, so will you.
How wonderfully simple.

Welcome to Beirut, Mr Maddox.

You lost him.

We got fooled by an old trick, sir.
It won't happen again.

Best way to learn.

Otherwise... we got them
pretty much nailed down.

As you can see.

Who's this?

Deputy Head of Mission, British Embassy.

Dalby asked me to give you this.

It was delivered to the BBC, apparently.

From my mother.

Very kind of her

Would you like me to take them away?

Did you have that sort of thing?

No, we didn't.

Me and Debs, ours wasn't
much of an event, really.

Not at the age we were.

Couple of witnesses... one
of whom she now intends to marry.

Perhaps you could help me
to deliver them.

This one?

This one...

...Marcus Leadburn, Conservative
Member of Kensington and Chelsea.

Spends every waking minute terrified

that a band of socialists
are going to come

and abolish the death penalty.

It's the only pleasure
he gets in life, you see.

You're enjoying this.

Much more than
I would have enjoyed the wedding.

When did you work that out?

In a moment of honesty.

When it happened to you,
how did you know?

We looked at each other one morning...

...and we both just knew.

Palmer!

Ah, Palmer.

I need to talk to you
about my helicopter.

Oh, yeah?

Colonel Stok.
Avoiding the crowds as usual.

Thank you for your note.
Empires come and go.

Ours will last.
That's what we used to think.

Yours could not be sustained.

Spread all across the globe,
connected only by ships.

Ours is joined by land and blood.

And we liberated our friends
from the Nazis.

In return, we have
their undying gratitude.

And somewhere to park your tanks.

Mr Dalby. What is it, ten years, eh?

You look not a single day older.
You flatter me.

It's normal practice.

What brings you to Beirut, Colonel?

The coffee. And the baklava -
I have a weakness. And you.

Well, then I am in illustrious company.

Have you found
your missing scientist yet?

Are you offering him back to me?

No, I told your fellow - Palmer -

I told him we don't know where he is.

There was a man in London -
he tried to sell him to me,

wasn't convinced.

I think he was just using me
to inflate the price.

We assumed Professor Dawson
was passing secrets to you.

Oh, I can assure you we have
approached him over the years,

We have appealed to the political
sentiments of his youth.

We have offered him money, women,
men, anything he wants,

but, sadly, without success.
Then where is he?

You think I'd lie to you? Colonel Stok.

But here we are,

guided by the hand of fate -

for as England loses one physicist,

I am delighted to offer you another,

a scientist of the highest renown...

...but one who does not appreciate
our benevolent regime.

And she's more trouble
than we care for now.

We want to let her go.

Yes, Dr Polina Lavotchkin.
Dr Lavotchkin is dead.

No. You told me yourself.

I was mistaken.
I remember it quite clearly.

The day before I left Moscow
for the last time,

you told me she had been arrested -
20th February, 1953 -

on charges of treason
and conspiring against Stalin.

Dr Lavotchkin had confessed,
of course, and been executed.

Her execution was delayed

while she was giving further
confessions to incriminate others.

This was quite routine and would
normally not alter the outcome,

but, three weeks later...

you must remember...

you would have just returned home
to London, reunited with your wife,

settling into your London routine -
what happened?

Stalin died. Yes...

Yes, a day of great sadness.

But the condemned were saved.

As was Dr Lavotchkin.

Now, that didn't mean that
she was entirely free, of course.

She went to Sverdlovsk-45,
a closed city,

where she led
the uranium enrichment programme.

And led it very well, I must say.

But she's not happy, Mr Dalby.

She never has been, not since you left.

We are prepared to let her to go.

What do you want, Colonel?

What your missing professor
would not give us.

You see, there is a dossier.

I know of its existence,
although it is beyond my reach.

This great advance in weaponry:
the neutron bomb.

If you want Dr Lavotchkin,
you will exchange this dossier...

for her.

That's our deal, between you and me.

Hey - it's Mark, right? Mm-hm.

Paul Maddox. How do you do?

Very kind of you
to interrupt your morning.

Oh, no problem. It's always good
to make new contacts.

Exactly! That's what it's all about.

I met someone whom I think you know.

Oh, yes?

Love to hear what you know about her.

Welcome.

OK! This has come from Afghanistan.
40 kilos.

We break it up,
we take it to the dock in Beirut,

then by ship to Rotterdam,
London, New York...

It is me who ties all this together.

So, one of my people on a boat

is told that he is to collect
from the docks a different cargo -

this one is a person,
a person of great importance.

I can tell you exactly where
and exactly when this will happen.

But first...

...I will need to be paid.

Of course.

Jean - what a pleasure.

Haven't seen you
since Margaret and I had dinner

with you and James at The Ivy last year.

Do you remember?
You and James had just got engaged.

Everyone was so happy.

Seems like such a long time ago now.

James ended our engagement.

Doesn't sound like
he had much of a choice.

A man discovers
that he can't trust his bride.

Excuse me -

I know it's none of my business,

but I wonder
if it's none of yours, either.

How very protective.

I did wonder, I must admit.

Perhaps it was a convenient ending
to the betrothal after all.

What are you suggesting?

Well, no-one can deny
the rough charms of the proletariat.

Would you like me to punch you?

I mean, if it would help
to confirm your prejudices?

Don't bother, Harry. He might cry.

The embassy is an ambassadorial office

dealing with inter-governmental
relations at the highest level.

We are not a service bureau

or a bank that hands out money
for a gang of adventurers

insufficiently funded by the War Office

or whichever department of Whitehall
you people take your shilling from.

I think we're finished
with this clandestine nonsense.

I kept the letter, Mark.

Deputy Head of Mission in Beirut
and barely 30 years old.

What's next?

Of course, it helps

when your father-in-law is
Permanent Secretary to the Treasury.

You don't frighten me.
Perhaps I'll send it to him.

He might find it interesting.

There was his poor daughter,

exhausted in the final stages
of a difficult pregnancy.

Meanwhile, her husband finds the
time to send an indiscreet love note

to another woman.

I'm just an innocent bystander
in all this,

but it seems to me, armed with only
the barest outline of the situation,

that you really don't have
any choice any more.

You can give whatever reason you
want, but we need the cash tonight.

And no funny business, right?

Or I'll confirm to you
every prejudice you ever had.

What happened?

I shot a lot of men.

Everyone told me it
was a great thing to have done,

but I didn't feel good about it,

and I don't ever want to do it again.

That idiot at the embassy, you know,

he was just trying to stir things up.

I know.

And he was right. About you and me.

Yes, I know.

We kissed.

We shouldn't.
I wanted to, and you felt the same.

It would be a mistake.

Are you sure about that?

I am uncomfortable
discussing my emotions.

And I thought you were
a modern sort of man.

I was born in Bethnal Green in 1932.

Well, let me know
when you get to the '60s.

This way, professor,
our friends are waiting.

Stop there!

Let him go.

Randall, get down on the ground!

Get down on the ground.

Professor, walk towards me.

We're taking you back to England.

England...? Walk towards me!

Palmer, take him.

Professor, it's all right,
you're perfectly safe.

Just come with us... Come with us.

I warned you!

Go, go, go!

Argh!

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