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The only way we'll know when and at what targets

the nuclear button will be pressed

is by electronic espionage.

That's what makes it so appalling that dodgson,

a self-confessed and convicted Soviet agent,

was able to hold a position of trust here for 10 years.

It must not happen again.

Each of you,

not only section heads,

but each and every one of you,

has simply got to report oddities of behavior

among your colleagues,

strange events or anything else that strikes you as out of the ordinary.

It's not only your jobs that are at risk,

it's the survival of the free world.

Did you spy for the Russians

for 10 years?

Yes.

Did you watch kiddie porn videos with Stephen kedge?

Yes.

Does the photograph that I've just shown you

contain Allen goodburn?

Yes.

Did you sometimes see him socially

with his wife, Cynthia?

Get this thing off me!

Mr. Dodgson,

you've already told me

this machine is no better

than a fortune-teller at the fair.

I mean, if it's junk,

what's your problem?

Are you anti-black,

or just anti-American?

A lot of people detest your country

and all it stands for.

In england, that's not yet a crime.

I think we have a problem.

Your trial was painful to us, dodgson.

We don't forgive you for making us look foolish

and for putting another wedge between us

and our good friends.

You're here to answer yes or no

to our friend's questions,

yes or no!

And get on with it.

We're gonna have to start all over again.

Sit real still.

Aah!

Keep your eyes on the board.

Your friend kedge fell under a train.

It looks as though they've taken the bait.

As soon as we're sure they've bitten on goodburn,

I'll let you know.

Take the pills that evening.

Check.

And mate.

Tickets, please.

Thank you, sir.

Cheltenham next stop, sir.

Thank you.

Any more tickets now, please.

The train on platform 2

is the 12:10 from London, Paddington.

This is cheltenham spa. Cheltenham spa.

Trains are leaving in 5 minutes, 12:15,

for gloucester, stroud, kemble,

and London, Paddington.

Dad?

Bob!

You shouldn't have bothered to come meet me.

When you braved British rail to get here?

I've got a present for you.

The, uh, bloke in the Russian bookshop

said it was a fair translation.

It's beautiful! Thanks.

How's business?

Struggling.

Yeah?

I've got a cab here.

By the way, there's someone coming

I particularly want you to meet.

A girl, eh?

It's about time.

Two of them, actually.

Two?

It has to do with security, darling,

positive vetting. Yeah, p.V.

P.v.? It sounds rude.

It's all in your mind.

No, no, she's quite right. It is rude.

And I speak as one who's being p.V.'D at the moment.

It's routine.

Known in the trade

as the quinquennial review.

Yeah, we are p.V.'D by I.S., Tiffany.

Now, an I.. Is not, as you may think,

an intelligence officer, still less an intelligent officer,

he's in fact an investigating officer.

You see, if something dodgy happens

like someone with the same name

turns up at a peace rally,

then our case is referred to an h.E.P.V.A.,

who is, in all his glory,

a higher executive officer

positive vetting... You're drunk!

Assessor.

How dare you say I'm drunk!

Should you be talking like this?

I mean, the official secrets act

and all that.

No, no, you're quite right, dad.

We should not.

It is after all a method devised

to enable people like dodgson to get away with it for years.

That's not quite fair. Dodgson was very clever.

This isn't the Soviet union.

Yeah, a timely reminder.

Right.

Oh, look! Isn't tiger beautiful?

Tiger?

Beautiful?

You know, that cat... He's abnormal.

He gets himself right down there

and he can't get himself back up again,

then he howls and he howls,

and who do you think the lucky citizen is

who has to get up at 4:00 in the morning to let him in?

Come on.

Come here, you little monster.

Just look at you.

Ah!

I sometimes think if I could assemble a cat-like ladder,

he could get his own way back.

It's nearly 30 feet.

I'm gonna phone for a taxi

to take me to the station.

We ought to wash up lunch.

Ok.

You, too, Mark.

Bossy cow.

Bob.

I told Allen.

How did he take it?

Terrible.

Oh, Bob, hold me.

Make it in about an hour, could you?

Fine. Thank you.

Second thoughts?

No, of course not.

I just wish we didn't have to hurt anyone else.

See you later.

Bob.

Do you fancy a walk?

Um, yeah, sure.

And then again, no.

No, sorry, I, um...

I want to have a word with you,

so let's go.

Oh, god.

I'm so clumsy, it's bloody ridiculous.

You intend to Chuck the job, that's it, isn't it?

Yeah.

Why?

Well, it's... it's a bit complicated.

Yes, I thought it would be.

Don't be so aggressive, clad.

It's not very helpful.

In an odd way, this dodgson business focused how I feel.

I wondered if you knew him

when I read about the trial.

You know, there are 7,000 of us

working at g.C.H.Q.

It's an industry, ordinary,

accepted.

I didn't even know dodgson by sight.

The net result is,

the business of informing on one another

has now become respectable.

All of us are encouraged to report anything

that strikes us odd about our colleagues.

I mean, can you imagine what it's like

to be at the mercy of a secret report,

you know, from someone you're...

Well, living with or working with?

Is that what's happening, Bob?

Someone informed on you?

You're being asked to resign?

No way.

I'm not being judged.

It's the other way round.

The security people had egg all over their faces.

For 10 years, he'd got away with it.

Then there are the lies.

They start the very first day.

Nobody's what they seem.

Nothing is what it's made out to be.

And you never realize until later,

years later, in my case,

that from the very first day,

the truth recedes.

Don't forget what they do in that department is necessary.

That's a fatal argument, dad.

It's common sense. What you need is a posting or a holiday.

Take one or the other. But for god's sake,

don't throw away 6 years of seniority.

There's more to life...

Listen! You bloody well listen to me.

When I came out after 12 years,

it was no joke making a living.

And it's taken me over 20 years since then to find my way.

And it's still very dodgy.

Cleverer men than me go bankrupt every day.

Times are bad and getting worse.

Let's face it, y-y-you're not a computer man,

or an engineer or a doctor.

You're a linguist! Who needs them?

Are we gonna have an argument?

I shouldn't be surprised.

Tea?

All right.

Go ahead. Open the door.

Ok.

Ta-da!

Oh!

Ta-da! Happy birthday.

Oh, that's really kind.

Oh, really. We couldn't do the honors with a cake without you.

No, of course not.

Right.

Look at that!

Now I blow them out?

Mm-hmm.

One, 2, 3...

Don't forget to wish.

No, I won't.

Is everything all right?

Yeah, sure.

Your room, Bob,

was even more of a tip than mine!

Would you like us to tidy it?

No. Not at any price.

I'd never find anything, would I? Hmm?

Now, I know it may look a bit chaotic, but...

It surely does.

But basically, it's very clean.

And it is his room.

Yes.

I'm sorry.

I didn't mean to, uh...

I'm going to watch television

with Mark and Rose.

All right.

Will that be ok?

Yeah.

Yeah, look, um...

Bribe 'em.

See you later. Goodbye.

Sit down, clad.

Is it all right?

Very nice.

Tea.

Thank you.

Listen...

It seems to me that

underneath ordinary life...

God. It's so hard to put this clearly.

Underneath the commonplace...

Um, buses in the street,

newspapers, cricket scofes,

paying the bloody mortgage...

Underneath all of that,

there is another,

an entirely secret world.

Now, the people who run it,

thousands of them,

appear to live in the light,

but they don't, and I don't.

You see, every day, or nearly every day,

I go to this place to translate

surprising, sometimes terrifying,

and occasionally appalling things.

Look“.

You know how much I... I love

the Russian language

and their literature.

Yes, I do.

Pushkin, for example.

Killed in a duel

provoked by his unfaithful wife.

Tolstoy, stinking rich,

and all that guilt.

Dostoevsky, missing the firing squad,

gambling like a maniac.

Chekhov, stanislavski.

You know?

You see, I have a...

A world inside my head,

a perspective of Russian life,

to set against

interminable telephone conversations

from...

Party officials.

You listen to telephone conversations

with Russian party officials?

Yeah. Out of the kremlin, even.

I don't care when the professional skeptics,

you know, the hard-boiled boys who run the world

talk casually of the bolshoi ballet

being a cultural weapon, which it is,

and feel nothing as they say it.

I feel something.

It hurts me personally.

If the bolshoi comes,

if I watch and listen to Romeo and Juliet,

I mean, the joy of it is poisoned

by the certainty that the k.G.B. Man

is sitting in the bloody prompt corner.

Their secret world

has put out the light of the ordinary world.

All the more reason to stick at what you're doing.

No.

I believe with all my heart

that our secret world

is on exactly the same tack as theirs.

Enough.

Self-righteous little prick.

Our best advice is that he's not a serious risk,

but naturally we'll keep him covered.

Bother! He's not back yet.

You go in, darling,

and I'll put the car away.

Oh, my god! Oh, god!

Oh, god! Allen! Allen!

Allen!

Allen, no!

It's dodgson, sir.

The duty officer didn't like the look of him.

Says he's hardly any pulse.

Warn hammersmith hospital to stand by in intensive care.

Ambulance? Car.

Quick. We could lose the bugger.

Bloody fool!

There, now, it's all right. Shh.

It'll be all right.

Shh. Now, listen... Listen to me.

I'll deal with the police.

You go look after Tiffany.

It'll be all right. Go on.

Now, either I'm mad,

or somebody killed Allen

and faked it to look like suicide.

Why on earth should they do that?

Well, he knew dodgson, right?

Just suppose

Allen was mixed up in what he was doing.

Hmm? The last thing the security people want

is another scandal.

Christ, Bob. You don't seriously think they'd go to those lengths?

I don't know.

I don't even know who to ask.

I thought you might have a bright idea.

Not off the top of my head.

I mean...

Let me think about it.

Fancy a beer?

Thanks,

but there's a panic on to calculate the track

of this new piece of space mongery the Russians just put up.

Well, some other time, then.

Sure.

Good morning! Good morning!

You have slept like a hero.

The woman will make you the bacon and eggs now.

Is it... morning, Alex?

It is Alex, isn't it?

Correct.

Ah, you remember my name!

Yes, it is morning.

To tell you the truth, it is afternoon.

There's something...

Familiar...

About this place.

It was here that you met your controller when he came over in '83.

That's right.

Do you remember?

We smuggled you in and out

in the bottom of the school bus.

Russian territory in england.

That appeals to me.

It is amusing, yes?

But you must on no account

touch the curtains.

Outside, the British are like crazy men

trying to find you

before the press learn of your escape.

When they do,

there will be the most enormous outcry.

We do not believe

that the British security services know

you came here before,

but we must assume

that they will have all our properties under surveillance

with long-lens cameras.

You must stay low.

This chap tried to recruit me.

I couldn't tell you before.

He used to be a proper tearaway,

ripping up the telephone directories,

taking the tops off bottles with his teeth.

Can't imagine what made him think

I could get into all that.

Anyway, he'll see you.

I've got his address in the car.

How are you? Fine. You?

Good morning. Is my guest here?

Ah, Mr. Greig. Your guest, Mr. Jones, yes. He's at the bar.

Frank!

At last!

Charlie. Charlie greig, as I live and breathe.

I couldn't believe it when you called.

What's your poison?

No, no, no, this is my treat. Harry pinker's?

What else, commander?

Same for me and make them large ones, will you?

Let's sit down over there.

Well, this is a turn up for the book.

It's been a few years.

Mm-hmm.

The only pilot who really enjoyed

the rocket take-off when the catapult failed.

We all said we did, but you meant it, you mad sod.

Well, we were younger in those days.

I seem to remember you blowing your commission,

in no uncertain terms,

taking a swing at that chief petty officer

because you thought he was a bully.

Well, he was, too.

C.p.o. Pratt.

Pratt by name, and prat by nature.

I know, I know. All the same,

I couldn't have spent my life's savings

on that kind of gesture.

Well, I wasn't into promotion like you were.

H.m.s. Hawk, white band round your cap.

Thank you.

No dipping your biscuits in your tea.

It was the only way a rating pilot

could crash the class barrier.

Well, as you said,

in those days, we were younger.

Thank you.

Just when we thought

we'd got civvy street squared away,

Kathy developed this lump.

Wasn't much to speak of.

Turned out to be cancer.

Dear old boy.

At least she went quickly.

There didn't seem to be much point in going on for a while.

Especially since my son

wasn't interested in the business.

That's right. Of course. You had a boy, didn't you?

Yeah, Bob. Apple of his mother's eye.

Mine, too, come to that.

You wouldn't want to share a cabin with him.

What? Untidy?

Shambolical.

What's he doing now?

He's a Russian language specialist at g.C.H.Q.

Bright boy, then.

A bit too bright for his own good.

More brains than sense, you know what I mean?

No, well that... that's not quite fair, but...

I went down there the other day for his birthday.

And number one,

he's got himself mixed up

with a married woman with a kid.

And on top of that, he's talking about leaving the job.

He's got it in his head that what the Russians are doing

in that line of country

is not a lot different from what we do.

Student talk.

He's 28.

Well, it's just the time

for, um,

pulling the old man's beard.

I... I was surprised.

I mean, he shouted the odds from time to time,

we all did, but...

He went for the quiet life at the end of the Clay.

He'd run a mile rather than risk trouble.

Not like you, then?

No.

Takes after his mother, thank god.

Well, that's nice.

What about you?

Don't tell me that none of those eager wrens

ever managed to drag you to the altar?

You know what they say, "safety in numbers."

The last time I'd heard of you,

you'd joined the cloak-and-dagger brigade.

Still at it, are you?

Retired. Insofar as they ever let you retire.

Still, they've set me up with a nice little sideline,

vetting firms to make sure they're kosher.

Which, not to beat about the bush,

is why I'm here.

A little bird told me that you've been supplying

some fair-sized outlets lately.

Satisfied customers, one and all.

Now, there's a government department,

no names, no pack drill,

on the brink of elbowing their quill pens

in favor of word processors.

It's not a contemptible contract, so, um,

always provided your beamish boy

isn't seriously intent on upsetting the apple cart...

Thank you.

It's yours.

I'm sorry.

What?

This just feels all wrong.

Well, you wouldn't let me come to your place.

Would you, Bob?

Because if I'm not under surveillance, I bloody well should be.

It's not funny.

I'm not laughing at you.

It's just the thought of some s.A.S. Type

trying to recruit Mark.

Yes.

It's a pretty bizarre idea, isn't it?

Rose, well...

Oh, yes, Rose. I can just see her laying someone out

with her handbag.

Do you really have to go and see

that man Mark put you on to?

Yes, I do.

It's not just gonna go away, you know.

Hello, meruth.

Hello, sir.

Hello.

Is it wise to smoke on top of all that Brandy?

You think I've been on the town with the lads, right?

Dead right.

Well, in fact, thanks to my service connections,

and a willingness to risk liver and lungs,

we are in the running for a government contract.

That's fantastic, frank.

Yes, and if we get it right this time,

there's plenty more where they came from.

Any messages?

The bank.

Well, on the strength of this, I can face even them.

Oh, Bob called. Could you phone him?

Something about meeting him in gloucester.

Gloucester?

I'm sorry to drag you all this way, dad,

but I think I'm getting close to something

that makes my original misgivings about g.C.H.Q.

Seem like pleasant dreams.

Now, look, to understand this, you've got to remember

what the American secret world's been doing for years.

And I don't just mean in the way of secret ways,

secret cou ps,

but in burglary, bribery, blackmail,

drug trafficking all over the world.

And yeah, plain, old-fashioned murder.

Watergate proved the extent

that these people can work against their own people.

And that was the end of it.

No, no, no. It just pushed it further underground.

We could never have a Watergate in this country.

Our secret world is beyond the law.

Which brings me back to what I was saying.

G. C. H. Q. In cheltenham

is hugely funded by,

and totally integrated with, the Americans.

Now, you don't believe we don't do anything they do?

All right.

I don't know what you know,

and I don't read what you read.

But I do know that no one in his right mind

risks a secure job these days.

You do have the right to give it up.

So, for god's sake, leave it at that.

Resign and walk away.

It would be conniving of me

to... to... to do nothing,

knowing what I know now. Don't you see?

No, I don't. I bloody well don't!

I'm sorry. I didn't want to get you going.

I just wanted you to know, that's all.

Well...

Yes?

Mind how you go.

And you.

Dad,

you know all my movie heroes were American.

Do you remember

when we used to be glued to the telly when I was a kid? Yeah?

Well, and we used to watch them go to the moon and walk on it.

Christ, wasn't that bloody marvelous?

Yeah, well, the world's changed, that's all.

I still believe that the man in the white hat

always wins in the end. And I intend to prove it.

You do, do you?

Yessiree!

Pow! Pow!

Goodbye.

So.

Now we see.

Please to stand up.

It's wonderful.

I can hardly recognize myself.

This calls for a toast.

But see,

I have brought the comrade colonel

something else.

Now, isn't that something?

Alex.

Thank you.

No, no. Please.

Is for you to keep.

To Russia. To Russia.

Russia.

I wish the comrade colonel

a pleasant journey.

Thank you for all your help.

I'll see your friend safely off the premises.

Don't drink all the vodka before I get back.

Trust me.

Let's look before we leap.

All clear.

You see? You can't fault our security.

Safe journey.

0-3-3-1.

May I speak to sir Adrian chapple, please?

Speaking.

Chateau direct vintners here, sir Adrian,

I'm so sorry being so long in getting back to you.

It appears your order was detained in bond,

but I'm assured it'll be released very shortly.

Thank you for letting me know.

This way, please, sir.

One of my better productions.

They made a wonderful job of the furniture.

They did, indeed, flecker.

Well, well.

Incidentally, what's happening

to dodgson's prison contact?

The one who passed him the pills and so on?

He's having 10 years off his sentence,

and then we're sending him to northern Ireland.

You do take away with one hand

what you give with the other.

Coming from you?

I don't think you should find that actually displeasing.

Good god! Chapple!

We'll never hear the end of it

if the Americans find that out.

Well done. Excellent. Excellent.

He was a very good subject.

And also it helped that he'd been to the flat

to see his controller before.

Is it all on video?

Of course.

I was there!

How good of you to come!

Good of you to ask me down.

First things first, uh,

you like this, I believe?

Quite right.

Water? Ice?

Just as it comes.

Spoken like a scotsman.

There we are.

Your good health.

My dear fellow.

Rather different from the last time you were down here.

Very.

It's as well the Irish are besotted by racing.

A bomb here and the country really would grind to a halt.

Sobering thought.

Come and mingle.

Sorry.

I agree with your solution, by the way.

It avoids the courts on the one hand,

and on the other...

Quite.

It used to be thought, and I was inclined to agree,

that such mistakes were forgivable

because, unlike the enemy,

we err on the side of decency and trust.

When we pry, we do so blunderingly.

And even our most hardened snoopers

are given to thoughts of fair play.

However, that's in the past.

Now, with regard to chapple,

there've been talks with the Attorney General,

and he's agreed.

But since blunt,

various sort of people, senior people,

have been very, very cagey.

They don't want their old age ruined

by some journalist writing a book,

or some prime minister making a statement,

so that they're publicly blown,

lose their "k" and all that.

Of course.

I mean, one can understand it.

When it comes to chapple, we are not, after all, dealing with the gross.

Immunity should mean immunity. Wouldn't you say?

Absolutely.

Let's go down and see the parade.

My view is that we let him get on with it

until we find out how much damage he has done

and have him dead to rights

which we do not, at the moment, legally.

Then we turf out his Soviet contacts

and give him the choice.

Now, as for the other fellow,

now he's in the grosser class.

I propose we leave him to flecker.

Flecker has a very creative bent.

It really is extraordinarily useful,

having the two of them in our sights at the same time.

I think we have a knack for this sort of thing, don't you?

In the matter of Jones...

Oh, yes. I understand your man failed to read him right.

Ah, it would seem so.

Although, had the good friends been less precipitate or more deft...

Speculation.

The matter is, if that young man blows the whistle on it,

this entire operation will have been

much worse than pointless.

I hear you.

I am looking to you

to preserve the special relationship...

Or what's left of it.

Sir Adrian chapple will be presenting

the owner and trainer of sea captain

with the trophy.

A special trophy will be presented

to the winning jockey in the winner's enclosure.

Uh, Mr. Jones?

Yes?

Can I have a word with you a moment, sir?

Who are you?

I'm a police officer.

I've got a bit of bad news.

What?

It's about your son, sir.

It seems he fell off a roof.

It's very bad news, I'm afraid, sir.

Are you all right?

Yes, thank you.

Is he your son?

You formally identify him as Robert Arthur Jones?

Yes.

Thank you.

This is all your son's gear in here.

It's very light.

That's all he had on him when we found him.

It's been examined.

He was dressed.

The bed wasn't slept in.

Did you see him often?

Sir?

His bed wasn't slept in, you said?

Correct.

How do you know?

From the scene-of—crime officer.

Well, who let him in?

The first thing I was told by your inspector brown...

Bourne.

Inspector bourne on the phone this morning

was that Bob was alone in the house

over the weekend.

The other two were away.

My colleagues borrowed a ladder,

went onto the roof and into the house that way.

I suppose these are cheaper

than a cardboard box or something decent?

It's all there, sir. If you'd just like to sign for it.

Where do I sign?

Just sign there.

Mr. Jones?

Yes?

Bill pickett.

I had an appointment to talk to your son.

Very sorry to hear what happened.

Who are you?

A journalist.

I don't want to talk.

I wouldn't bother you...

Which paper?

A weekly, the senator.

Bob may have mentioned me.

No.

Who'd you say you are?

Bill pickett.

The senator?

That's right.

Prove it.

Well,

what did he want to talk to you about?

Bob?

Yeah, Bob.

I don't really know.

Don't fuck about with me!

He's dead!

You're a leftie, aren't you?

What else?

You want to stir up the dodgson business.

That's it, isn't it?

Now Bob's dead, you want to use him.

I don't need to use him to do that, I assure you.

How did he get in touch with you?

He telephoned me.

I checked up on him and called him back.

What?

You don't exactly take it on trust

when someone you've never heard of

telephones you and says they work at g.C.H.Q.

And they want to talk.

I mean, there are laws.

And things have been very jumpy since brother dodgson...

When was this?

Last week.

So why the delay?

I mean in you two getting together?

Bob said that what he wanted to discuss involved someone else.

The other person didn't want to talk to me.

He hoped to persuade him. That's the lot.

No, it isn't.

Why the appointment today?

He told me that he'd be in touch with the other person this weekend.

In touch?

Yeah.

I brought this to discuss with him.

Look,

I'll give you my telephone number.

You might want to call me.

Not on your life.

Who told you he was dead?

That one.

Hello?

Hello, Bob?

No, this... this is his father.

Oh, yes, Mr. Jones. We've met.

This is Cynthia goodburn. Is Bob there?

No.

Ok, I 7! Call back. When do you think he'll be in?

Uh, he's dead.

What?

It... it was an accident.

Oh, my god! Oh, my god!

Oh, Bob! Oh, god...

Mrs. Goodburn?

Oh, god! Not Bob!

Cynthia!

Oh, god!

Mr. Jones, I saw you arrive.

I thought you might like some tea.

I'd like to thank you, Rose.

Why?

For clearing the place up.

I didn't. What makes you...

Someone did.

Mr. Jones...

Perhaps Mark... Mr. Jones.

You were in the Navy,

yes.

So you'll understand about orders.

Oh, yes.

I'm a section leader,

and I have to say this now.

Then we'll all know where we stand.

You must be very shocked.

Believe me, it hasn't been easy at my end, either.

In what way?

I can't discuss that.

So,

what I have to say is this...

We have orders, Mark and I,

not to discuss Bob's...

What happened.

Orders?

Yes.

Particularly with relation to the press,

but with everyone really.

So, if we can just observe that, Mr. Jones.

Even relatives?

You can't talk to a father

about his dead son?

You can't say anything,

even though it might be comforting?

Do you know what I find difficult, Rose?

Is why it is against the national interest

for the press to print

that you and Mark liked him,

and that although he tended to have 2 left feet

and fall over the cat,

he was a decent person with a good heart.

That's not absolutely fair.

You're perfectly aware of the way the press twist things

and make them up.

We have our jobs and our futures, too, you know.

Yes, yes, I know.

I can see you're really going to miss him.

How dare you say that!

I am sleeping here tonight. This is Bob's room.

You can put a notice on his food cupboard

and a label on his towel in the bathroom.

Ouch!

Dozy bugger!

You nearly had me over.

Is that what happened?

You got under his feet?

No, you were down there.

Apparently, he fell off the roof in the dark.

I don't understand. What was he doing out there?

Rescuing the cat.

At least that's what everybody seems to want me to believe.

Either that, or he committed suicide.

Ohh...

Bob, too?

You must feel pretty bruised one way and another.

I thought you didn't like me.

Well, I just thought you were bad news for Bob,

I mean, married with a kid and everything.

None of that seems to matter much now.

We've both lost him.

Not that I'm not prejudiced, you understand.

It's just that my prejudices

don't always seem to stand up to actuality.

That's what Bob said.

He did?

Actually, what he said was you weren't really

the old stick in the mud you made yourself out to be.

That sounds like Bob.

Is there something wrong with your telephone?

No, I don't think so.

"They have put out the lights in the ordinary world."

What?

It was something Bob said.

Mr. Jones?

Yes. It's very good of you to see me.

What's the trouble that the coroner's officer couldn't deal with?

Uh, just to clear my mind,

I'd be very grateful if you would tell me...

I'd be grateful if you could tell me

whether your scene-of-the-crime officer

took away anything as evidence.

Is something missing? Is that what you're saying?

Yes, I think so.

You think so.

I... I think my son's diaries for this year and last year

and some letters written to him

and some books are missing.

Presumably because you knew they were in the room on Sunday last?

You're definite about that, Mr. Jones?

No, inspector.

Was anything taken away?

Nothing was removed from the premises to my knowledge.

I find it a bit difficult to, uh, sink in.

Your men went through the house?

Yes.

None of the beds had been slept in,

and there was no evidence

of anyone having broken in.

Correct.

Which leaves the security people.

What security people?

Well, g.C.H.Q., of course.

You must have been in contact with them.

What we do is our business, Mr. Jones.

I'll remember that for the interview.

What interview?

The b.B.C. Phoned me.

Right.

We informed your son's place of work.

A sergeant interviewed some of his colleagues.

We received full cooperation

and there was nothing unusual to report.

I hope that puts your mind at rest.

How did he die?

That's for the coroner to decide, sir.

How do you think he died,

based on reports you received?

It was almost certainly an accident,

but it could have been a suicide.

There's no evidence either way,

no witnesses.

There's me.

Bob was the last person in the world to commit suicide.

People do it every day.

Your men took away nothing to your knowledge.

So... so, there was no note, no letter.

If my son had committed suicide,

he would have said why.

And there was the state of his room.

Well, what do you mean?

Tidy, really squared away.

Someone else did that. Not Bob. Never.

With respect, sir, you've been watching too much television.

I'm sorry I'm late.

What do you think of this wine?

I've never seen anything...

Thanks for coming.

How was it?

Infuriating.

The inspector was too condescending by half.

And there was another bloke there.

Plain clothes. Never opened his mouth.

I've asked bill pickett to join us.

Look here! You could see I was trying to get in there!

Oh, tough titty.

All I know is that since dodgson,

there have been 3 sudden deaths

at g.C.H. Q. Cheltenham in as many months.

The last thing I want to find out is that our security

services had a hand in them.

Why should they?

Do you know what was the most surprising thing

about the c.I.A. Revelations?

Their paranoia.

People who spend their lives spying and telling lies are like mental patients.

It's a form of flight from reality.

And they're not answerable,

and they know they're not.

There's no reason for them not to overreact,

and it won't do.

They're completely incapable

of distinguishing between dissent and treason.

As far as they're concerned, anyone who rocks the boat is a threat.

To what?

Their idea of good order.

All right. The point is, what are we going to do?

Bob didn't tell you the name of this man that Mark put him on to?

He said, uh,

what I didn't know wouldn't hurt me or Tiffany.

But he went down to see this Mr. X at east grinstead

the weekend before he called me.

And came back absolutely certain

that our side wouldn't have thought twice

about murdering Allen if it had suited them.

Presumably, that's what he hoped to persuade this character to confirm to me.

At which point,

Bob falls off a roof.

When he was conveniently alone in the house.

Well, I'd better get on and find this Mr. X.

There can't be that many dirty-tricks men living in retirement

in east grinstead.

Although, on second thoughts...

Be in touch.

Pickett.

I want the truth.

Don't we all?

I am not interested in making political capital

out of the death of my son.

If this story holds up,

you might not be able to avoid it.

In fact, with a bit of luck,

it might bring down the government.

See you.

And I'm not out to change the system.

No, but we need someone with that kind of commitment.

If we're right,

what happened to Bob and Allen and us

doesn't affect 98 percent of the population,

but it could hit any one of them like a car crash.

The least we can do is tell them the odds.

Let's just stay with the facts.

The people who live there,

the police, the security services

all agree that there was no suspicion of anything except

an accident or suicide.

Not suicide.

Ok.

You said that's out of character.

You're his father, you should know.

In which case, pace, the coroner,

the verdict has got to be

a tragic accident.

But one, just one...

Not very distinguished, politically-motivated journalist

is in there

trying to whoop it up into another g.C.H.Q. Scandal.

And what do you do? You cry murder.

There was his room.

For god's sake, frank,

couldn't your son have decided to clean up his own room

just once in 28 years?

You may be right.

There's no maybe about it.

Look, old love, I'm going to be based

in your friendly neighborhood Sheraton hotel for a bit.

So, if you feel like drowning your sorrows, just give me a bell, all right?

Right.

Take it easy.

If you told the majority of people

that a bloke called Jones was about to breach our security service,

when he fell off a roof and was killed,

they would say, "serves him right."

If you told them he'd been pushed,

they'd say, "what do you expect?" And so would I.

Because up until now, I was part of that majority.

I would have said, "you don't sign on for something like that"

"and then break your word."

And now?

I... I don't know.

I... I don't have any powerful friends,

I... I can't go to my lawyer or my m.P.

The verdict's already in.

The only way I have of telling ordinary people

is to go over the heads of that lot.

And that, god help me, puts me in bed with the bastards like bill pickett.

Hello.

Bill pickett. Is frank Jones there?

Yes.

Well, tell him I've found our man.

Frank, it's bill for you.

He's found Mr. X.

He wouldn't give me the name over the phone

in case it was bugged,

but we're to meet him at the junction

of the a4 and the a217.

Shit!

You might as well take your time now, lads.

Move along, please, sir.

"For as much as it has pleased

"almighty god of his great mercy

"to take unto himself the soul of our dear brother,

"Robert Jones, here departed...

"We therefore commit his body to the ground.

"Earth to earth, ashes to ashes,

"dust to dust.

"In sure and certain hope of resurrection to eternal life

"through our lord Jesus Christ

"who shall change our vile body

"that it may be like unto his glorious body,"

"according to the mighty working,"

"whereby he is able to subdue all things"

"to himself."

I never understood about revolutionaries.

I do now.

But I don't have the stomach for it.

I don't know what else...

I can do, Bob.

And that's the truth.

I was very relieved about the verdict, Mr. Jones.

Oh?

Ium...

Sorry to be so conspiratorial.

I mean, there's nothing to be conspiratorial about,

since dodgson...

Look,

we were all told to do it after him.

They said it helped keep people on the rails.

And in my position, I mean, when they p.V.'D me,

I kept something back, so when Bob...

I told them he'd been asking questions about Allen goodburn's suicide.

Well, you can't blame yourself

for telling the truth.

No, of course not. I just thought...

Look, there's been a terrible atmosphere at work

and every kind of rumor.

I know I can't imagine how bad it must be for you.

I just wanted to get it off my chest that I'm really very sorry about everything.

Don't worry about it.

I know you were Bob's friend who wouldn't let him down.

I wouldn't let them bring in a verdict of suicide, anyway.

I can't tell you what a relief it is.

You see, I think he was murdered.

Oh, Christ!

No, that's impossible.

I didn't mean to... Look, I better go.

Yes, go and tell them about our chat, what I think.

No, I'd never do that,

but I don't believe Bob was murdered.

Oh, yes, you do.

You believed it when I said it.

You felt it like I do.

Why'd you feel like that, Mark?

Bob was...

Like Dostoevsky's idiot.

No help to anybody.

All the same, I loved him.

I'm not gay,

but I loved him because he had this quality.

I don't know why I betrayed him.

I think the quality he had was to show you what you are. I don't know if it was.

I'm a sort of natural Judas.

I did it in a dream almost.

I never meant to,

right up to the moment that I knocked on the h.E.O.'S door.

The same as now. I never meant to betray them to you.

You sent him to see someone. We know that. Who was it?

I can't say it. I can't say it to you.

You fucking fruitcake!

Who'd you send him to? Eh?

Greig!

Greig?

They told you to send him to Charlie greig?

They said he was a friend of the family.

Come in, come in.

Get an eyeful.

Huh?

Thank god for the old expense account.

Where would we be without it?

Where indeed?

Take your coat off.

Sit down. What'll it be?

Uh, vodka with anything, really. Tonic.

Right.

Uh, well,

it's not the real thing,

so, um...

We don't have to be too frugal, do we?

You all right?

Yeah, fine.

You remember that time the old man went bananas?

He came onto the main deck,

he said to the marine corporal...

I was there, he said to the marine corporal,

"get that horse out of my cabin!"

He was a 2-bottle-a-day man, he was.

Well, cheers.

Cheers.

Nobody remembers any of that, do they?

Korea.

By god.

If we'd had the same publicity

they gave the falklands, eh?

All those smart asses saying it wouldn't work.

And then when it did, saying it shouldn't have happened.

I mean, there we were in Korea,

flying piston-engine aircraft against migs.

How many pilots did we lose in those 2 years, eh?

And that was just us.

We did it, though.

Yes, we did, didn't we?

You...

Were the best...

Carmen Miranda I ever saw.

Yeah.

And you

were the best pilot I ever met.

No, no.

Fixed wing, as they say now.

No, no.

But definitely a natural.

So cheers, old boy.

Cheers.

It's bite-on-the-bullet time.

I'm finally beginning to get myself sorted out about old Bob.

I've been a bit of a bore about it, I know.

But I really miss the silly bugger.

Of course you do.

Ooh!

Ha. Time to pump ship.

The old bladder's beginning to shrink lately.

You want to watch that.

That's the first sign.

Hold hard!

Ooh.

Uh, I...

I can't get over you doing the old James Bond.

I should be so lucky.

No birds.

Nothing is stirred and not much shaken.

Ooh, god.

Now it's my turn.

Oh!

Oh! Oh!

Oh! Oh!

Oh, the relief!

Did you... did you hear the one

about the blind man out for a walk?

Ah, the guide dog cocks its leg all over him,

and the blind man

stops and fishes out a dog biscuit.

He's just about to offer it to the faithless hound

when this Barbara woodhouse character clashes across.

"Look here," she says, "you can't reward the animal for doing that!"

"Reward it?" The man says.

"Rewa rd it?

"I may be blind, but I'm not daft!

Ha-ha. "I'm... i'm just trying to find out"

"which end his head is"

"50's I can kick his arse in!"

It's warm in there.

Here we are.

Double-o Charlie!

Double-o Charlie.

Bottoms up.

Up spirits!

Stand fast the holy ghost!

Hmm! Jesus.

Do you want some tonic?

Tonic, yes. Tonic.

Here we are. Here we are. There's some tonic.

Ice.

You want some ice with that?

Yeah.

There's some ice, Charlie.

Cheers. Cheers. Mmm. Mmm.

Ah, lovely.

Oh! Oh!

I keep thinking about that weekend.

Huh?

Bob alone in the house.

He was my son...

My son.

My son.

Old pal.

Old pal.

That's why I didn't want to get involved.

I told them, I said, "I don't want any part of it!"

But...

Once you're in, you're in for life.

They've got you by the short and curlies, you know how it is.

Yeah, I know.

And you... you weren't any help,

making out Bob as a timid sort of bloke.

So, you tried to scare him off, eh?

Well, I knew I bloody could.

"Oh, all right," I said, "leave it to me," I said.

But because of what happened to Cynthia's husband,

Bob was so shocked,

he became even more suspicious.

You can imagine where that left me.

"You got us into this, commander."

"You get us out of it."

Bastards!

"Oh, yes, sir, no, sir. 3 bags full."

I still don't see

why you had to kill him.

Kill your son? Me?

Come on, frank. I know you.

I flew with you.

Besides, we don't do that sort of thing. Not our own people.

Don't look at me like that.

Don't you realize what happened? Can't you put it together?

There was no sign of a struggle.

There was no break-in that Sunday.

Bob was expecting you.

Nice bloke, Bob.

Now, if you didn't kill him,

I don't know many ways

to fix an accident,

but I've read about 3,

and one of them is where you jab a certain point

and the bloke blacks out

without leaving any Mark.

Huh?

Was that your job?

When I'd done it, I went out,

left the door unlocked.

But I swear to god, frank,

he was only unconscious!

I didn't know those bastards were...

Frank, frank...

Forgive me.

I forgive you.

My job was...

To make sure the other lot could get in

without any aggro.

I mean I... I thought they were just gonna, you know, lean on him

a little bit. I mean, I didn't...

Which other lot?

You won't know, old clear.

Which others, Charlie?

Oh, well...

Whoever the yanks sent in for them,

do their dirty work for them.

Yanks?

The whole setup...

Was...

Was so that the yanks wouldn't rumble

who the real villains were.

Do you know who they are?

Some cipher clerk at

g.c.h.q. And...

Who else, Charlie?

No.

I've talked enough already.

That's because I'm feeling rotten about Bob.

Anyway, knowing won't do you any good.

They'll just lock you up, or worse.

And me, if I tell you.

You're still going to.

Ohh...

Chapple!

For god's sake, frank.

Sir Adrian bleedin' chapple!

Now do you see?

Bob got too close.

That's why they threw him to the wolves.

There's not a blind thing that you and me,

we can't do anything about it. No,

because they're establishment.

They're the closed ranks!

So for god's sake, frank...

Oh, Jesus!

I used to be able to drink...

There's no reason for Mrs. Goodburn or the child

to come to any harm.

Providing you're sensible.

You must understand that our...

Special relationship with the Americans

is at a low ebb.

Our record in the matter of security

has been quite appalling.

40 years of damage

inflicted on the alliance

by vassal,

Blake, blunt, prime, bettaney,

old uncle Kim philby and the rest.

Nonetheless, we are at the Beck and call of the Americans

because our national survival

depends upon them.

The so-called independent British deterrent

is a meaningless indulgence to the past.

The days when nuclear stalemate

meant no nuclear war

are long gone.

Now nuclear war is expected

and planned for.

All that remains in question

are its timing and extent.

Such warning as we get

will be from electronic espionage

by g.C.H.Q., cheltenham,

and its linked stations

at home and abroad.

The consequences

were the Americans to deny us access

to their giant spy machine

are simply too awful to contemplate.

I could justify a great deal

in terms of the coming wrath.

It is not, happily,

my task to justify

the sequence of events

which resulted in your son's...

Tragic death.

I am merely authorized by her majesty's government

to set the matter in its...

Global context.

The Americans had information

that led them to believe that dodgson

had 2 named associates involved with him

at g.C.H.Q., cheltenham.

And they suspected there was a 3rd man.

Do you see now why we had to go along with that?

You're telling me that this whole thing

was to prevent the Americans, our allies,

from finding out that the real traitors

were higher placed than kedge or goodburn?

One of them, certainly.

It was the only chance we had to uncover him.

Well, have you?

Yes.

What did you do with him?

We left him in place until we can assess the damage he's done,

and how most effectively to use him to embarrass the Russians.

When you'll do a deal with him

so that he can go on drawing his pension

and having tea with the queen.

And you expect me to shut up

about the fact that my son,

among other innocents,

were expendable in this charade?

You don't have any alternative, Jones.

What will you do? Arrange another accident?

That won't be necessary.

Any attempt on your part

to publish or broadcast,

expose, sue, litigate on the basis of what you know

or may surmise will simply never see the light of Clay.

I have killed people before.

And when my best friend was shot down over Korea,

I also did it with pleasure.

Ancl if I were to kill you,

the publicity surrounding my trial...

Cases involving national security

are held in camera.

If you're thinking of other ways

of drawing public attention to yourself,

don't bother.

We would merely arrange for you

to be taken into psychiatric care...

A breakdown following your...

Son's tragic accident.

As for Mrs. Goodburn...

Well, you wouldn't be here if you didn't realize that the child

makes her much more vulnerable than you are.

I had a phone call.

Anonymous.

Polite, but, uh...

I've already lost 2 people that I loved.

I couldn't bear it

if anything were to happen to Tiffany.

Or you, come to that.

I never, ever thought I'd be beaten...

Not in my ordinary life.

I always knew I'd have to fight,

but I always reckoned I'd win.

That's the worst part of it.

I've let you down...

You and Bob.

What do you want, frank?

I'll tell you what I want.

I want to believe in england again.

Ah! Collecting for the British legion,

I imagine.

You're fortunate. It's my man's day off.

He lacks charity. Do come in.

Can I offer you a drink?

I expect you'd like a beer.

I may not be able to accommodate you there.

But gin or whiskey?

No, thank you.

Oh, you don't drink while on duty. Very laudable, I'm sure.

Here.

I don't get it.

Who are you?

My son was killed because of you.

You're clearly deranged.

He got too close

to finding out that our security people

were letting the Americans eliminate stooges

so that they could get a line on the real villain. You.

If that's the case, why haven't I been arrested?

Because they wanted you to stay in place until they found out enough

to make you an offer you couldn't refuse.

Well, if you're right, there's nothing you can do about it.

Not a lot. They made that clear.

Just tell me...

I mean, my son was killed because of you.

I don't understand how someone like you,

with everything going for you,

could become a traitor.

I can hardly be expected to explain my thought processes

to someone of your intellectual caliber.

Oh, I thought the whole point was

that you were supposed to be on the side of the workers.

Very well.

I had an average upper-class education,

genuinely of the right.

Churchill was my hero.

I went up to Oxford

and joined the civil service

was a high flyer,

content with britain's part in the world.

So what happened?

Nothing. By which I mean there was no blinding flash

of revelation.

Just gradually, I became aware how insignificant we were.

The world had to choose between the 2 superpowers.

I chose Russia.

It wasn't a moral judgment initially.

More an aesthetic one.

It took the Suez affair

to bring home the total futility

of the British position.

We tried, and failed humiliatingly,

to halt the march of progress

when we had no alternative to offer.

Paradoxically, it was the way

in which the Americans, our allies,

sabotaged that desperate venture

that confirmed my commitment to the other camp.

Nothing that has happened since

has caused me to change it.

Our own political posturing

is neither moral nor relevant.

As for america,

the standard-bearer of the west,

she is not simply in decline,

she's dying from a combination of greed, paranoia

and social injustice.

And her death throes drive her

to ever more dangerous feats of brinkmanship,

both in Europe, Central America

and in space.

If you really believe all that,

why don't you go and live in bloody Russia?

I knew I was wasting my time.

I'll tell you why.

Because your sort always manages

to have its cake and eat it.

I mean, look at this place.

It makes me sick.

What is it you want?

I want your written confession

of what you've been giving to the Russians

and for how long.

It won't do you any good.

I know it won't bring my son back,

but at least it'll stop you

from living off the fat of a country you've been betraying for so long.

From your secure, pensionable position

near the top of the heap.

You can't force me...

Just do it!

As you wish.

I imagine you want to vet it.

This'ii do.

And now perhaps you'll return it.

One hates to be melodramatic,

but, um...

Oh!

Any attempt on your part

to publish, broadcast, expose, sue, or litigate,

will simply never see the light of day.

"And to god's gracious mercy and protection

"we commit you.

"The lord bless you and keep you,

"the lord make his face to shine upon you,

"and be gracious unto you,"

"the lord lift up his countenance upon you,"

"and give you peace,"

"both now and evermore."

Amen.

Shoulder arms!

Quick march!

It would be conniving of me to do nothing,

knowing what I know now.

Don't you see 7

their secret world has put out the light

of the ordinary world.

I still believe that the man in the white hat

always wins in the end.

And I intend to prove it.