All language subtitles for The Man From U.N.C.L.E. S02E03 The Ultimate Computer Affair.eng

Hey, amigo.

Buenos, buenos or whatever. Heh.

My rotund friend, since you
are obviously very well-fed...

and I am a little hungry...

perhaps you could treat
me to an enchilada or two...

and I will sing for you, huh?

Sin vergüenza.

Hey!

Hey, you are very rude.
I refuse to eat with you.

Give me your wallet, I
will buy the food for myself.

Policía! Policía! Policía!

Policía! Policía!

Open Channel D, please.

Hemispheric relay.

QV ready and receiving.
Proceed with report.

This is Feodore.

You may inform Mr. Waverly that
I have just been beaten, robbed...

and sung to by a very
foul, smelly young man...

who has probably earned himself
at least five years at hard labor.

At least, we hope so, don't we?

Feodore's report from Chacua.

Sarah, you're devastating,
and I'm mad about you.

Oh, no, you're not getting me anywhere
near that secret map room again.

Read.

Uh-huh.

Suppose, my darling, you
wanted to build a fortress...

you know, with guards,
guns, maximum security...

very secret, very impregnable...

where would you put that kind
of thing, that fortress? Hmm?

I don't know. I never
wanted to be impregnable.

Oh, I see.

Well, I think if you were
Thrush, you'd probably put it...

where there were already
guns and guards and security.

Possibly somewhere like this.

A penal colony in South America.

We will turn the computer over to Thrush.
Have your men prepare for the transfer.

Cervantes, there you are.

Come take a look.

All right.

We've just concluded at the
British Museum in London...

and we are almost finished at
the Huntington Library in California.

And that completes
our entire programming.

Amazing.

Look at it.

Mmm.

How I hate it with its
inhuman perfection. Hmp.

- In my day, young man...
- We're no longer in your day, old man.

Look at it, I say...

all the knowledge in the
world with one push of a button.

That's the generation
we're in now.

Subjective error,
human frailty, eliminated.

Look at it.

And man shall not worship idols.

And that's where it is.

Where what is?

The Thrush ultimate computer.

A mechanical brain with a
memory bank that has every tidbit...

every fact, every bit of knowledge
that Thrush will ever need against us.

Well, what's that
got to do with it?

So if all Thrush has to
do is push a little button...

to have their policies
mathematically computed...

and their battle tactics
perfectly planned...

Sugarpie...

Oh.

The Thrush octopus makes
few enough mistakes as it is.

And that machine, once operative,
could render it almost infallible.

Will you get me the Oliver
file, Miss, uh, Sugarpie?

Yes, Mr. Waverly.

Enter.

Well, young man, let's see.

Forged passport, attempted
robbery, assault? Tsk, tsk.

Quite a colorful young fellow.

Well, you'll find we
are simple folk here.

Up at dawn to watch the sunrise,
plenty of hard work and the fresh air.

Breakfast, of course,
is continental style.

Oh, hmm, yes, if
you try to escape...

we will sever the tendons
behind your knees...

so you will never be
able to try that again.

And naturally, we trust that over the
course of the next, um, seven years...

our relationship will develop
into a warm and lasting friendship.

Good day.

Well, I beat you both.
I've got a full house.

Ahem. Come on.

Deal them again.

Hello. Yes, just
a minute, please.

Well, what do you
want? I'm busy. Huh?

Oh, hello, Cervantes,
where have you been?

Admitting a new
prisoner, governor.

A rather special one, I think.

The business of Thrush takes precedence
over all of your silly prison paperwork.

I've told you that.

You torture those poor
devils on your own time.

I believe I have seen the
new prisoner before, governor...

in a file I once saw prior to my
joining computer security here.

A file? What file? What file?

If my memory serves
me right, governor...

the new prisoner, one
Illya Kuryakin by name...

happens to be an
U.N.C.L.E. agent.

We have less than a week...

before Thrush takes the computer
out of Chacua into the field.

Sir, getting Illya imprisoned
in the penal colony...

doesn't necessarily guarantee
he'll get a shot at the computer.

Thrush must have a million electronic
warning devices all over the place.

Well, that's quite right.

Powered by generators
located somewhere in here.

And that will be
your job, Mr. Solo.

Knock out the power that
supplies their alarm system...

so that Mr. Kuryakin can reach
the computer and destroy it.

Well, how do you propose
I coordinate my activities...

outside the penal colony
with those of Illya in the inside?

Observe.

Miss Salty Oliver?

Age, 26 years, field worker...

for the International Society for the
Improvement of World Penal Conditions.

Presently assigned to the
penal colony at Chacua.

And authorized by
international regulations...

to go in and out
of the place at will.

Oh, I see. How do we get to her?

She's here in New York, now.

Making her annual
progress report to the society.

And if we work
things properly...

she should be stepping into
our offices in about an hour.

- Good morning.
- Good morning.

I'm Miss Oliver. I suppose
the hotel called you.

Some myopic waiter stepped
on the hem of my dress.

Darned near on
purpose if you ask me.

- If you'll just step in the fitting room.
- Okay.

Yes, please.

Oh, you're to bill
them, you understand?

Yes, ma'am.

Oh.

You have any comprehension...

- I understand perfectly, Mr. Solo.
- Good.

U.N.C.L.E. are the good
guys. Thrush are the bad guys.

Something of a simplifica...

Grown men thrashing around
like power-mad juveniles.

What kind of television
do you people watch?

If you'll just remain
quiet for one moment, I...

Oh, and the bad guys
have this secret computer...

who does everybody's
laundry or something.

I mean, really, the
whole thing's absurd.

Not quite as absurd
you may think it is.

What is all this anyway?

Have mercy on me for one moment
and listen to what I'm trying to tell you.

What do you think I'm doing?

I realize the whole thing
seems a bit fantastic to you...

No need to be rude, you know.

- I mean, after all, I didn't ask...
- Is it possible for you to be quiet?

Could you be quiet?

Well, it is possible.

Now, if the Thrush
ultimate computer is used...

there's very good chance that
half of the people in the world...

will be subjected to a subservience
far worse than the poor souls...

that you administer
unto at the penal colony.

Does that sound like television?

Well...

Oh, for goodness sakes, what
do you want me for anyway?

For company.

I mean, you do go in and
out of the penal colony.

There isn't any
hotel down there...

and you are quartered
at the governor's house.

Oh, the governor.

I can well imagine that he's
one of those Thrushbirds...

or whatever you're
talking about.

Dirty old man.

Well, you live at his house.

Oh, yes. His one concession
to morality, I'm sure.

Anyway, what good
does that do you?

I mean, I can't take you home with
me, you know, like a bag of groceries.

No, not like a
bag of groceries...

but you could take me
home if I were your husband.

Just think of it, Cervantes.

Within 12 hours...

I shall be hosting the
most elite congregation...

of Thrush officials ever
assembled. Mm-hm.

A bit young some of
them perhaps, but capable.

The computer will be
ready for presentation, sir.

Yes, the computer. Yeah.

You would think that they
would come to honor the man...

instead of the
machine, wouldn't you?

But, sir, this is the
ultimate computer.

Oh, yes, well, they'll have their
computer all properly assembled...

toward the obsolescence
of the good old human mind.

Oh, and incidentally, don't
you two chicks go snuggling up...

with any of those 40-
and 50-year-old fellows...

just because they're
executives, you know.

Remember who's
the papa around here.

Hold on to that,
monsieur. Go on.

Excuse me, governor. Miss Oliver,
she is here with her new husband, sir.

Her husband, eh? She...

I still can't believe it.

You missed out there
too, didn't you, huh? Hmm.

Eh, that wicked witch of the north,
she sort of appealed to you, I think, huh?

I admire intelligence, governor.

Well, so do I, but what's
that got to do with women?

I'm going to have a last-minute
check on that computer...

and then I'm going to have
a look at that not-so-silent...

and not-so-distant U.N.C.L.E. agent
that we've inherited from somewhere.

I don't like that.

Just a minute.

Can't you...? Oh.
Oh, Miss Oliver.

- Hello, governor.
- Yeah, or should I say Mrs...

Toomey, sir. Phillip Toomey.
Great pleasure, I'm sure.

- Mr. Toomey?
- Yes. Heh-heh.

There are my two nurses,
Mr. Toomey, Flora and Dora.

They help to make
life a little easier for me.

And this is Cervantes, the
captain of the prison guard.

Yes, sir. Great pleasure.

Yes, of course.

I say, do you golf,
captain, by any chance?

- Do I what?
- What about you, guv?

Guv, that's good, isn't it? Guv.

Governor, I'll be making my usual
rounds at the penal colony this afternoon.

No, come now, this
is your honeymoon.

You do know about
honeymoons, don't you?

You know, I've
lived in this room...

but somehow, it doesn't seem quite
so dreary with somebody else here.

I'm sure that when you
really do get married...

that some nice young guy's
gonna feel exactly the same way.

Well, I...

I guess I better
change for a bath.

Where did you say it was...

when the guards shooed
you away from the area?

I was out riding by the river.

Couple of Cervantes' Neanderthals found
me and acted as if I was on sacred soil.

Mm-hm.

Is that the river at the
north end of the peninsula?

Yes.

Huh.

Well, I might be doing
a little boating myself...

this afternoon, my dear.

Hmm.

You be very careful that nobody
sees you when you drop this package.

What package?

The...

What's the matter?

Not a thing that I can think of.

Captain Cervantes.

Captain Cervantes.

What? Huh...

Ah, Señora Toomey.

How can you justify the use of
these whips on human beings?

Ooh!

Well, perhaps the same
way you can justify giving aid...

to that U.N.C.L.E.
agent out there.

What are you talking about?

Also to your
so-called husband...

whom, by the way, my men have
already arrested for trespassing.

Of course, the governor
knows about Kuryakin.

But I think he would
be so surprised...

if I told him that your
handsome bridegroom...

is also an U.N.C.L.E.
agent, that you would have...

very little chance of
leaving this place alive.

Please, I'll tell him to leave.

He can go without
hurting anything, please.

You are a very
spirited girl, Salty.

Also very desirable.

Surely you must know that I
have looked on you for some time...

with a degree of longing.

Yes, I know.

Then suppose the
governor finds out nothing...

about your Mr. Toomey from me.

Suppose I go so far as
to be of service to you.

Your heroes will go free,
which is what you want.

And I get you.
Which is what I want.

It's a fair deal, mi alma.

You do want your
bridegroom to survive?

Yes.

Muy bueno.

Then tell Kuryakin that he need
to wait only 10 minutes tonight...

when the cook brings the
guards their evening coffee.

It will be drugged.

He should have no trouble.

And, mi corazon...

if he should ask you how
come you got my help so easily...

tell him you just
couldn't resist me.

I hope you haven't been
too uncomfortable, Mr. Solo.

Oh, no. No, no.
Normal, as I should've.

Is this the last one? Yes.

Oh, the weapon is loaded
and the bullets are real, yeah.

I'm not quite sure you are.

Very foolish of you to go poking around
our generators by yourself, Mr. Solo.

But if they were somehow
to be put out of commission...

then your friend, Mr. Kuryakin,
will have no difficulties...

with the computer alarm
system now, would he?

Well, if the bullets
are real, captain...

you'd do well to not
move around right now.

I have drugged the prison guards' coffee
so your friend should find his job easy...

providing you and I can
take out the generators, huh?

Well, well, well?

It's rather odd that a Thrush security
captain will be playing Henry Helpful.

Mr. Solo...

in about one hour, several high-ranking
Thrush officials will congregate here...

to take delivery of the computer for
use against U.N.C.L.E. in the field.

Now, you do have a choice. Yes.

You can either trust me or...

- Yes, as they say, go on.
- Heh.

Or you can fail to stop the computer,
get killed yourself in the bargain...

and let Thrush
conquer the world.

It's up to you, of course.

- Of course.
- Heh.

By the way, where's Salty?

Back in the house
waiting, safely...

but not for you.

You see, I promise her I'll help you
before she and I go away together.

Chivalrous devil, aren't you?

Hold it.

What's the time? When do
the guards get that coffee?

The drugs should have
worked about 12 minutes ago.

Your friend should
be inside by now.

Is that right? With the alarm
system still functioning?

I know this one. His name is
Rodriguez, he's a very good shot.

Rodriguez! Rodriguez!

Rodriguez!

Rodriguez!

Well, after all, how do you
think I got to be captain?

- Well, that's that.
- Not quite.

Whatever deal you finagled
with Salty, don't count on it.

Oh, but you see, I am
counting on it, señor.

You see, after all my bargain
was with her, not with you.

Enough. A Thrush doesn't change
his feathers just to please a lady.

Now, let's start
leveling with each other.

Listen, gringo, I'm in as
much trouble as you now.

What do you say we get the girl out of
here before we kill each other over her?

The job is done. And so am I.

I'm sunburned, blistered,
grimy and very, very hungry.

I'm glad I don't have to take
you out in public anywhere.

Now, get that disreputable-looking body
out of here as fast as you can, posthaste.

I'm going back after Salty.

Going back for Salty,
but you can't go alone.

Now, don't make waves,
Illya. I'll join you later.

Take care.

Tomorrow morning, you can put in
your complaint to Thrush if you want to.

But tonight, whether you
like it or not, you are a waiter.

Now, get going.

Si, patron.

And wash your hands. Uh...

Well, well, well.

Well, the blushing bride, what
have you done to yourself?

- Having a party, governor?
- Yes, indeed I am.

And I would love to have had
the newlyweds join us, but...

Thanks just the same.

But we've had other
plans and, well, I...

Unfortunately, what with
your U.N.C.L.E. bridegroom...

on his way here to get killed and
you about to be bound and gagged...

Oh, my dear, how
pale you look. Heh.

Perhaps you'd
better sit down, huh?

Come in here.

I don't know what you people
are up to, but I can advise you to...

Actually, my dear, I have known
about the prisoner Kuryakin...

and Napoleon Solo
for quite some time now.

Well, now, just a minute.

As a matter of fact it was I
who had Cervantes offer you...

that little proposition.

You see, my dear, we've
known for some time...

that U.N.C.L.E. would continue
assaults against the ultimate computer.

So we allowed that
Kuryakin fellow...

to destroy what he thinks was
the computer, do you understand?

Well, now see here,
governor, you can't...

And Kuryakin will make a
daring escape back to U.N.C.L.E...

and report a job well done.

Then they will pat him on the head and
they will stop looking for the computer.

Clever, huh? Here, have a drink.

No, thank you. What are
you gonna do about Solo?

Oh, your Napoleon?
Well, that's another matter.

He should be on his way
here right now to rescue you.

Although as far as I'm
concerned, I don't see why.

- Go on, have a drink.
- No, I don't want a drink.

You let the other one go,
why don't you let Solo go?

I'll stay, I'll do
what you want.

The only thing I want from you,
young lady, is to stop bellowing.

That's my privilege.

I couldn't afford to let two
top U.N.C.L.E. officials escape.

That'd be bad business.

There's one thing I
will do for you, though.

What?

I'll bury the two of you
side by side, how's that?

Salty.

Salty?

- Salty?
- We're gonna try downstairs.

The Thrush guests have all
arrived, I think. And be careful.

Don't hesitate to use that gun if
you have to. I don't want to die here.

Well, well, well, Mr. Solo.

Well, now, where
have you been? Hmm?

You look so disheveled and
you've lost your mustache too.

Oh, my, my.

Where has he been, Cervantes?

Where would you like me?

In there, please.

And do something about that
wailing wife of yours, will you?

She's been crying
all over my carpet.

Salty?

- What on Earth have you...
- Done to yourself?

Napoleon, your friend
destroyed the wrong computer.

I mean, whatever it was he
destroyed was the wrong one.

I'm afraid, Mr. Solo, I have
not been quite honest with you.

Well, that doesn't come
as much of a shock to me.

You let Illya escape so
U.N.C.L.E. would think...

that their worries about the
ultimate computer were over?

Mmm. Very astute
for a young fellow.

Governor, we better hurry. The men
are ready to bring the computer up.

Very fine, very fine.

Mr. Solo, we'll come
back later and kill you...

after all the strangers leave.

Oh. I see, you mean the
bigwigs might get worried...

if they thought us little U.N.C.L.E.
agents were sneaking around, huh?

Oh, nonsense.

We wouldn't want to upset them
while they're praising me, you know.

Oh, yes. Might I borrow
your pen, please?

Yes.

Thank you very much.

Napoleon?

Napoleon?

- Napoleon?
- Hmm?

Could you have
been attracted to me?

Aside from our
being married, I mean.

Well, if I weren't quite
so tied up at the moment...

I would show you.

That's nice.

You know, it's funny...

when you're time's running
out, you begin regretting...

I mean, I...

Well, I think one should take
one's emotions when one can...

shouldn't one?

Indubitably.

Many months ago,
Thrush honored me...

by leaving the ultimate computer
in my care for its final preparation.

And I can modestly
say that now...

as I near the end of my long
and devoted Thrush career...

Engineering and maintenance.

Be careful, you fools.
Yes, down this way, please.

Very, very careful, yes.
Now, bring it in there, here.

You, all of you,
come with us inside.

Come on.

No, no, no, not you. Get
back there at the door.

And as, like that old soldier...

am about to slowly
fade away, I...

U.N.C.L.E. agent.

Aah!

Can't you do anything right?
You're supposed to be halfway home.

Me? Is it me that got himself
tied up like a helpless child?

No. It's you who blew up
the wrong computer, though.

- What?
- The real one's right here in the house.

Oh, that's what it was.

- How awkward.
- Mm-hm.

Those Thrush are going to take
the computer when they leave here.

Either we barge in there right
now and nail it or we lose it.

The guards, they'll shoot you.

- Heh.
- Oh, no. You don't understand.

You're gonna get killed.

And for a practical demonstration of how
thoroughly the computer has replaced...

the need for mere human
intelligence, I shall now...

Good evening.

Good evening,
ladies and gentlemen.

Hello, sir. Good evening, madam.

Enjoying your fruit
there? Isn't it nice?

Very nice.

Good evening, sir.

Sorry to be late, governor.

Stop her. Stop her.

All right, folks. Step to
the rear of the bus, please.

The prisoners are escaping!
The U.N.C.L.E. agent.

Cervantes, Cervantes.
Stay here, stay here.

They went outside.

They went outside!

Now, if you wanna save your
little magic pinball machine...

all you've gotta do is rush me.

You see, I only got one bomb.

And all I have to do is toss it
your way instead of this way, see?

Security, huh?

Good luck.

Hey, our prisoner!
The Jeep! Stop him!

Do something. Do something.

Oh, please don't get
sneaky. I'm warning you.

Good evening,
ladies and gentlemen.

Good girl, Salty.

We'll be leaving.

This is going to explode,
ladies and gentlemen.

If Thrush gives award...

you don't mind the possibility
of a posthumous one.

And I would suggest
that you come and get it.

All right.

- Old man, you've made a bad mistake.
- Hmm.

- Bye-bye, baby.
- Bye, sweetie.

Oh.

- Oh, no, fatso.
- Uhn! Uhn!

No, no. Stay, fatso...

and enjoy your mechanical
marvel a little while longer, huh?

- Governor!
- Eeeh.

Tilt.

Oh, there's filthy now.

Stop fiddling with that. It's
time to go and take a bath.

Fiddling? I can't
get this thing to work.

I've radioed the
Chacuan police...

but there are Thrush guards
all over the countryside.

Napoleon.

Napoleon?

Napoleon!

Oh, Salty, my love, the first
evening we're back in New York...

is going to rival the
night on Olympus.

The wine, the warmth and us.

Oh, not you.

I thought you will be more
special than the rest of them.

- Ahem - The rest of them?

The rest of them.

Yes, he has a kind of an odd...

- Well, you see, occasionally...
- Napoleon Solo.