All language subtitles for Orders.To.Kill.1958.1080p.BluRay.H264.AAC-RARBG

(SPEAKING WITH FRENCH ACCENT)
Madame has hurt herself?

Oh!
No, it's just a scratch, Louise.

He was a colt
when Gene went away.

So was Gene, Madame.

Louise, you're a silly sentimental
old French nursemaid.

Gene isn't a baby anymore!

You're not giving him
his bottle in Paris...

but a hero's welcome
in Boston.

Now Louise,
let's not make fools of ourselves.

Where's that school pennant of his?

-I put it in the mothballs, Madame.
-Mothballs, Louise?

(TELEPHONE RINGING)

That's my call from Washington.

Put it up there, Louise.

Hello.

Oh, thank you.

Er... General Nolan?

Jake.
This is Daisy Summers.

Jake, can you spare me
three minutes?

Two then.
Tell the plane to wait.

It's about that boy of mine, Gene.

This is for you, Major Kimball, sir,
from the General Nolan himself.

There's this grounded Air Corps Captain,
Gene Summers, flying in tomorrow.

General says
can you find him a chair.

It's personal, he knows his mother.

Okay, okay, give it to me.

I'll find his momma a chair
if the General wants it.

An electric one.

Er... Don't tell the General
I said that, huh?

No, sir. Anyway, the General
just left again for Cairo, so...

(DOOR OPENING)

KIMBALL:
Oh, Colonel Snyder!

Lieutenant, take a look at this
and let me know your views.

LIEUTENANT:
Yes, sir.

I've been with the Free French.

Commandant Morand's got a problem.

Morand, tell Major Kimball
what you told the meeting.

-Good morning, Major.
-Morning.

Come on, come on,
that's not what you told the meeting.

Okay, let's sit down.

Well, it's like this.

Last night, Andre,
one of our few remaining

Free French radio operators
in the Paris area,

radioed London
that he was getting off the air.

He said that our Paris organisation
was furiously disturbed.

There were nine of our agents
using one and the same man

as an intermediary,
as a "cut-out",

between themselves and Xavier,
your radio operator.

-Out of these nine, four are dead.
-Four out of nine.

Well, er... Who is this intermediary,
this "cut-out"?

He's a small-time lawyer.

A man called Lafitte.
Marcel Lafitte.

That ring a bell, Major?

Yes, sir, he's one of ours.

We've got nothing on him.

Four out of the nine agents
who used him as a "cut-out" are dead.

Five, if you count Xavier.

Did you know this, Major?

Well, naturally I knew
of the Free French losses,

but I never thought of tying them in
with Lafitte.

We've... We've had no reason
to suspect his loyalty.

With four out of his nine contacts dead,
five if you count Xavier?

-So you want him eliminated?
-With your agreement, he is your man.

You have it, we agree.

MORAND:
Thank you.

Well, who have you got
to kill him?

So who have we got?

"We," sir?

This is a big country
with lots of people.

We got the Free French into a jam,
so we get them out.

Lafitte's our baby and we Kill him.

Can you call off all his contacts

and put in a substitute
without him getting suspicious?

Yes, provided he thinks the substitute
is only temporary.

But if you keep him idle
for too long,

a month at most,
he'll know you suspect him.

SNYDER:
He won't have time

to think any such thing,
will he, Major?

Er... No, sir.

Major Kimball has my personal order
to mount this operation

and keep you informed
at every stage of the mission.

-Does that solve your problem?
-It does, Colonel. I'm very grateful.

Have you any problems, Major?

-KIMBALL: No, sir.
-Fine, then that's settled.

-Better make it quick.
-Er... Yes, sir.

Mitchell.

Yes, sir?

Who have we got in Paris
we can spare for a murder?

Why, no-one, sir.
That's not the way you work.

Thank you.

What's the mission?

Well, the Free French suspect
Lafitte's sold out to the Germans.

Colonel Snyder wants him eliminated.

(WHISTLING)

Well, who have we got
in reserve?

-Four radio operators.
-No.

Dominic, he's in England now.
He could be dropped next moon.

No, he's a fully trained
battle order man.

We'll need him
for our D-Day operations.

Can't waste him on a job like this.
Who else?

I've been looking at this file,

the one General Nolan sent.
Captain Summers.

Lived in Paris till he was 15.
Speaks perfect French.

Silver Star, DFC, and Purple Heart.

Flew fifty missions
before he was grounded.

The medical report says he's in first class
physical and mental condition,

but his reflexes have become too slow
for combat flying.

I guess he's just tired.

All right. Apply for a temporary transfer
from the Air Corps

and have him report to me
as soon as he flies in tomorrow.

If he looks possible, we'll send him
right over to screening camp.

Can't tell him anything specific until
he's been cleared with the psychiatrist.

I'm sorry, no.

Okay, Doc. Look, I'll buy all that,
but precisely what's wrong with him?

In an ordinary context, nothing.
He's a nice, normal guy.

-So?
-So this isn't an ordinary context.

You don't want a nice, normal guy,
you want a nimble-witted thug.

Are you telling me
he has no courage?

I'm telling you he's over-anxious
to prove that he has.

Oh, of all the...

Dammit!
He doesn't need to prove it.

-Have you seen this-this flying record?
-Yeah.

It's all here in black and white
and blood and guts.

He's been terrifically brave.

That's what I mean!

What do you mean,
that's what you mean?

I mean, terrific bravery isn't the sort
of bravery you need for this job.

You need a mixture
of level-headed shrewdness,

maturity,
and tough unimaginative nerve.

Well, who's saying he's imaginative?

Look, what did he say
to you about bombing?

He said when you drop bombs,

you don't think what
might happen when it goes off.

He said you drop bombs
or you don't win wars.

Now, don't tell me that's being
over-imaginative.

There's a heck of a lot
of psychological difference

between being unable
to imagine something

and not allowing yourself
to imagine it.

I think... and I wouldn't know
without deep analysis...

Look, Doc, Doc, Doc,
quit stalling.

I need the job done.
I need it done quick because...

Because Frenchmen are dying.

Now, give me a straight answer.
Could he do it?

(SIGHING)

I'll give you a crooked one.
He might.

Captain Summers,

you must have killed
a hell of a lot of Germans

in that fighter bomber of yours.

How would you like
to kill us one man?

Well, er... you don't have
to say yes right away.

You were going to say yes,
weren't you?

Yes, sir.

Well, now's the time to say no,
if you want to.

No-one is gonna call you a coward,
no-one is gonna think you're yellow.

They'd better not.

You'll go back to the Air Corps
and there'll be nothing about this interview

in your record sheet,
you'll get yourself a good desk job.

From my point of view,
there's still a minimum risk.

You don't know who we want you to Kill,
or how or where.

Even if you got drunk
and shot your mouth off,

there'd be no great harm done.
Except to yourself, of course.

We'd have you court-martialled.

Now, it's a fine morning.

You can take a walk for half an hour,
or... take an hour, I don't mind.

Or have yourself a talk
with Abraham Lincoln's statue,

or have yourself a Coke
at the drugstore and think it over.

How about it?

I don't feel like a walk, Major.

Meaning?

Meaning I must've killed
hundreds of Germans, like you said.

Meaning I guess
I could kill you one more.

And I'd sooner talk it over with you
than with Abraham Lincoln.

Good boy.

I had a hunch you were our man!

Okay, sit down, Gene.

Sit down and listen.

Now, first, he's not a German.

He's a Frenchman.

Does that make any difference?

No, but I...

He's the link, or what we call the "cut-out",
between a half-a-dozen groups or "cells"

of our espionage organisation
in Paris.

Which I believe is a city
you know something about, huh?

Okay.

Now, in the past three months,
45% of our agents

who have contacted this "cut-out"
have been arrested.

They are dead.

Do you know why?

On account of he sold them
down the river to the Germans.

So we want him dead,
and dead quick.

Now, it's an outside job.

Intelligence missions can't afford to risk
their security with any strong-arm stuff.

You're to be the strong-arm stuff.

How soon can I get going?

-How many times you jumped?
- I bailed out twice.

Did you break anything?

My watch.

That saves us a week.
Did you get on okay with the British?

Sure.

Okay. We'll have you trained in England
instead of over here.

Then you'll be ready to drop
at the first available moon.

Now remember,
you're still not fully committed.

I am not risking the security
of a top-priority mission

on the snap decision
of either one of us.

You can still back out during training
or we can kick you out.

So, until we're sure
you're the right man, and you're sure,

we'll just skip the details, okay?

Okay.

Any general questions?

-Yes, sir, three.
-Shoot.

One, when I've, er...

killed this guy,
do you get me out of France

or do I wait to have a date with you
on D-Day?

We get you out.

-Two, do I get any furlough?
-Forty-eight hours.

Three...

What do I tell them at home?

I must say, dear,
forty-eight hours seems ridiculously little

after two years overseas.

Are you sure
they didn't say forty-eight days?

I guess they just
can't win the war without me.

Is it flying?

No, Louise, it's not flying any more.

Is it hush-hush,
or can you tell us?

-What is "hush-hush"?
-Psst-psst!

Ah! Well, if it is "psst-psst",
I'd better go into the kitchen.

Oh, nonsense, Louise.
You're not Mata Hari!

GENE:
No, but you are a good cook.

That soup was terrific.

Et bien, c'était pour toi!

And for Mickey.

Hi, Mickey.

MRS SUMMERS:
What is the job, dear?

Well, I guess it's all Louise's fault
for having taught me to speak French.

Look...

Everyone knows the second front
is bound to open up in the spring,

and sooner or later
there's gonna be fighting in France.

Ella van Horn says Belgium.

(GENE LAUGHING)

Will you be fighting in France, dear?

Mother, I'm not qualified to fight anywhere
that's outside an aeroplane.

And I'm not allowed
to fight in that any more.

Grâce a Dieu!

But I do speak good French.

Gràce à toi!

So I'm to go to England
to do liaison.

Is "liaison" a desk job?

Mother, can you imagine me
doing a crummy desk job?

Er, no...

No, liaison's sort of mobile.

I'm to be part
of the organisation

that has to collate and co-ordinate
our tactical and strategical plans

with the Free French Forces
in England.

That means conveying
the gist of high-level conferences

to the Free French Headquarters
and being a sort of bell-hop

between the top-brass
on both sides.

Like, maybe between General Patton
and General Leclerc.

Or, if I get smart enough,
maybe even Eisenhower and de Gaulle.

And then doing the same sort of thing
when we invade.

Wherever Ella van Horn
says we are going to invade.

But I'll only be in the back areas!

When the shooting's all over.

When the war's over
I hope I'll know so many generals,

I'll be asked by all the biggest
corporations in the States

to become Vice-President,

in charge of making friends
and influencing people or something.

Gosh, I... I may even get to run
somebody's political campaign.

I'll be sitting pretty for life.

Mother...

(CLOCK CHIMING)

Well, I guess I'd better get used to being
the mother of a very important man.

You'll be able to write?

Sure, Mother, sure.
Every three weeks, like I always have.

Every two, dear.

Well, I'll try for two till we cross over,
then I may be a bit busy.

I'll be able to send
the cookies and things?

While you're in England, I mean.

Well, we'll be moving about
quite a bit.

Oh, I dare say
they could forward them, dear.

Yes, sure.

(SINGING)
♪ Mon petit Gene a trots maisons ♪

♪ Qui n'ont ni poutres, ni chevrons ♪

-I can't wait.
-Surprise, surprise!

Remember, I once timed it
when she made me meringues.

It took twenty-four seconds.

Sing the last bit, Louise.
That only takes five.

(CONTINUES SINGING)
♪ Ah! Ah! Ah, oui, vraiment ♪

♪ Mon petit Gene est bon enfant ♪

It's quiche Lorraine,
and in Boston!

I hope that very soon,
you will be eating one in Paris.

We'll drink to that.

To Paris!

Via London.

OFFICER:
Well, what's it feel like

being a civilian, Mr Summers?

Not too good, sir.

Kind of de-glamoured, huh?

-Yeah, I guess so.
-Well, you'll get used to it.

That's one of the reasons we wanted you
to wear these clothes now,

even before you started training.

And... also it'll make them look less new.

Here, stand up here in the light,
will you, please? Let me have a...

A-ha!

Yes...

You know, these are made
right here in London,

but they're French.

Right down to the last button!

There's one thing our tailor
couldn't give them, and that's age!

Well, you've got about a month
to do that in.

-You'd better eat a lot of soup.
-Yes, sir.

Ah, that's another thing.

Now that you're a civilian,
drop the "sir".

I want you to get out of the habit of it.
My name is Mac.

-And, mine's Gene.
-No, it isn't.

Not anymore.
It's Jean.

That's another thing
you've gotta get used to, like the clothes.

From now on your name is Jean,
Jean Doumier. Write it down.

Doumier. D-O-U-M-I-E-R.

Hmm, yes.

Now again,
like you were signing it, please.

Yes, get comfortable.

Mmm...

You don't need much practice!

Where did you learn French copperplate?
At the lycée?

Partly, and partly
from an old French nursemaid.

Well, uh-huh.
In that case...

Here, sign right here.

-Is this from Washington?
-Yeah.

It came over with you
on the plane.

No, wait, not with that pen.
Here.

This has got a proper nib.
French ink.

I think we'll photograph you
after your hair's... grown a little longer.

Uh-huh! There.

Now, that's the way
you'll always sign.

All right?

Who are you?

Jean Doumier.

Good.

I'll tell you more about yourself
after you get settled down in school.

-School?
-Oh, yes.

See my Sergeant at the end
of the corridor down here.

He's already arranged transportation
for you over to Station 31.

That's where you're gonna be trained.
It's run by the British. Okay?

Okay, sir.

Okay what?

Okay, Mac!

Jean?

Jean, come and kill me!

Go on, now.

Thank you.
That was a beautiful death.

Well, by now you'll have realised
that this particular series of lectures

is designed to show
that an agent's behaviour

should never be conspicuous.

And the same thing
applies to passwords.

Passwords are used as an additional
recognition check between two contacts

who may have been described
to each other,

but who have never actually met.

They must be, one,
conversational and not dramatic.

I mean... if you go up to a fellow
who you think is your contact

and say... "The black panther
rides again tonight",

and he turns out to be a member
of the Gestapo in civvies,

well...

(ALL LAUGHING)

This is what I call
my tunnel of love.

It contains six Germans

and you have exactly
six rounds in your revolver.

Now, don't waste them
on the first one you see,

or there'll be that more
many Germans to shoot at you

after you've run out of ammunition.

All right. In you go.

Now, Jean...

Shh!

They're not expecting you to tea.

The first thing you must remember
if you want to kill someone

is to begin quietly.

All right now. Start again.

That's better.

(FRONT DOOR CLOSING)

Good.

They've heard you now.
Go on.

(CLATTERING)

(RATTLING)

Well done. Carry on.

(TUTTING)

Now, in there.

Break it down!

Go on, quick!

(GUN CLICKING)

And now what do you propose to do?

Spit in his eye?

This afternoon you're going on your first
subversive exercise, in Bournemouth.

You'll work as a pair.

And you'll plan
a joint cover story

to conceal the nature
of your clandestine activities,

in case you're interrogated,
as I've warned you, you may be,

any time after the exercise.

-Is that clear?
-Yes.

And that cover story,
if you remember your lectures,

should be as near the actual truth
as security allows.

And, er... how long did you
and Nils follow this first girl?

-About twenty minutes I guess, sir.
-Uh-huh.

What was she wearing?

I can't really remember.

Oh, come now.
You followed her for twenty minutes

and you can't really remember
what she was wearing?

I assume she was wearing clothes?

-Yes, sir.
-What sort of clothes?

-Well, a coat.
-Oh, a coat. An overcoat?

Yes, sir.
It's been a cold day.

Yes, so it has.
And it's going to be a cold night.

Now then,
what colour was this overcoat?

I can't remember, sir.

Well, shall we try putting our hands
above our head until we do remember?

Higher.

Thank you.

(FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING)

Hi, Mac!

Keep your hands above your head.

What colour was this overcoat?

The overcoat on this girl you and Nils
said you followed for twenty minutes.

A sort of... blue.

MAC:
What sort of blue?

Light or dark?

-Medium.
-Her hat?

(SHOUTING)
Come on! Her hat!

She wasn't wearing a hat, sir.

Medium blue overcoat.

No hat.

Nils said this first girl you followed
was wearing a red beret.

A raincoat.
Which of you is lying?

You can't both be telling the truth,
you know.

MAC:
Come on, come on! Which of you is lying?

(SHOUTING)
Keep your hands above your head!

Nils said this girl had a little dog.

Did you see a little dog?

-GENE: Yes, sir.
-Oh, you did, did you?

Come on! Did ya?

Yes, sir.

Mmm... I find I'm wrong.

Nils said nothing about a little dog.

Nothing.

But you saw a little dog, huh?

Why didn't Nils?

(SHOUTING)
Come on!

Why didn't Nils notice the little dog?

I guess he was just looking at the girl, sir.
I guess Nils...

Oh, you guess! You guess!

I'm not interested
in what you guess,

I'm interested in what you know!
Now, what do you know?

-We were following this girl...
-Oh.

In no hat, a red beret,
a raincoat, a medium blue overcoat,

with and without a little dog.

We were following this girl.

Put your hands above your head!

Get out.

(CLOCK CHIMING)

MAC:
Jean.

Jean.

Here, take it.

You'd better put it on.

Like you said, it's been a cold day.

-I flunked, didn't I?
-Yeah, you flunked all right.

Well, I never know anybody
who didn't on his first interrogation.

This was typical.

Typical first interrogation.

So, for Pete's sake,
don't get discouraged.

You've learned enough lessons
to make it a lot harder for us next time.

The thing was you...

You should've stuck closer
to the truth in your cover story.

I mean, why bring in girls?

You could've walked.
People do, you know.

We just tried to bully you
into making it sound ridiculous,

but it's not ridiculous.

As long as you and Nils
could've agreed on one or two things

you might have talked about
while you were walking.

Oh, and slow down your tempo.

You know, if you answer some things fast
and other things slow,

they're gonna know
when you're lying.

Answer everything slow.

And...

never, never trust a kind face
when you've met its owner only once, huh?

Okay.

Although your own face is beginning
to look like it didn't belong to you.

-Where's your room?
-It's over there.

You'd better get some sleep.

You got an even tougher interrogation
coming up in the morning.

-What about?
-About you, Jean Doumier.

I'm gonna tell you
all about yourself.

Who your parents were,
where you were born,

where you went to school, the works!
Is this it?

-Yeah.
-(SHOUTING) Then get into it!

-Good night, Jean.
-Night, Mac.

So much for you,
now you know all about yourself.

Monsieur Jean Doumier.

Now, for your target.

Here he is.

MAC:
His name's Lafitte. Marcel Lafitte.

Marcel Lafitte.

Hmm, he looks like a real rat.

Well, would it matter if he didn't?

Oh, Mac, what sort of a heel
do you think I am?

This is a guy I gotta Kill
on account of he's a traitor,

and I'll kill him if he looks
like George Washington.

What's he do for a living
aside from informing on his friends?

Well, he's what they call a huissier,
a process server,

delivers writs and...

probably does a bit of small-time
legal work on the side.

Where does he work?

He has an office in the Avenue du Maine
in the fourteenth arrondissement.

Here. But he lives
in a little cul-de-sac,

right up here
off the Rue de la Gaité.

Oh, je me rappelle.
I know that district.

I used to be taken
to see plays there.

-Yeah?
-You know, matinées for kids.

-What's the cul-de-sac called?
-The Impasse de la Gaité.

Gaité's dead-end.
That's kind of appropriate.

Yes, it's more appropriate than you think.
It ends in a cemetery.

Yes, so it does.
The Cimetière du Montparnasse.

My nurse used to walk me back
through it after the theatre.

-Yeah?
-You know...

I liked the cemetery better than the theatre.
I don't know, it was...

Sort of more adult.

What's the number of the house?

Er... number three.
It's right next door to the cemetery.

(HUMMING "CADET ROUSSELLE")

-That's funny.
-What's funny?

♪ Monsieur Lafitte's at number three ♪

♪ Right next door to the cemetery ♪

You're a lyric writer, huh?
What's the music?

It's a sort of French rhyme
called "Cadet Rousselle".

My nurse used to sing it to me whenever
she gave me something special to eat.

You know, I can sing it
to Monsieur Lafitte when I...

Yeah?

You know, er...

you could do a lot worse
than to compose yourself a set of lyrics

around the house numbers
and the names I have to give you,

and then sing them to yourself
till you remember them.

Mac, I thought I only had to kill a guy,
now I gotta write poetry!

♪ Monsieur Lafitte, I must explain ♪

♪ Works on the Avenue du Maine ♪

♪ And every day he likes to go ♪

♪ And lunch at the Café Bertolo ♪

♪ Monsieur Lafitte's at number three ♪

♪ Right next door to the cemetery ♪

♪ Impasse de la Gaité ♪

♪ He will be dead at the end of the day ♪

-How's that?
-Oh, that's good. That's...

Now, wait a minute,
you forgot his office number.

-Ah! 304.
-Yeah.

♪ Coming to number 304 ♪

♪ Monsieur Lafitte walks up one floor ♪

♪ Crick, crack, short and sweet ♪

♪ That is the end of Monsieur Lafitte ♪

He'll be able to hear you.

Now look, don't sing him your lyrics.

He knows what you've got to do,
but he doesn't know where, nor to whom.

His job is to suggest how.

-Hiya, Commander!
-Hello!

Come aboard.

Do come in.

I'm sure you'd like a cup of tea.

-Yes, yes. Thank you.
-Pray be seated.

Oh, excuse me.
Just one moment.

So sorry.
I should have warned you.

I've just been doing a little research.

Jean, you will find some sugar in a tin,
up there on the chimney piece.

No, not that one.
That's gunpowder. The other one.

I'm afraid it's only tinned.

Now, your problem, as I understand
from Major MacMahon,

is to dispose of an elderly adversary.

-Sugar?
-Er... No, thank you.

Help yourself.

An elderly adversary, who will probably,
but not certainly be unarmed.

Perhaps in his office.

Now, an office presupposes a desk,

and, in the ordinary course of events,

you'd be talking to him
from the other side of it.

Now, he's no good at all
unless you can shoot him.

-Can he shoot him?
-Oh, most certainly not!

He's gotta be able
to stand a search.

Besides that, shooting's too noisy.

I quite agree.

So that limits us in two ways.

One, he must be killed
with an innocent weapon,

or with the bare hands.

And two, if he's seated at his desk,
he must be killed from behind.

Like you've been reading
over his shoulder or something?

Precisely. Come and do it.

Try a Japanese stranglehold.

No! You see, it won't work.

If I'm leaning forward,
I tuck my chin in and protect my throat.

But if I sit back momentarily...

(GROANING)

Well, that'd do.

Provided he leant back far enough
and you were sufficiently under control

to be as quick off the mark
as you were then.

Well, couldn't I maybe just strangle him
with my thumbs, like this?

Well, you could try, but I've found
it takes absolutely hours.

Now, let's talk
about innocent weapons.

Take knives for instance.
Innocent knives.

Boy Scouts' knives.

'H' Section can easily fit him up
with a French model,

for your good deed.

We want to kill him
quickly and keenly.

We can't just shove that
in any old where.

We have to use it surgically.
You will have to stun him first.

What are we going to use for that?

Oh, how dense of me,
I know the very thing.

-A pair of socks.
-Socks?

COMMANDER:
Just exactly that. Socks.

Go outside and find me a stone
about the size of a goose egg.

Mother's work basket.

Here they are, just the job.

Will one of these do?

Yes, we'll have that one.

Come along, Santa Claus,
pop it in there.

Now, hold that
and pull the second one over it.

Dear me!

I keep forgetting that table belongs
to Combined Operations.

Of course, if you use this with confidence
you will do more than stun him,

you'll crack his skull as neatly
as a chef cracks eggs.

By the way,
don't forget to put the stone in it,

otherwise it's not awfully effective

and you're left with a pair
of rather dirty socks.

They're bound to be a bit dirty afterwards,
to take to the laundry.

But the whole contraption
fits neatly and inconspicuously

in your raincoat pocket.

Of course, if you do only stun him,

you've then got to finish him off
with your Boy Scout knife.

Now, open your shirt.

Where do you keep your heart?

-Here, I guess.
-Then you're a grotesque.

Put your finger halfway

between your left nipple
and the base of your sternum.

My what?

Your sternum, boy.
Your breast bone.

Now move it up an inch.

What do you feel?

A rib.

Thank heavens for that,
you are normal.

Now, just above your finger
you'll find the space

between that rib
and the one above. Got it?

-Mm-hmm.
-Right.

That's where your heart is
and that's where you puncture him.

It's a pity we can't use
a knitting needle,

then he wouldn't bleed at all.

I suppose you can't make it plausible
for Jean to carry a knitting needle?

I'm sorry.

Well, there it is.
When do we start practising?

Well, not now, we can't, sir.

I've only got four minutes
to get to a lecture on the conditions in...

On the conditions in the French city
I'm going to.

All right.
Run along, Mr Security 1944.

-I'll see you after supper.
-GENE: Okay.

Thanks, Commander, it was swell.

I'm worried!

Yes?

This whole business to him
is nothing more than...

Well, you just heard him.
"Thanks, Commander, it was swell."

You know... except for one moment
in his first interrogation,

I don't believe he's ever stopped to think
what it's really gonna be like over there.

He's play-acting,

and he's loving it.

-Commander?
-Yes?

I know this is none of my business,
and I may be sticking my neck out,

but don't you think that,
in this particular case,

it might be better
if you didn't encourage him

to love it quite so much?

I mean, hasn't somebody got to tell him
that killing a man is not a game?

-Have you thought about that?
-Yes.

Very often.

But should Jean?

Shouldn't he?

You know, the odd thing about war
is that as we grow more civilised,

so does our way of killing.

No, I mean that.
When we were still savages,

we didn't feel guilty
about killing a man with our bare hands.

But we do now.

You can almost measure
our sense of guilt with a range-finder.

Major, I wish I were
training pilots to drop bombs,

because my job here
is harder.

I've got to stop civilised men

from thinking about the reality
of killing a fellow human being

with their bare hands,

because if they thought about it
they might never do it.

But they've got to do it,
just as Jean's got to do it,

so what can I do?

I can turn the act of Killing into a cross
between a game and a drill.

And I can drill them,
and drill them, and drill them,

until it becomes automatic.

Did you see Jean
get that stranglehold on me just now

while I was sitting at the desk?

He wasn't thinking of the way my eyes
would pop out of my head.

If he had, he'd have muffed it.

It was a conditioned reflex,
and that's the way I hope he behaves

when he comes to do the real job.

I don't mind
if he's sick afterwards.

I'm only concerned
that he isn't sick before.

(AEROPLANE ENGINE STARTING)

Good evening.
Can I take your coat?

Met report's good, sir.
Take-off is in about fifteen minutes.

-(TELEPHONE RINGING)
-MAC: Hi, Pat.

Come into our first class
waiting room.

Will you ring
when you've searched him?

Yes, thank you.

(SIGHING)

Gosh, I feel good.

Where'd the British Army cooks
learn to fry chicken Southern style?

We let 'em steal the plans
from our Embassy.

The wine wasn't even Algerian.
Clos Vougeot.

I feel like a fattened turkey.

Hmm... All right, Turkey.
Gobble your piece.

-What? Again?
-Yes, again.

I wanna make sure you still remember
when you are full of Burgundy.

(SIGHING)

Francois, from the Reception Committee
takes me to Paris tomorrow afternoon.

He leaves me
at the Censier-Daubenton Métro.

I go north for two blocks,
then I turn east along the Rue Guermants.

At number seven Rue Guermants
lives Léonie, my favourite aunt.

I go up the stairs
and I knock on the door,

and when she opens it,
I say, "Aunt Léonie", I say...

-In French, I hope!
-Don't interrupt, I'm in the groove.

"Aunt Léonie," I say,
"it's your favourite nephew."

And she says,
"Jean, I wouldn't have known you."

Pause...
And then, "It must be six years."

Then I give her the money
and the radio crystals,

and she gives me some more clothes
and a place to live. Okay?

Okay, okay.

-Now, you got the money belt, uh?
-Yes.

Don't forget to take the crystals
outta your flying suit when you land.

-I won't.
-Let's search the pockets.

Now, according to the lecturers,
they're supposed to be full

of London bus tickets,
Virginia tobacco shreds

and English grass seeds
in the cuffs of my pants.

Not a single English grass seed.

All right, now the pockets.

(HUMMING "CADET ROUSSELLE")

No laundry marks.

Small currency.

Matches.

Your identity card. Calendar.

More currency.

Postcard from Brazzaville
where you were...

Born in 1922, but came to France
on the death of my parents at the age of five.

-And I've lived there ever since.
-Okay, okay.

Your handkerchief.

Your currency.

Your matches.

Your pen.

Your...

Your knife.

Postcard, identity card,
calendar and more small currency.

-Hey!
-What?

Have you got the letters
to my mother?

Yes, all six of 'em.

That's enough for three months
if I mail one every two weeks.

But you're gonna be back
long before then.

-Ready, sir?
-MAC: Yes, thank you.

Pat!

Your raincoat.

Er... Pockets!

It's been checked.

Your suit.

Hmm... Like old times, eh?

What does it feel like
having your glamour back?

GENE:
Great!

Boots.

Crystal.

Zip her up tight in there.
Don't lose her.

-No revolver?
-No revolver.

Here's your 'chute.

-Now, will it open?
-I packed it myself.

Any more for the skylark?

-All ready, sir.
-All right, yeah!

This way, Jean.

Au revoir and very, very good luck.

And from me. It will open.

Au revoir, Jean.

Erm...

-Remember me to Aunt Léonie.
- I will.

Au revoir, François, and thank you
a thousand times for everything.

Ah, it's nothing.

And now you're on your own.

(BELL RINGING)

I'm sorry, Monsieur.
We're already closed.

Aunt Léonie!

It's your favourite nephew.

Jean, I wouldn't have known you.

It must be six years.

Come in!

I'm sorry. Monsieur, Madame,
my nephew.

Come along, Jean.

Make yourself at home.

Now, if Madame would like to call
any time tomorrow evening,

I'll make the trifling alterations.

Would Monsieur like to settle now?

Yes.
You said 4,000 francs?

-No, Monsieur, six.
-Ah, non!

I'll give you five and... this.

Monsieur is very kind.

-Good night.
-Good night.

Take off your coat.

I should be putting this in the till,
it's rarer than money.

What is it?

Soap!

Oh, that reminds me.

Ah, yes.
This is my money, this is ours.

Oh, give me the money belt,
it's not a good thing to be found wearing.

-It's got the radio crystals.
-Ah, yes!

Now...

Your ration book
and clothing coupons.

Your food cards for restaurants,
meat, cheese, fats, bread.

And your union card.

-You know you're an electrical mechanic?
-Yes, but where?

At Lessier's.
In Rue Froidevaux in Montparnasse.

They're contracted to do work
for the government and the Germans.

Otherwise a boy of your age
wouldn't be allowed to work for them.

You'd be packed off
to do forced labour in Germany.

They're here.

Mm-hmm.

You're already on their books,
but you should report there tomorrow,

just once, so the foreman
can describe you

and you can describe the foreman
in case either of you is ever questioned.

After that you needn't bother to report
there often except to arrange cover.

You're supposed to do outside jobs.

Now, let me see your identity card.

Good, they're improving.

You'll need another when you've done
whatever you've come to do.

In a different name, of course,
in case there's a search.

You'll destroy this card

and use the second one
on the escape route back to England.

And I get into touch
with the escape route through you?

Only through me.

Tonight you'll spend the night here.

But I've found a room for you
near Lessier's

in the Rue de L'Abbé St Georges.
Just there, you can move in tomorrow.

You'll find some things there,
overall, underclothes, shirt, tool kit.

-What happened to this button?
-Happened?

Oh, I remember!
It came loose at the school.

-Somebody sewed it on there.
-Yes, somebody British.

We don't sew them on like that
in France.

Now, a toothbrush?

-Hmm, you can buy that.
-A razor?

Yes, a razor.

-And socks?
-With coupons.

-Long ones?
-Why?

It's most important
for my mission.

I'll arrange it.

-You're not even curious, are you?
-I'm never curious.

What you're doing here
is your own business.

I don't know anything about it
and I don't want to.

One day they may catch me
and then...

There, now you're a real Frenchman.

Why are you doing all this?

Doing what?

All this... work.

What a silly question.
Why do people do things?

Love, hate, greed.

Sometimes even for their own country.

That's not what I asked.
Why do you do it?

Sorry, I shouldn't have asked that.

You hungry?

(WHISTLING)

Hide this one
until you've finished the job.

When will that be?
Tomorrow? The day after?

Why, I don't know yet.

Well, telephone me
as soon as you do.

Say "the job's finished"
and we'll arrange a rendezvous.

Right.

Yes, well, don't blame me,
blame the acorns.

(LAUGHING)
You'll get used to them.

Now, before you go, I want to see
if you remember last night's lesson.

-If you wish to meet me?
-I telephone first.

-My number?
-Guermants 6493.

-You hear my voice, give this number.
-And only your voice.

-That's right, only my voice.
-I say, "Aunt Léonie."

-I say, "Hello."
-That's the danger signal and I ring off.

And the safety signal?

You say, "Is that you, Raoul?"
We talk.

And when we talk?

If it's necessary to speak of my mission,
I refer to it as "the job".

"I'm still looking for a job."

"I've found a job."
"I've finished the job."

Who are you?

Jean Doumier.
Electrical mechanic at Lessier's.

-What are you doing in the street?
-Outside work, house-to-house repairs.

-Where do you live?
-Number nine, Rue de L'Abbé St Georges.

What's the name of your landlady?

Madame Godinot?

Yes, Monsieur Doumier?

-I'll just put these away.
-Oh, thank you.

I'm going out now
and I probably shan't be back till late.

Is Monsieur happy with the room?

Yes, thank you, very happy.

GENE:
♪ Monsieur Lafitte, I must explain

♪ Works on the Avenue du Maine ♪

♪ Coming to number 304 ♪

♪ Monsieur Lafitte walks up one floor ♪

(INDISTINCT CHATTERING)

Monsieur?

-Coffee, Madame, please.
-Yes, Monsieur.

-COSTUMER #1: Louis!
-LOUIS: Coming!

My bill, please.

Certainly, Monsieur Colet.

COSTUMER #2:
Louis!

One moment, Monsieur Lafitte.

Thank you.

Madame.

Thank you, Monsieur.

(INDISTINCT CHATTERING)

Here you are, sir.
Special today, rabbit stew.

LAFITTE:
Good morning, Louis!

Good morning, Monsieur Lafitte.
I've saved you a portion of rabbit stew.

Rabbit stew? Oh, no!

-Monsieur said yesterday...
-No, no, no.

You didn't tell me yesterday
it was rabbit stew.

You bring me the cabbage soup
and some cheese.

Meow!

Monsieur?

(WHISPERING)
Meow.

- I do hope not.
-You see, I like cats.

Yes, so do I.

-It tasted like rabbit.
-And conceivably it was rabbit.

After all, grass is still cheap,
rabbits aren't extinct,

whereas cats are almost.

Nobody can afford
to feed them anymore.

Well, don't look so down-hearted.

-The chances are on your side.
-(DOOR CLOSING)

(ROOM FALLS SILENT)

He's a new arrival.

Looks like it.

Nowadays they send nothing
but old men and little boys.

Ah, thank you, Louis.

Time I was getting back to mending fuses.
My bill, please, Louis.

Oh, no, Louis, don't.

I'm afraid my little joke
about the rabbit stew spoilt your dinner.

Be my guest.

No, I couldn't.

Please.

I insist!

My name's Lafitte.

Doumier.

(FLOORBOARDS CREAKING)

(HUMMING "CADET ROUSSELLE")

(CONTINUES HUMMING)

-Monsieur Lafitte.
-Looking for rabbits?

Forgive me for saying so,
young man,

I have reason to know that the police
are going to be active in this area

within the next few minutes.

What are they looking for?

Somebody who killed a German officer
in the Rue Froidevaux two nights ago.

He's supposed to be hiding
in this district.

Well, I don't suppose you did it
for a moment.

But even innocent young loiterers

who have the disadvantage
of being able-bodied,

run the risk of being picked up
and sent to work in Germany.

They may well need
electrical mechanics.

Where do you live?

On the far side of the cemetery.

It's too far.

-Come to my office.
-I can't do that.

Everybody will have gone home.
It's quite safe, the place is quite empty.

I'll have to lock you in, of course.

I'll let you out at half-past eight
in the morning, I promise.

If the telephone rings,
don't answer it.

There's no reason
why it should be answered,

I'm always home by six o'clock.

And if anyone knocks,
don't answer that either.

There's drinking water
in a cup in there.

-Have you had your dinner yet?
-No.

Oh.

It's not a cat, it's only bread.

No, I can't.

Please take it, I shall be dining at home
with my wife and daughter.

And take my coat too,
you can use it as a blanket.

-Look, really, Mr Lafitte...
-Please.

I've such a little way to go
and it's quite warm for the time of the year.

Don't switch on the light
when it gets dark,

there's no proper black out.

I'll be back at half-past eight
in the morning.

Oh, my key, thank you.

-Good night.
-Good night.

(VEHICLES REVVING)

(FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING)

(DOOR RATTLING)

(OFFICER SHOUTING IN GERMAN)

(FOOTSTEPS RECEDING)

(DOOR SLAMMING)

(CLATTERING)

(CAT MEOWING)

Don't go near the Café Bertolo.

(CAT PURRING)

Think yourself lucky you're only hungry,
you don't even deserve to be alive.

The question is, does your master?

(RUNNING OUTSIDE)

(WHISTLE BLOWING)

(OFFICER SHOUTING IN GERMAN)

(GUNSHOT)

(VEHICLE REVVING)

Does he?

(FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING)

-Ah, good morning.
-Good morning.

I hope the raid didn't disturb you.

They went away very quietly.

Yes... so did the men they took.
Except one.

(CAT MEOWING)

Ah, good morning, Minou.

I see you've discovered
my guilty secret.

Ah, well, I knew it was safe
in your hands.

She wants her breakfast.

Here we are, come on.

Come on, Minou. Come on.
Yes, there we are.

There you are, Minou.
That's right, eat it up.

That's right.

You know,
I think I'll reclaim my overcoat.

-It's much colder today.
-Of course.

Thank you. It's very undignified
having to work in one's overcoat.

But how else can one keep warm?

(MINOU MEOWING)

No, no, no, Minou.

No more till tomorrow.

(LAFITTE HUMMING)

Oh, well, come on,
there we are.

She really is a guilty secret.

We're not supposed to keep animals
in this building, even in peacetime.

But I had to bring her here because my wife,
bless her dear, thrifty heart,

said we couldn't afford to feed her
any more and I must get rid of her.

"Get rid of her"?
How does one get rid of a little cat?

Sell her for fifty francs
to the Café Bertolo?

Throw her into the Seine?

Strangle her?

It's all very well to talk about it,
Monsieur Doumier,

but you can't just strangle
a little cat, now can you?

(LOUD PURRING)

No.

(DIALLING TONE)

LÉONIE:
This is Guermants 6493.

Aunt Léonie?

-Is that you, Raoul?
-Yes.

Have you finished the job?

No. May I come and see you?

Very well.
Come at seven.

-At seven? Couldn't I come...
-At seven.

(LÉONIE HANGING UP)

GENE:
I might have done it then

when I was helping him on
with his coat,

or even when he stooped down
to stroke the cat.

But of course, I didn't.

I couldn't.

You see,
I'm not convinced that he's guilty.

-(SEWING STOPS)
(SOFTLY) Ahh...

I'm not convinced that he's guilty
and I can't kill an innocent man.

Now, I think he may be innocent
for four reasons.

One, he warned me against
the Montparnasse raid

and probably saved me from being
carried off to do forced labour in Germany.

A collaborator wouldn't have done that.

Two, he let me spend the whole of the night
alone in his office

and I was able to go through all his papers.
I found nothing.

And three, from what I hear,

people denounce one another
for no better motive than greed,

or ambition, or sheer personal spite.

Well, you yourself said that people
did things for hate and greed.

And I think Lafitte may be a victim
of that sort of denunciation.

An innocent victim.

You said there were four reasons.

There are.

Only I've saved the fourth till last
because it's a sentimental one.

But you might understand it
because you're a woman.

I don't believe that anyone in Paris today
who can't bring himself to drown a cat,

or sell it for the pot,
or even let it starve,

could possibly send human beings
to the torture chamber or the firing squad.

That's all.

What exactly
do you want me to do?

I don't know. I only know...

Do you want me to organise
a court of inquiry

and investigate
Monsieur Lafitte's guilt?

No, but perhaps...

Do you want me
to send you back to England?

-I can easily do that, you know.
-No, of course not.

But perhaps we could radio
to our people in London

and have them re-examine
the whole affair,

and then if they still feel
that he's got to be killed, well...

I'll go ahead and do it.

Splendid.

(DOOR CLOSING)

(DOG BARKING)

(FOOTSTEPS RECEDING)

(VEHICLE LEAVING)

Sit down.

Sit down and listen to me,
you little fool.

How long have you been here?

-A week tomorrow.
-You're an optimist.

If you go on behaving like this,
there won't be any tomorrow.

You won't just be snivelling to me,
you'll be snivelling to the Gestapo.

Things must be very bad
when they send us a child to do a man's job.

Did they tell you
your mission here was secret?

Yes.

Then why have you broken every rule
of security by blabbing to me?

-Because I thought that...
-What did you think?

That he might be innocent!

Were you ordered to find out
whether he was innocent or guilty

before you killed him?

No.

Were you taught at school

that every time a radio operator
sends a message,

it makes it that much easier
for the Germans

to get a fix on his transmitter
and ferret him out?

-Yes.
-And torture him.

-Yes.
-And then kill him.

And yet after six days
in France,

you have the impertinence
to suggest that we fritter away

our precious time
on the air to London

by drafting and ciphering and transmitting
a personal message from you.

Asking your people
to disbelieve evidence,

which has been gathered against
Lafitte by real agents,

who've been working here
for years.

It's not your business
to sit in judgement on Lafitte.

It's your business to kill him.

Dozens of Frenchmen
have risked their lives

receiving and guiding
and hiding and clothing you,

only to have you go to pieces
because of a stinking cat,

which should have been carved up
and eaten months ago!

Himmler likes cats.

Goring likes pictures.
Hitler likes music.

Goebbels is a wonderful father.

What of it?

Did they order you to come to Paris,
Kill Lafitte and clear out?

Yes.

Then why don't you
obey orders and do it?

Just because you're wearing civilian clothes,
doesn't mean you aren't a soldier.

Just because you've never worn
a uniform...

I have worn a uniform!
I was a fighter bomber pilot

in the American Air Corps
and I flew fifty missions.

(WHISPERING)
How dare you tell me that?

You break security about your new job
through weakness,

and you break security about your old job
through vanity.

You baby!

Don't you realise you've just proved
yourself to be so weak

you've nothing left to be vain about?

He may still be innocent.

What if he is?

What if he is?
But that would be murder.

Murder?

But this is war... War.

And in a war the innocent
and the guilty get killed together.

When you were ordered
to drop bombs over France,

did you refuse because you might
have killed innocent Frenchmen?

Or women?
Or children like yourself?

Or cats?

Or are you
such a magnificent marksman

that you can press a button
and drop a bomb

that'll only kill Germans
and collaborators?

You didn't go whining back
to your superior officers

saying "I couldn't do it, there might been
a man in the marshalling yard

"who loved his mother."

Well, then why are you whining at me?
I'm not your mother.

I'm not anybody's mother.

Not anymore.

Oh, Jean...

This happens to all of us.
Sometimes early, sometimes late.

It's not so much the danger
of what we have to do,

but the loneliness
in which we have to do it.

Often quite easy jobs,
which we have to do secretly and alone,

are harder than difficult jobs,
which we can talk about to somebody else.

You've got the worst of both worlds.

Your job's difficult
and you've got to do it alone.

You can't talk about it.

You've got to forget
you've ever talked about it to me,

and if I'm caught,
well, I'll have to try and forget too.

Please, please remember
that loneliness is your worst enemy.

Remember that however great
your difficulties,

you must talk about them
only to God.

If you don't believe in God,
then to nobody.

Nobody.

That's why I shouted at you a little.
So you'd remember.

You didn't shout.
You were very quiet.

You'll have to learn
to be quieter than that.

You'll have to learn to be silent.

Yes.

You'll also have to learn
not to be deceived by appearances.

-Lafitte's appearance?
-Yes.

Were my reasons for his innocence
so very stupid?

No, they weren't stupid.

But you left out all the reasons
on the other side for his guilt.

What reasons?

He saved you from a police raid.
What if he did?

It didn't cost him anything
and it'd be a very good story to tell

if ever he was suspected
of collaboration by the Resistance.

But how did he know
there was going to be a police raid?

You found no incriminating documents
in his office.

Why should you?
He's worked for us since 1940.

Did you find any documents
about his dealings with the resistance?

Of course you didn't.

Anyway, he's not a key man.

According to you,
he's only in contact with key men.

He wouldn't have any documents.

He'd pass verbal messages on
from one key man to another,

and when it suited
his bank balance,

he'd sell the same messages
to the Gestapo.

You're still worried about the cat?

No.

Give me one or two more days,

then I'll ring up and say,
"Aunt Léonie, the job's done"

-and you can send me back to England.
-That's better.

Jean, we're all cowards
about something.

I am, when I think
about being caught and tortured.

Because I don't know
my own breaking point.

That was another reason
why I was angry just now.

I don't want to know one word
more than I need to,

because I don't want
to betray anybody.

Least of all you.

Why me?

You're not like the rest of us.

You still believe the best of people.

War hasn't corrupted you yet.

LAFITTE:
Ah, my young friend!

-What luck.
-Luck?

Is this a social visit,

or were you coming
to consult me professionally?

A social visit.
I was gonna return your hospitality

by asking you to have a drink
with me at the Bertolo.

Oh, thank you, thank you,
but I've got a much better idea.

You're going to have a drink
at my house.

Oh, no, Monsieur Lafitte,
that's not what I meant.

Well, it will be
when you've heard the news.

My wife has discovered about Minou.
She's under sentence of death.

Oh, not my wife!
The cat!

But you can save her.

Monsieur Doumier can save you, my dear.
Sit down.

Take that, would you?

(MINOU MEOWING)

I thought of it
the moment I saw you.

That's what comes
of having a legal mind.

You're a friend of mine,
and you have a friend in the country

who is plagued with mice and rats.

So tonight, in front of my wife,
you'll take Minou from me

and you give her
to your friend in the country.

But I have no friend
in the country.

Well, what difference does that make?

Well, it leaves me with a cat
and I don't want a cat.

Well, of course you don't want a cat.

Tomorrow morning
I have to be here at seven o'clock

to meet a client who is going
to pay me some money.

What could be simpler?

At half-past seven, you come here
with Minou in her little box

and you give her back to me.
See?

Then at lunchtime, we'll go
and spend some of my client's money

at the Café Bertolo.

It'll be in cash,
it's that sort of a business deal.

One has to live.

Well?

-Half-past seven tomorrow morning?
-Yes.

You're sure your client will have gone?

I mean, I'd look a bit of a fool
walking into your office

with a hungry cat meowing
through the holes of a cardboard box.

No, no, no.
He'll have gone by then.

I want him off the premises before
the concierge gets back from the bread line.

-All right, I'll do it.
-I knew you would!

Come, Minou.
The death sentence is suspended.

-I live at number three.
-Really?

After you. That's right.

Here we are.

I always give the V-sign.

-Papal
-Ah, Mauricette!

Oh, this is a friend of mine,
Monsieur Doumier.

In you go, my dear fellow,
in you go. That's right.

Have you brought me
a present, Papa?

No, my dear. That's a present
for Monsieur Doumier. It's Minou.

Oh, there you are.
May I present Monsieur Doumier?

Monsieur Doumier, my wife.

-Madame.
-Monsieur.

Monsieur Doumier has a friend
in the country whose farm

is absolutely infested
with rats and mice.

He's been trying
to find a cat for weeks.

He'd be very happy
to have Minou.

What does he offer?

Oh, my dear!

Monsieur Doumier
has been extraordinarily kind

in offering to deliver Minou
to his friend personally.

I brought him back to ask him
to take a little... apéritif.

Mauricette, show Monsieur Doumier
into the drawing room while I get the glasses

and give Minou some milk.
Water.

After you, dear.

MME LAFITTE: Why did you want
to bring that young man in for?

You've could give him
the wretched cat...

-Do you go to school, Mauricette?
-Yes.

-What subject do you like best?
-Dancing.

MME LAFITTE:
And drink our wine?

Before Christmas,
we danced the story of Cinderella.

Were you... Were you Cinderella?

No, I was one of her sisters.

Because of my glasses,
the Mother Superior said.

(ARGUING CONTINUES)

Do you like dancing?

-Yes.
-Shall I dance for you?

-That would be very nice.
-Would you like to sit down?

(CLASSICAL MUSIC PLAYING)

(BANGING)

(ARGUING CONTINUES)

(BANGING)

(DOOR CLOSING)

I'm sorry to have been so long.

I had a little difficulty
getting Minou back into her box.

I see Mauricette
has been entertaining you.

-(TURNING MUSIC OFF)
-Yes, very well.

My wife sends her apologies.
Fact is she's not feeling very well.

It's been a hard day at the shops,

and she's...
Well, something of an invalid.

-Your health.
-And yours.

Thank you, Monsieur Lafitte.
Thank you very much, Mauricette.

Oh, my dear fellow,
must you really be going?

-Yes, I'm afraid so.
-Oh...

I've got to report to my shop
and see what jobs there are for tomorrow.

Don't forget you're doing a job for me
in the morning.

(MINOU MEOWING)

Oh, wait a minute.
You've forgotten Minou.

Half-past seven.

(MINOU MEOWING)

LAFITTE:
Who's there?

Jean Doumier.

Oh, my dear fellow, I do apologise.
Come in.

Well, come in.

I was just counting
my ill-gotten gains.

Ah, Minou.

-(RAIN LASHING)
-Oh, dear, that window.

Tonight, I'm going
to surprise the family.

Meat. A chicken, a real rabbit.

I suppose you don't know anybody
who'll sell me a rabbit?

No, of course you don't.
Never mind, you can sell me a cat

for the price of a drink
at the Bertolo.

Scissors!

Come along, Minou.

Here we are. Now.
There we are. Hello there.

There's a good girl.
Come on.

Now, I've got a lovely
little present for you.

That's right.

(GROANING)

(MINOU MEOWING)

(GRUNTING FAINTLY)

Why?

(SCREAMING)

(CONTINUES SCREAMING)

(GENE SOBBING)

(SCISSORS CLATTERING)

-May-may I use your telephone?
-Oh, of course.

(DIALLING TONE)

LÉONIE:
This is Guermants 6493.

-Aunt Léonie?
-Hello, hello.

(HANGING UP)

LÉONIE ECHOING:
If I say hello, that's the danger signal.

(ENGAGED TONE)

(ENGAGED TONE)

(MUTED DIALOGUE)

-(LAFITTE SCREAMING)
-(METRO CARS RUMBLING)

(DIALLING TONE)

LÉONIE:
Get off the line! Keep away! Keep away!

(HANGING UP)

(AIR RAID SIRENS WAILING)

(WHISTLES BLOWING)

(SIRENS CONTINUE WAILING)

(WHISTLES CONTINUE BLOWING)

(PEN SCRATCHING PAPER)

Thanks, Major.

Gee, sir... I mean, Colonel.
I'm not used to it yet.

I'm not either,

and I'm still not used to working
in Washington through August.

It's like a steam laundry.

Do you know I've sweated
through two shirts this morning

and it's not even noon yet?

What a war!

I guess you won't have to be here
much longer, Colonel.

The news is good.
Patton's crossed the Seine at Mantes.

-Why, that old son of a gun!
-His right flank's at Fontainebleau.

A few more days and they think
Bradley will order Lerclerc's tanks

to move on Paris.

Eisenhower wants the French
to be first in.

Oh, for Pete's sake!
Where's my travelling orders?

I gotta be there.

What about Pierre?

Pierre was, er... arrested in February
and deported to Germany.

I've seen his wife and there is no news.
We'll just have to wait.

Dominic?

(CHUCKLING)

Dominic's still a little bit drunk.

Anything more about Léonie?

Tortured and shot.
End of April.

She didn't give anything away,

but she managed to leave
a message for Summers

just before the Gestapo came for her,
but... it was too late.

-How do you know?
-I saw him.

-Gene Summers?
-Yeah.

-He's alive?
-Yeah.

Well, I'll be...

Mac, notify the General, will ya?

-And his Mother, too, of course.
-Oh, I have.

Well... That's a real piece of luck.

(BELL RINGING)

I'm not so sure you'll think
it's a real piece of luck after you've seen him.

What's the matter with him?

Is he hurt?

Mentally.

An MP picked him up.

He was trying to steal
a bottle of brandy from a Jeep.

But he wasn't just pie-eyed,
he was soused, he was stewed in alcohol.

-Well, that's...
-No, no.

It seems that he hasn't drawn
a sober breath since he did the job.

-That was... That's a couple of months ago.
-Yeah...

You can thank the good Lord that he was
lying around in gutters

where nobody bothered
to pick him up.

You know, when he heard
the MPs talking English,

he gave his old Air Corps rank
and serial number

over and over and over again.

So they turned him over to the medics.

They got him out of there,
trying to pump the liquor out of his system.

-Where is he now?
-Base Hospital, St Cloud.

Yeah.

Have you told him we found out
Lafitte was innocent?

No.

That might finish him off all together.

Yeah, well... Take care of him, huh?

I think you ought to see him.

-Me?
-MAC: Yeah, you're his boss.

You recruited him.

I think maybe you might be able
to help him pull himself together.

So what do I tell him?

I don't know, you might tell him...

Tell him you think
he did a valuable job.

He might believe you.

(INAUDIBLE)

Hi, Gene.

Well!

Hi, Gene.

It's been quite a while
since we met, huh?

Me on one side of the desk
and you on the other.

-Remember?
-Mm-hmm.

I asked you to do a job, huh?

Well, you did it, Gene.
You did it fine.

We're real proud of ya.

-You're proud?
-Why, sure, proud.

It was a valuable job, well done.

Of course we know you...
You hit the bottle after you done it,

but... who doesn't, huh?

You probably did the same thing
after a bombing mission.

This was a little tougher
than a bombing mission,

so this time you hit it
good and hard. (CHUCKLING)

I'm glad we gave you enough dough
to celebrate with. (LAUGHING)

Look, what's it matter anyway, huh?

You're okay now, skip it.

No, you see, I hadn't any money.

When I killed him, I took his
to make it look like a robbery,

and I hid it in a grave.

Then one day, I went back
and I took one note out of the grave

because I needed a drink.

And in the end, I took it all.

Look...

When I hit him, he lay quite still.

I thought he was dead, but then...

he turned over,
he looked at me...

he said...

"Why?"

Could I have told him why, hmm?

KIMBALL:
Sure. You sure could've, Gene.

Now, look.

I don't know if it helps...

but we found out that Lafitte
was a worse traitor than we thought.

He'd penetrated our Paris circuit
about as deep as anyone could.

When you killed him, he could have
given away about twenty key agents.

If they'd have been caught
and tortured,

they each could have informed
against twenty more.

That's maybe 400 lives you saved.

Four hundred good lives
for one lousy one.

Each of those good lives

made it possible
to liberate Paris that much sooner

and save more lives still.

Why, I guess...

I guess you could chalk up
over a thousand lives you've saved.

Just for killing one man
when you did.

Does that answer your question?

Huh?

Yep.

Thanks, Major.

Colonel.

Sorry, sir. Congratulations.

Hell, I...

I feel as though
I ought to be congratulating you.

Mm-hmm...

Well...

I'd better be going.

Look, if you need anything,
just let Mac know, huh?

-All right.
-I'll see you, now.

I'll be back.

That ought to do the trick, huh?

-Don't you think?
-Oh, I hope so.

Well, let me know, huh?
I'll see ya.

Thank you for coming.

Mac, how much back pay
am I due for?

I don't know.

I could figure it out.

Well, could I have it all?
In cash.

In SHAEF currency, yeah?

Could you fix it for me to wear
an Air Corps uniform?

Why, I guess so.

He overplayed it, didn't he?

Overplayed?

Mac, I know Lafitte
wasn't as important as all that.

He was a small-timer,
he had about six contacts.

Look, Mac,
while Kimball was talking,

suddenly I understood something.

Léonie once said to me,

"In a war, innocent people and
guilty people get killed together."

I didn't refuse to drop my bombs,
did I,

just because they might kill
an innocent person?

I just obeyed orders
and dropped them.

What was so different
about obeying orders

and killing Lafitte with my hands,
even if he was innocent?

She was right.
There's no difference.

Only...

Only, when I dropped a bomb,
I wasn't down there

to hear somebody say, "Why?"

So you see, Mac, you don't have
to be afraid to tell me

if I've murdered an innocent man,
because that won't be the first time.

But this time I can be sure.

And if I'm sure, I can face it.

So Mac, you've got
to tell me the truth,

because I'm the guy
that's got to live with it.

Was he innocent, Mac?

Then I think I'll get up.

(CHILDREN PLAYING)

Hey, Monsieur!
Vous criez "Vive la liberation!”

Monsieur?

Good morning, Mauricette.

Monsieur Doumier!

But you're an American.

I know. Do you mind?

No, come in.

-Papa is dead.
- I know.

-He was taken very ill at the office.
-Yes, I know.

It's Maman I'd like to see,
is she at home?

Yes. Stay there.

Maman! Maman!

It's Papa's friend,
Monsieur Doumier.

He's an American.

-Monsieur Doumier? But...
-Yeah.

I'm afraid I haven't cleaned the drawing room.
What is it you want?

I want to speak about your husband.

About his work in the Resistance.

The Resistance?

No, of course, he never told you.

That's the hardest thing.

Not even to be able to tell
the people we love.

He was a brave
and important agent, Madame,

who did magnificent work
for American Intelligence, and for France.

You should be proud of him.

Proud?

We're so proud that...

we'd like to give you this.

Please don't you be too proud
to take it.

I know it won't make up
for his loss,

but it will show you
that we share it.

Goodbye, Madame.

Goodbye, Mauricette.

Monsieur Doumier!

Are you... Are you sure
that my husband...

-I mean, that he was...
-Quite sure.

He was a colleague of mine.