All language subtitles for The Man From U.N.C.L.E. S01E23 The Brain-Killer Affair

Your queen is in danger.

Two more cognac, please.

Two cognac.

Your last South American
assignment was very, very unfortunate.

How did you know about that?

I find it difficult to understand why
a venture like that should fail so.

What went wrong?

For some unknown
reason, everything.

But Mr. Waverly's merely
playing chess with him.

Inexplicable. I don't know why.

No.

No, I... I couldn't do that.
I'd never get away with it.

But they'd know that I've...

An experienced foreign affairs
troubleshooter like yourself.

One of those
things, Mr. Waverly.

All right, all right.

Wait five minutes.

Then send an ambulance.

Your queen, my friend.

And in four more
moves, checkmate.

Since you're one of the top-ranking
amateur chess players of the world...

I can understand
you're being disturbed.

I'm sorry.

I just don't understand it.

Well, I don't understand
it either, Mr. Farmington.

You're playing
chess like a novice.

The manner in which you botched
that South American assignment.

That too was amateurish.

Oh, Mr. Solo...

I'd like you to meet Mr. Farmington
of your State Department.

- Mr. Solo.
- How are you?

All right. I'll handle this.

Mr. Waverly.

Farmington.

Nikos Korzos.

Niels Bergstrom,
have... Have killed...

Waiter, call an ambulance.

Code 20-A.

Repeat 2-0-A.

Mr. Waverly's down.

What happened? SOLO Poisoned.

Unconscious, but still alive. An ambulance
is on the way from the Hobart Clinic.

Get one of our own men
over there. Dr. Tower.

- Anything else? SOLO: I
want Section 2 men to meet us.

Possibly it's the
handiwork of Thrush.

If they botched the job, they
may make another attempt at it.

We're on our way.

How does it look
for him, my friend?

- Who?
- I don't know, Illya.

He mentioned three
names before, uh...

One of them, Farmington,
is still back at the club.

The other two were Nikos
Korzos and Niels Bergstrom.

- See if Research can locate them for us.
- All right.

I'm Dr. Elmont. Dr. Dabree.

Napoleon Solo.

Until Mr. Waverly's
personal physician arrives...

I would appreciate anything
you could do for him.

As luck would have it, I
was clear across town.

Research finds only one Niels Bergstrom
in New York City. That's his address.

And Nikos Korzos?

They suggested I buy this evening's
paper to find his whereabouts.

Research informed me that Korzos
empire has been disintegrating.

This morning his shipping
line went into receivership.

- Well, they seem positive it was suicide.
- 'Twas the last blow.

They found no link between
Korzos and Bergstrom?

They have nothing yet.

All right, I'll take Bergstrom. You go
back to the club, talk to Farmington.

The waiter and the bartender, they also
had a chance to tamper with the cognac.

I shall see to them.

The, uh, poison is a neurotoxin.

It's going to be touch and
go for quite a few hours.

You left Waverly alone in there?

- Surely you don't suspect Dr. Elmont?
- I want him under constant observation.

- You don't carry a weapon, do you?
- I'm a physician, not a bodyguard.

Here's an extra
clip, just in case.

I don't even know
how to handle this.

This is the safety.
Full back, it won't fire.

One notch forward, semi-automatic.
One squeeze, one shot.

You have been in the
Enforcement Section too long.

Forget about full
automatic. Keep it on semi.

Oh, look, this clinic has
an international reputation.

And don't get fancy. Use both
hands to aim, all right? There you are.

Napoleon, nobody's gonna
try to finish off Waverly in here.

You're angry, Elmont.

And why not? Of
all the fool stunts.

Elmont, if our dear Mr. Waverly
was suspicious of Farmington before...

that chess game was
all the proof he needed.

I did what had to be done.

But why a marginal dose of
poison? Why not just kill him?

I wonder why
Thrush tolerates you.

Kill Mr. Waverly?

One of the five top men in
the U.N.C.L.E. Organization.

Kill him...

when we can let him go right
back to work with a slight handicap?

Like Korzos and Farmington.

And others.

The waiter at the club.

What if he talks?

David has already
persuaded him not to.

Haven't you, David?

Who is it?

Miss Bergstrom?

I said, "who is
it?" not "come in."

I recondition them.

Oh, you'll have to excuse me I was
looking for your brother, uh, Niels.

The light was on.

I'd like to speak to him.

I'm sorry. My
brother can't help you.

Do you, uh, always
make up his mind for him?

I'm afraid I have to
make up his mind for him.

Look, I get paid $4 for
every one of these I do.

And I have to deliver the whole
bunch by 7:00 in the morning.

Or lose a client.
And I can't afford it.

Now you're wasting
my very valuable time.

Just...? Just for
seeing my brother?

Just for, uh,
seeing your brother.

We don't need it, you know.

Actually, my business
is doing quite well.

Come on.

Mr. Bergstrom.

I'm sorry.

How long has he, uh...?

Four years.

- And you take care of him all by yourself?
- What's wrong with that?

Nothing, nothing at all.

Listen, mister, you don't have to feel
sorry for us. I've got my own business.

I know.

You just wait.

Someday we're gonna move
into a nice neighborhood...

where I can walk
Niels down the street...

and there won't be all those
drunks making remarks.

- You just wait.
- Excuse me.

- Yes?
- I seem to have hit a brick wall.

- How did you make out with Farmington?
- I believe he knows nothing.

The only thing of
pertinence is Mr. Waverly...

was probing a number of diplomatic
blunders Farmington made recently.

So you're at a dead end too?

Well, only in a literal
manner of speaking.

I think we can safely assume
that the waiter was guilty.

But we're not going to get
anything from him, Napoleon.

Mr. Samoy.

- How was your flight from Calcutta?
- Very fast, Mr. Solo, very fast.

We knew one of Mr. Waverly's counterparts
would fly in under a Code 20 alert.

- We didn't know which.
- Security precaution.

What is the latest news
concerning Waverly?

Uh, still critical.

The communiqué I
received mentioned Thrush.

Yes, the waiter who
administered the poison.

We found a small
two-way radio in his room...

definitely a design
used by Thrush.

- Naturally we've taken extra precautions.
- Mm-hm.

We have Mr. Waverly
under constant guard.

Jason.

Jason, I wanna catch
a couple hours' sleep.

You call me in the staff lounge
if there's any change, will you?

You see, Dr. Elmont, as time
passes, they begin to relax.

I'm beginning to wish I never
heard of you and Thrush.

And this infernal machine.

It's madness.

Elmont.

You knew there was risk involved.
It's not just taking out an appendix.

Think.

We have Waverly in our grasp.

What do we gain if
we merely kill him?

They do have men to replace him.

- The secrets that man's mind must hold.
- Hey.

The human mind, like an
interplanetary missile, Elmont.

One minor fault to
lose its effectiveness.

I know all this.

A single malfunctioning
condenser here.

And a minor short circuit here.

Instead of the mess and furor of
assassinating an enemy physically...

we destroy only that part of
him which can do us harm.

And before we are finished,
we shall have ground U.N.C.L.E...

along with Mr. Waverly, into
the mud beneath our heels.

Niels!

Niels, no.

If only we knew
what was the matter.

If only you could do something.

Thank you very
much, Miss Bergstrom.

For what?

Waverly's last
words still puzzle me.

Farmington. Korzos. Bergstrom.

Then very weakly,
"Have... Have killed."

I don't understand.

Neither do I.

That would seem
to be clear enough.

But of the three, Korzos is
the only one actually dead.

And Thrush doesn't
work that slowly.

You men of the western
world, so literal-minded.

Now, in my own hemisphere, a
man such as Mr. Farmington...

a statesman whose brilliant career
appears to be slipping downhill...

might very well be
thought of as dying.

Mr. Korzos, whose vast industrial
empire is lying in dust at his feet.

Wasn't the essential spirit
of this man destroyed...

or perhaps assassinated even
before he put a gun to his head?

What about, uh, Bergstrom?

It's almost as if
he were half dead.

Or in Mr. Solo's
words, as good as dead.

Wait a minute. Wait a minute.

Not "have killed." "Half killed." That's
what Waverly was trying to tell us.

Yes.

There is no doubt the Thrush has
discovered some way to assassinate a man.

To half kill him
quite literally.

Thrush?

An organization with one simple
ambition in this world. To dominate it.

That explains why Waverly wasn't
given a fatal dose of the poison.

Now, could Thrush have wanted
him taken to the Hobart Clinic?

The Hobart Clinic
appears to be a Thrush trap.

Now, what do you intend to do?

- Well, to get Mr. Waverly out of there.
- One moment, please.

We must discover
how this thing is done.

Is this deathless-assassination
technique...

is it a rather complicated
operation, Mr. Solo?

Performed in a hospital
by a highly-skilled hand?

Or perhaps, a hypodermic
injection administered by a nurse?

Or, heaven help us...

a simple liquid, which might be dumped
by any hireling into a reservoir system...

to mentally assassinate
an entire city?

We must protect Mr. Waverly.

We, of Section 1, have pledged
our lives by the same oath...

as have you enforcement
officers of Section 2.

Alert your people at the clinic.

But let Waverly remain there.

All agents. Set Condition
Mushroom, Code 6.

Alert all agents. Set Condition
Mushroom. Jason, Cartier, stand by.

Now we must concentrate on discovering
exactly who the patriots of Thrush are.

All right, I guess I'll have to
go back to where I came in...

and start all over
again with Farmington.

What's that?

What's what?

That... That thing
you talked into.

That's the thing I talked into.

Oh.

A harmless hypnotic formula.

He won't even know he's
been out when he wakes up.

In six hours, 17 minutes.

You're feeling much better
now, Mr. Waverly, aren't you?

Relaxed, refreshed.

You find you can
talk now, can't you?

What was that?

Yes. DABREE: Good.

I'm going to ask you
some questions now.

Besides yourself, Mr. Waverly, there
are four top policy men in Section 1.

You will tell me their names
and their home addresses.

The first one, Mr. Waverly.

Monsieur Bonet David.

226 Rue des Pins, Paris, France.

Mr. Curtis Lee Albeim.

78 Westover.

As a matter of fact, yes.

Dr. Elmont is my
personal physician.

Well, tell me, did he ever perform
any, um, operations on you?

Yes, a minor one. He removed a
small cyst from the back of my neck.

Well, where there any,
uh, unusual aftereffects?

Yes, as a matter of fact...

I did have a blinding headache
for almost a week afterwards.

Mm-hm.

Is it conceivable that
about this time that, uh...?

Well, that certain things
started going wrong for you?

Exactly what do
you mean by that?

Mm, some difficulties in
your chess game, perhaps...

some, uh, setbacks in your work.

Mr. Solo.

There are certain cliques
in the State Department...

that are busily
promulgating the rumor...

that Calvin Farmington
is, and I quote, "in trouble."

That he is, in fact, finished.

Well, let me assure you that there is
no truth whatsoever in these rumors.

I, uh, have had one
or two minor difficulties.

But these minor
miscalculations are unusual...

only because Calvin
Farmington made them.

However, I don't intend to discuss
that matter with you or anyone else.

Good day, sir.

Did you catch
all of that, Illya?

Yes, it's most interesting. And it's
beginning to tie together, Napoleon.

Korzos' secretary
has been most helpful.

Korzos also went to Dr. Elmont.

He spent two days at the clinic
approximately one year ago.

There's, uh, nothing
more of importance.

Farmington, Korzos, Waverly...

Dr. Elmont. Humph.

Now just where
does Bergstrom fit in?

I shouldn't have let you do it.

No matter how much
money you paid me.

I already explained that,
Cecille. The money doesn't matter.

You would have let us, anyway.

Because what we hope to discover,
may save more than one person's life.

All right, then.

But I just feel so mercenary
taking money for it.

Well, listen, I mean, if it
really bothers you that much...

You know something, Mr. Solo.

I think people, some people anyway,
have forgotten what money is really for.

I mean, well, they think it's to buy
fancy furniture and swimming pools...

or just to keep up
with the Joneses.

But there are some people who
need money for more basic things.

Like, we need money for food...

and to have a roof
over our head...

and to buy clothes.

I guess you can't
understand that.

No, as hard as it may be for you
to believe, I can understand that.

No scars.

Well, whatever the technique used,
apparently it's rather complicated.

It only seems to be happening to
those people who go to the Hobart Clinic.

Except Mr. Bergstrom.
He's never been there.

For that, you should be getting
your answers gift-wrapped.

Well, money works a lot
faster than arguing with her.

I don't wanna have any more
to do with either one of you.

Now, you say your brother's doctor
at County General Hospital was...?

Dr. Suslow, an old, old man who died
shortly after my brother left the hospital.

And you never met or heard
of anyone called Doctor...?

Dr. Elmont? No.

And my brother never had
anything wrong with his mind before.

They said the reason he's the way
he is, is because we lost our parents.

He had all that pain when he
had the stomach operations.

He was afraid of dying.

And he worried himself sick
about what would happen to me.

Do you recall the names of any of the
other doctors involved, even temporarily.

Oh, uh, I don't
know. Dr. Dabree.

- Dabree?
- Dabree?

Well...

Well, yes.

How did you happen
to remember her?

I, uh... I asked her how
much money she earns.

Well, she is a woman
doctor, you know.

Elmont and Dabree.

I better get over to the clinic.

And I'll draw a little of their
fire in our own direction.

I'm sorry, sir. No one is
allowed on the 5th or 6th floor.

Dr. Dabree left
strict instructions.

A hepatitis quarantine.
All elevators are shut down.

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

I just won't do it.

- You're not letting me explain.
- You don't have to explain.

Listen. If your friend is up to his
neck in danger like you say he is...

and I try to help, now won't
some of that rub off on me?

Yeah, there is a, uh, certain
amount of risk involved.

Oh, please just
don't ask me again.

I've got all the
trouble I can handle.

I just can't handle anymore.

Cecille.

Cecille, uh...

I think...

Niels!

He's started doing
things like that lately.

I'm really worried.

Cecille, uh, perhaps,
if you help me...

I may be able to help you...

and Niels.

And this time it's worth...

one thousand dollars.

Just one little telephone call.

One thousand dollars.

Such beautiful tape recordings.

Such lovely secrets they hold.

Thrush will be very pleased.

Yes?

It's for Dr. Dabree.

A Miss Bergstrom.

Bergstrom? Berg...

Bergstrom.

I'll speak to her.

Yes, Miss Bergstrom.

It is Dr. Dabree.

What did you want?

Recovering? In what way?

Oh.

Oh, I see.

Tell me, Miss Bergstrom...

how did you find
out where to call me?

When my brother started getting
better, I called the General Hospital...

and they told me you've
moved to the Hobart Clinic.

Uh, yes, I know.

Well, um...

Well, I just thought you
might tell me something to do...

to make him get better
faster or something.

She isn't even interested.

Don't worry, she's interested.

Oh, boy.

Boy, oh, boy, oh, boy.

Oh, boy! Oh, boy! Oh, boy!

I didn't know it was so
much fun having money.

- You know what I'm gonna do?
- No, what are you gonna do?

I mean, just for
me, just for myself.

I'm gonna get somebody to
take care of Niels one evening...

and I'm going to one of those,
you know, some place like:

I'll bet you go to those rich
restaurants all the time, don't you?

Oh, you mean places like, uh:

Yeah, I mean, the way
you throw money around.

Oh, gosh, just think.

Candelabras and waiters
and maybe an orchestra.

- Oh, my gosh.
- What's wrong?

Oh, my gosh. Well,
I just can't do it.

I mean, well, if I do that...

then I have to buy clothes.

And not only clothes,
but, well, shoes and...

Everything.

I didn't know having
money was so much trouble.

Well, I'll tell you
what, Miss Bergstrom.

If this works out, you won't
have to worry about going to, uh:

Because I'll take
you there myself.

- With clothes and everything?
- With clothes and everything.

Oh! Mwah!

Now, I think our friends have had
time to make their arrangements...

so we better settle ours.

Now, I want you to stay back here
with your brother out of the way.

All right? Understood?

- Mm-hm.
- Okay.

Boy.

Niels.

Hello, Jason.

Jason? Cartier?

Jason.

Cartier.

Illya. Can you hear me, Illya?

Illya? Illya.

Elmont, you are so slow.

This is not something
that can be...

Oh, forget it. I'll be
finished in a few minutes.

If you promise not to scream
anymore, the gag will come off.

No one can hear you anyway.

Mm-hm.

Very well then.

Help...!

You are such a
nasty little creature.

Please. I promise.
No more screaming.

This will be handy.

Just in case.

Did you really do
something to my brother?

That was unfortunate.

In County General, I had only
a small room in the basement...

in which to do my work.

Yes, that was unfortunate.

How did you get involved
with Mr. Solo anyway?

Money.

Let that be a lesson to you.

Never do anything for money.

Only do those things
which you enjoy doing.

You're not gonna use
that on me, are you?

Can you think of a better way
for us to keep your mouth shut?

Very well, then.

Help! Help! Help!

Nurse, have you...?

Illya.

They've blocked off the 5th and 6th
floors. They claim a hepatitis quarantine.

They will not allow
anyone off the elevator.

You all right?

I've felt better. My head.

What about the stairs?

I'm sure the stairway's guarded.

If we try to go up to Mr. Waverly,
they'll kill him before we could reach him.

All right, if we can't
go up, we'll go down.

All right, Mr. Waverly
is on the 5th floor...

so you'll have to punch four, five
and six. But be sure to get off at four.

Yes, I shall. And
you, my friend?

When it stops at
six, I'll get off at five.

I'll give you two minutes to get to
Mr. Waverly then I'll start up the stairs.

Good luck.

- Thank you.
- Well, what now?

Finish what you
are doing, Elmont.

I'll check and see
what's going on outside.

David.

David.

We are all ready.

All right, resign yourself,
doctor, the operation is over.

I had no intention of arguing.

Sorry.

Mr. Solo, I'm gonna cry.

Do you suppose I could get a
couple of aspirin around here?

Don't.

I could not return to Calcutta
without first seeing that machine.

Truly fantastic.

You didn't drop by to
ask about my health?

Good heavens, no.

Let me assure you, my dear
Alexander, if this thing happens again...

we shall simply dust off our
hands and let them keep you.

We've located the
missing briefcase?

No, I fear the tape recordings are
undoubtedly in the hands of Thrush.

Well, I should hope so.

After the endless hours I
spent being programmed...

to impart false information if
placed under the influence of drugs...

believe me I...

Ha, I shouldn't wanna think that all
those miserable hours had gone to waste.

Well, it ends well.

Except...

why haven't we found
the body of that woman...

who you told me fell
down the elevator shaft?

Oh, you should have seen Elmont.

His face was like a
blank, mindless child.

Don't carry on, Flo.

I shall get Solo for you.

And for Elmont...

and for David.

I shall make Mr. Solo
pay his pound of flesh.

What's wrong?

Well, for a moment...

I tell you, if I were inclined
toward being superstitious...

I'd swear someone just
stepped on my grave.

Come on.

I prefer dancing on my grave.