All language subtitles for MI-5 S04E05 The Book.DVDRip.NonHI.en.BBC

- This is reckless.
- Yeah... but doable.

- Brilliant operation.
- It's not over.

I'm sorry? If I float an idea,
by definition it IS an option.

Feel wonderfully alive, do you?

Like death, actually.

Things are bad enough, Juliet.

- Short-term chaos for long-term stability.
- Let me deal with this my way.

Clive, are you sure? Can I say
anything to change your mind?

I could use your
help in fighting them.

Two men against a
new world order? Please.

Toppling communism
was child's play

compared to fighting
this... velvet fascism.

No, I know when to fold.

My cottage shall
do me just fine.

You've been doing this
longer than any of us.

I can't imagine you
giving it all up just like that.

What are you going
to do with yourself?

Don't worry about me, Harry. I'll find
better ways to keep myself amused.

You didn't need to do this.

You didn't need to involve them.

They're my sister's
children, for God's sake.

We need to make sure we
have your full cooperation.

What do you want me to do?

Say goodbye.

It won't even make it to the front
page, Ten grand? Ten grand?

She shagged a footballer, for God's
sake. She didn't find the cure for cancer.

Two grand. Non-negotiable.

End of story.

- How do you want to do this?
- As painlessly as possible.

But before we do that, I
need something from you.

Shall we?

Hello.

Hello?

Clive?

Stop, stop, stop!

Let's get out of here.

Somewhere among these bright young things
is your new field officer, Mr. Carter,

and your four additional
desk officers, Miss Evershed.

Courtesy of the Home
Secretary's timely recruitment drive.

Shortlists by tomorrow
morning, please.

We're getting first dibs,
ahead of the other sections.

Eugh! Six languages, a Double First from
Bristol, and hobbies include kite-surfing.

Ooh, cute too. Better
brush up your CVs, boys.

We have vetting consultants to go
through the candidates' sordid details.

I like to know the sordid details of anyone
I'm going to be working with intimately.

Within professional
boundaries, of course.

Of course.

These are the pick of the crop.
They had the best psychometric tests

- which our esteemed HR specialist...
- Debra Langham.

- ..will be with us tomorrow to explain.
- She can start with the word psychometric.

- She'll be here in the morning.
- At 9am, actually.

Which will give you time
to sift through the dross,

to choose the most
stellar candidates

- to join our illustrious brotherhood.
- Hm.

- What?
- I was just thinking,

"clique" or "circle" might be
more inclusive, don't you think?

No, I like "brotherhood".

Anyone else have a problem with
my way of expressing myself today?

Harry, you need to see this.

Well, details are still sketchy, but
what we do know is that Clive McTaggart,

a former high-ranking member
of the intelligence services,

was found dead at his home this
morning from an apparent suicide,

Mr. McTaggart's sister has confirmed
that he had been fighting cancer

and that the pain had become
increasingly difficult to bear,

- Are you OK?
- Yes.

How well did you know him?

As well as anyone, I suppose,
which isn't saying very much.

We worked together
several times over the years.

Although he wasn't exactly the
most gregarious man I ever met.

- He wasn't married?
- No.

Probably considered
himself married to the service.

Oh, that's all right, then.

I was worried he'd
died alone and lonely.

If you feel like you want
to talk to someone...

..I don't have any
plans later if... you know.

Thank you, Ruth, but I've
got to return a few calls.

Nothing like a sudden death to
bring old friends out of the woodwork.

It's got to be the Falklands.

No. Moscow. He knew what Brezhnev's
flunkies were up to before they did.

No, you're both wrong. His finest
hour was in recruiting yours truly.

I knew he had to have a
black mark somewhere.

To have achieved all
that and end up like he did.

That's our lot in life, isn't it?
To toil away in the darkness

and keep our ever-shrinking
realm out of harm's way,

before withering away in
some God-forsaken cottage.

I'm talking about his state
of mind, his disappointment.

We let him down.

Times change, Harry.

He fought a different kind of
enemy, one that had a face.

Ever get the feeling that face is
staring back at you from the mirror?

Hardly.

Unless I've come back from some
war-torn hole with the mother of all tans.

Were you surprised? When
you heard he'd killed himself?

I know bowel cancer
can be extremely painful...

Once it had spread to his liver, he knew
it was a matter of months, weeks even.

- You knew about that, right?
- Of course.

- Shh! Shh!
- Gary? Gary!

What was that all about?
What are you doing?

I'm so sorry, Ruthie. I didn't know
who else to turn to. I'm in trouble.

Why am I not surprised?

If this isn't hugely important, I
hope your passport's up to date.

Harry, it's me. Ruth.

- Ruth?
- Yes.

- What time is it?
- Late. Sorry to call at this hour, but...

- Are you all right?
- Me? Yes, I'm fine, thanks.

Well, that's a... that's good.

Harry, I was just wondering, ,,

I was just wondering if
perhaps you could come over.

Come over? Now?

Well, yes.

- To your place?
- Yes. No.

I mean, there's...

What?

There's someone
I need you to meet.

Oh.

You're sure they were British?

Put it this way, they
weren't Al Qaeda.

I don't understand what
you were doing there.

Forgive my scepticism, but
of all the reporters out there,

why would Clive
McTaggart call a reporter

from a tabloid newspaper that has
a less than exemplary reputation?

What, me or the tabloid?

He knew I wouldn't
back off the story.

And how did he know that?

About ten years ago, I got wind
of a story he was involved in.

The Government
didn't want it publicised.

That was when we first met.

It took a lot of convincing and,
er... cajoling to get me to kill it.

- But you did kill the story?
- Well, I liked the guy.

Besides, it wasn't that great a
story, and this way he owed me one.

Tell me what he
told you. Exactly.

Well, he said something
had happened, ,,

- Call signs?
- Zulu Papa Uniform Three Seven One.

Connecting you,

- Is it done?
- No, sir, He's not alone,

He's with a spook,
You need to hear this,

He was despondent

about the way our political
system's degenerated, you know,

The lies, the spin, Iraq, the
whole "politics of fear" thing.

All the fantasies this
government keeps coming up with

to justify their existence and make
themselves look like self-righteous heroes.

- He called it...
- Velvet fascism. I know.

I doubt the people of Manhattan
would necessarily agree.

It's Harry Pearce.

Please, 9/11 was the best thing
that ever happened to you people,

The line between fear and
complacency is a thin one.

But fear's much better when it
comes to getting votes, isn't it?

Anyway, he decided
to let the cat out the bag.

He told me he'd spent
the last year writing a book.

He thought the country could
use an injection of hard truths.

He wasn't going to
leave anything out.

- Regardless of the Official Secrets Act.
- That's what he wanted me for.

Anything can come out if
you're willing to take the flak.

That's one of the
marvels of the internet.

Yeah, once
something's out there...

it is out, it takes
on a life of its own,

- Did he give it to you?
- Don't bother.

That little bestseller's
long gone by now.

It's been backed up. Maybe
he emailed it to his lawyer, or...

McTaggart was from another
age. He didn't even own a computer.

He was strictly a
pen-and-paper man.

Christ. There was something
on the table, right next to him.

Like a big notebook.

Black, leather-bound.

- You can't stay here.
- Why not? Nobody knows I'm here.

It's out of the question.
You carrying a phone?

- Yes, why?
- Give it to me.

They could've tracked
you, How did you get here?

We're losing our
window of opportunity!

I bussed it to the city,
Then I got a tube here, ,,

- My car is still at his house.
- So they already know who you are.

Ruth, you can't stay here either.
Adam can take you to a safe house.

What do you want us to do, sir?

What do you mean? Sir?

You gonna protect me?

- Sir?
- Stand down.

- Stand down and get out of there.
- Understood,

I never expected this from Clive.
Of all the ill-conceived things to do.

- I'll call you from the safe house.
- Yeah.

I spoke to a friend at Special Branch.
The only car at the house was McTaggart's.

OK, who else knew about
this book besides Hicks?

Clive wasn't an idiot. This isn't something
he'd have shared until it was ready.

Do you think Hicks might have
let others in on his little secret?

No. If anyone knows the
value of a great scoop, it's Gary.

The question is whether it's the
work of some lone black-ops psycho

who doesn't want his
skeletons uncovered,

or something bigger than that.

Hicks said Clive told him he
wasn't going to leave anything out.

One line about a sexed-up report
nearly brought the Government down.

This is a whole book's worth.
Straight from the horse's mouth.

This is not about a lone spook
wanting to stay out of the limelight.

This could be a
disaster, especially now.

I want the bastards who did this,
even if they work in this building.

Use extreme caution
and watch your backs.

These people have access
to the same toys we do.

Erm... no. Well, it... his face
was different, different size.

- No, his mouth was sort of different.
- Different how?

I only saw the guy for a few seconds,
I didn't date him, for God's sake.

Sorry.

McTaggart's phone line is clean. If
they had a bug on it, it's been pulled.

- And his mobile?
- That one's trickier.

I can't tell you if anything's been
planted in it without seeing it...

There are other ways to listen in
without tampering with the handset itself.

- GCHQ.
- Let me see what I can dig up.

We've got a couple
of faces to work with.

Ruth's figuring out a way of running
them through our intel database.

I ran a trace on Hicks's mobile.

All the numbers trying to contact
him today are on his SIM card

except for this one. They've
tried four times this morning.

- You got a name?
- Joanna Portman.

It's registered to an address in Camden.
Hicks says he's never heard of her.

We took a little uninvited
tour inside her home computer.

Whoever lives there has been
busy Googling our Mr. Hicks.

- Look into it.
- Where are you going?

- I've got some cages to rattle.
- Harry!

Is that a good idea? What if
they tried talking him out of it?

- What if there was no other way?
- There's always another way.

Clive had more integrity
than any man I've ever known.

I can't let his murder go
unanswered. I owe him that.

Clive's death really got to you?

I just hope I don't end up spending my
twilight years in bitter disappointment.

I didn't realise you
were that close to him.

We had the occasional drink.
A meal now and then at his club.

Ha! That dreary place.

He liked it. He said it was the one place
he could trust not to bend with the wind.

When he left, he told me
he'd finally have time to read.

And to write.

He certainly had enough material
to come up with a cracking novel.

I think an autobiography
was more what he had in mind.

He'd have to leave
out all the juicy bits.

Not necessarily, if he really
wanted things to come out.

We both know it's virtually impossible
to suppress anything in this day and age.

And Clive had nothing to lose.

Well, I suppose if he was
gonna write a kill-and-tell book,

he's done us all a huge favour
by dying before finishing it.

- Roger Thornhill?
- Cary Grant. "North by Northwest".

His best role, I'd say. Now,
use these from now on.

In case your old ones
are compromised.

Are you ready? Let's go.

This is Debra Langham,
our recruitment consultant.

- Adam Carter.
- Fiona.

I trust you've drawn up
a short list of candidates?

We'll have to reschedule.
Unless you can deal with it?

Great, thanks.

It's the one with the blue door.

According to the woman next
door, there are two girls sharing it.

- Recent grads.
- My kind of stakeout.

- What?
- I love a man in uniform.

I'm here to read the gas meter.

No, it's no trouble at
all. I'm happy to do it.

OK. Thank you. Bye.

- What?
- Gas... meter.

- It should only take a minute.
- OK, come on in.

That takes care of the desk officers.
What about the field officers' prospects?

I wanted to get your input
on the candidates first.

You know, get a clearer
understanding of the test results.

See who you thought
would be the best candidates.

It's just it's, erm...

it's far more sophisticated
than we expected.

- All right. Let's look at what you've got.
- I'll be right back.

Big night?

Flatmate just landed
a big job in the City.

Lucky her. Is that
what you do as well?

Me? God, no. It pays really well, but
there are funkier ways to earn a living.

Yeah, tell me about it.

I didn't mean it like that. You're
not cooped up in an office all day.

You get to see how
messy people's houses are.

It's a charmed life.

Whoa!

- What do you do for a living, then?
- I'm a journalist. Well, an aspiring one.

- I'm job-hunting.
- Good luck.

Thanks, I'm gonna need it if
people are gonna return my calls.

- Everyone's too busy, right?
- Yeah, I guess so.

At least this time they didn't say,
"We'll keep your details on file."

- This is pretty serious stuff.
- Yeah? I can do gossipy too.

- Whatever it takes.
- No, don't sell yourself short.

- You think?
- Yeah. Other people'll do that for you.

I should get going.

Erm... this is gonna sound
really stupid but, erm...

Well, I get the feeling that
there's a lot more to you than...

Just reading the gas meter?

Yeah.

Sorry, I'm very nosey.

- I'd better go.
- Meter's running?

Yes, something like that.

A waste of time. Just a kid
looking for a job as a journalist.

Let's go and check
out McTaggart's.

I brought you some fresh coffee.

Thanks. So, what's the news? Have
they figured out who they are yet?

Erm... we're working on it.

- That's it?
- That's it. Sorry.

- What are you doing?
- I'm just keeping busy, you know.

- Idle hands and all that.
- Hm...

- Can I have a look?
- Oh, it's just the usual rubbish.

You're writing about
what happened?

- Are you insane?
- What else am I gonna do?

You can't expect me
to sit on a story like this.

It's the story of a lifetime.

A short lifetime if
you carry on like this.

- I'm safe here, aren't I?
- Writing about it isn't part of the deal.

Well, why not? I can't use my phone.
I'm not even allowed to call the office.

I have to be escorted up to the roof
to have a smoke. I'm going nuts here!

But if I write it, once it's out
there, they can't hurt me anymore.

What story are you
talking about exactly?

You've got no other witnesses.

It's nothing more than hearsay.

Yeah, but once you get to the bottom
of it we'll have our proof, won't we?

I'll get them to drive you back to the safe
house. You'll be more comfortable there.

Gas Stream, can I help you?

Yeah, hello. Someone was
just here to read the meter,

and it's now making this
really weird ticking noise.

Could he come
back and take a look?

His name's Roger Thornhill,

I could have an engineer
come tomorrow between 8 and 1.

Wouldn't it be easier to
have him come back now?

He's probably
just down the road.

I can't interfere with Mr. Thornhill's
rounds. Will tomorrow be convenient?

Hm...

You know what?
Forget it. It's fine, it's fine.

Malcolm?

I just took a call
from Jo Portman,

It seems that Adam
made quite an impression,

I'll let him know.

What?

It seems you have
a secret admirer.

Come on.

Doesn't look like there are
any mics, no hidden cameras.

If they're keeping tabs on him,
they didn't leave any calling cards.

I wouldn't be too
sure about that.

They had a fibre optic in there.

That's not something
they picked up at Argos.

Sorry. Erm... I'm going to
have to grab him from you.

- You got a smoke?
- No.

Can I double-check the
number I have for him?

Every time I try ringing, I get this weird
tone, like his line's been disconnected.

OK, I see. How about if I come
over and drop my articles off for him?

Oh, this is crazy. Look,
take me to the newsroom.

If I don't write this story,
somebody else is going to.

And that is not gonna happen.
So, just take me to the office.

I can't do that. I
have my orders.

I'm not interested in your bloody
orders. Just take me to the office.

Mr. Hicks!

Hicks has done a runner.

Call Katie, tell her
I'm on my way up.

- What are you doing?
- I can't sit on this. I need to write it.

It's the only way to
get them off my case.

Is that so?

Once it's out, there's no point
in them trying to shut me up.

Of course there is.

It'll take them ten seconds
to wipe out your credibility,

and have you sucking on the inside
of a plastic bag just like McTaggart,

because you couldn't
deal with the heartache.

Come on.

Yeah, we've got
him. It's under control.

All right, see you
at the safe house.

Hi. This'll sound stupid, but I need
you to follow that car. The blue Peugeot.

My husband's in that car, and I think he's
cheating on me. I have to know the truth.

Please. I'll pay you extra.

Thanks.

Malcolm, Any news?

We've recovered some CCTV footage
from a house on the road near McTaggart's.

The camera covers the
main road, We got lucky,

We've got Hicks's car heading there and,
42 minutes later, his car on the way back.

- Can you make out who's driving?
- No, we're enhancing it.

There was another
car following it closely.

- Blue Mercedes?
- Precisely.

Like the one Hicks saw
parked in McTaggart's drive.

- Can you make out the plates?
- Yep.

X492 YCY, But they're fakes,

Cloned off some poor sod's
Vauxhall down in Devon,

OK. Let me know if the
enhancements work out, yeah?

- We're not talking boob jobs, are we?
- Hey! What a...

- Surprise? Coincidence, maybe?
- I was going to say small world.

So, read any good meters lately?

Told you, you were
too good for your job.

- What do you mean?
- Why were you sniffing around my house?

And why did you whisk Gary
Hicks away from his office?

- You've been following me?
- I don't know what's going on,

but it has something to do with some
dirt that Hicks has dug up on someone

and I want the story.

Who are you, really?

All right.

I work for a private
security firm, and Hicks...

You know Hicks, he has a
talent for digging up the muck.

- So, you're like a bodyguard?
- Yeah.

Hicks is working on a story,
he's annoyed a few people.

We're just babysitting
him until the threat passes.

Cool! I still want the story.

You're too late. Hicks
has already written it.

It'll be in the papers tomorrow.

Sorry.

You still did a great job sussing
it out, though. I'll let him know.

I imagine he'll pick up his phone
after that. Look after yourself.

- I'm off.
- I take it your friend is behaving?

Zaf's babysitting him. He's
got things under control.

How did you ever get mixed
up with someone like Hicks?

He wasn't always like that.

He used to write brilliantly incisive
pieces about just about anything.

He wrote this piece
about Kosovo... He cared.

Then he realised people
were more interested in

who Sven-Goran Eriksson
was scrumping that week.

Harry...

- Should we really be doing this?
- What?

These people are willing to do
whatever it takes to suppress it.

Someone's got to draw
the line somewhere.

I... I understand that and...

Clive was your friend and you can't
let his murder go unanswered but...

It isn't just about Clive's
murder, or about the book.

Hicks chose me.

He showed up at my doorstep and
there's nothing we can do about that.

You can't really think
that they're going...

You call me when you
get to the safe house.

Right.

- Who's taking over from you?
- Adam's coming back later.

It's, er... all for a worthy
cause, though, right?

I'm making some tea.

Er... no, thanks, darling.

Hi, Katie, it's
me. I got a story.

I can't tell you what, but
I promise you it is huge.

Just don't run the
presses yet, OK?

Get someone I can
dictate to over the phone,

Call you back as soon as I can.

- Call sign?
- Zulu Papa Uniform Three Seven One.

Connecting, - Have
you found Hicks?

Yes, sir, Well,
then, take him out.

There are enough people out
there who'd love to see him dead.

What about the officers?

Do your best to avoid collateral
damage, but make sure you get him.

Get him down! Now!

- I thought you were going home.
- It's Friday night.

It's not that I want to encourage
this sort of behaviour, but...

you probably saved their lives.

I guess Hicks has
to give me a job now.

- Come on, let's get you home.
- Wait.

- There's more?
- There's more.

I put my phone in their car,

Hicks is still alive.

We had to abort. I'm
getting rid of the car now.

Using the signals from the phone, we
plotted the killers' route to Bermondsey

where we found the
car burnt to a crisp,

erasing any forensic
clues as to their identity.

But it wasn't a total loss.

We looked for all mobiles on the same route
and crossing the cells at the same time.

Unfortunately, there were several
others following the same routing.

But we had something
else to work with.

We looked for a match

with signals coming from the
area around McTaggart's house

at the time of
the faked suicide.

We found one match.

These are the numbers
called from that mobile.

These guys weren't big talkers.

Now, the last one is the
number called from the car

after the attempted
break-in at the safe house.

A number I believe we
are all too familiar with.

Call sign, - Without
the recipient's call sign,

there's no way of determining
who they were calling.

You have two
messages, Message one,

Zulu Papa Uniform
Three Seven One,

Just hang on, -
Hicks is still alive,

I hit speed dial by mistake when I
was putting my phone in their car.

When I got home I had a
20-minute travelogue waiting for me.

Have you always been like this?

So, do I still have to keep
calling you Roger Thornhill

or will you tell me
your real name?

It's Nick. Nick Harding.

You don't really work for a
security company, do you?

Not exactly, no.

This is where you say goodbye
and I never get to see you again?

I'm afraid so.

You were great. Just try not to share
what happened with too many people.

My lips are sealed.

Here's the transcript from Joanna
Portman's answering machine.

We've got the call sign.

Call sign, - Zulu Papa
Uniform Three Seven One.

Connecting you,

Yes?

It's Woodring.

Is he working alone? Or
is he just taking orders?

There's only one
way to find out.

Zulu Papa Uniform
Three Seven One,

Just hang on,

Hicks is still alive,

We had to abort, We took a hit,

You people at Five
have an obsession

with showing off how good you are
at sneaking into other people's homes.

Did you try to get him
to change his mind?

Do you know anyone who ever
managed to talk McTaggart out of anything?

- Did you try?
- Come on, Harry.

He had no incentive to be
reasonable. He was dying.

The cancer had
spread to his liver.

You didn't even try, did you?

So where does it stop? Clive?
Hicks? My people? My team?

Good God, Roy. What did Clive have
on you that made you lose your mind?

Well, I'm flattered, Harry. Really.
You think this is just about me?

You think this is about
saving my own arse?

That's always been your problem,
Harry. You've never been a team player.

That's why you could
never be part of the club.

I don't want to be part of any team
that sanctions killing off its own.

Our job, Harry, yours and mine,
is to neutralise anything or anyone

that can undermine
our country's security.

Clive McTaggart was a
clear and present danger.

He may have
been in virtual exile,

but he still knew
everything that was going on.

His revelations would
have been devastating.

They would have weakened us at
a time when we need to be strong.

He had to be stopped.

You can still make things right.
All it takes is one phone call.

- You want me to give you Hicks?
- He's got to go, Harry.

I can do it with
you or without you.

I want Hicks, Harry.
Make it happen.

"You're not part of the
club." He actually said that?

This complicates things. We don't
know who they are, or how many they are.

Harry, this is getting out of
hand. You need to tell the JIC.

Opening a can of worms leading straight
to the front pages. We don't need that.

- One of them could be on the committee.
- What about Juliet?

Her cage was
rattled. It did the trick.

If only we had the book.

That one, I think.

Well, think carefully. Your
life may depend upon it.

That one.

- What about the handwriting?
- His suicide note.

- Is it enough?
- Plenty.

Do it.

I'd have preferred to have
given Malcolm more time.

And risk another close call?

You're putting your life on the line
based on nothing more than a guess.

I'm going to be late.

I want you to call off the dogs.

- What are you talking about?
- This.

- Where did you find this?
- I spoke to Roy Woodring.

You were in on it. You had
Clive killed. Because of this.

- Are you wired?
- No. It's just you and me.

Roy found out about the book.

He came to see me about
it. We had to do something.

He said he'd take care of it.
I didn't know he'd go that far.

But you and your little cabal were
happy to see him get away with it.

We've all got a
job to do, Harry.

Sometimes it's not a particularly
pleasant one, but it has to be done.

Clive was brilliant
at what he did,

but his job, his duty, to you,
to me, to the whole country,

was to take his secrets and any
misgivings he had to the grave.

- Instead, he stabbed us in the back.
- We're better than that.

You know what's going on out
there. We're living in dangerous times.

- We're better than that.
- We should be.

But sometimes we have no choice.

I didn't want him killed.

But I have no
tolerance for weaklings

who decide to cleanse their
soul before they meet their maker,

with little regard to the mess
they're going to leave behind them.

- What are you going to do with that?
- I'll hang on to it.

And you will take care of Roy. Find
some dark rock for him to crawl under.

And make sure his
path never crosses mine.

- Oh, come on, Harry.
- This is non-negotiable, Juliet.

- Fine.
- Make sure this never happens again.

And you'll leave Hicks alone.

You care about a
maggot like that?

Call off the dogs. This
ends here now, all of it.

Unless you want to
see this hit the presses.

- You wouldn't do that.
- Try me.

You can't write this.

- I can't not write it.
- You can't write it now.

If you do, I won't
help you again.

And mark my words,
you will need help.

I thought McTaggart
was your friend.

We're talking about losing a
battle, not a war. This isn't over.

And, when the time comes, it just
might be handy to have you around.

Why not? Look at those eyes.

Seven languages, Zaf.
You can't argue with that.

Plus, we'd have one less
harassment suit to deal with.

They all have plusses and minuses,
but we have to make some decisions.

What about you, Adam?

Adam?

As long as the vetting doesn't flag
anything too outrageous, the job's yours.

- You're kidding?
- No.

- Seriously?
- Seriously.

It's not a lifetime commitment?

No, you do it for as long as you
want to, but you've gotta want to.

This is insane.

Can you think of a funkier
way to make a living?

If you're reading this note I
am probably already long gone,

and not, I suspect, as a
result of this dreadful illness,

I'm afraid I'm going to have to
burden you one last time, With this,

I only ask that you do with it
as you see fit, Yours, Clive,

Nazim Malek is one of
the key terror suspects

we are holding without charge.

- What do you want me to do?
- I want you to release him.

- Get out of the way or I shoot the boy.
- You're playing a dangerous game.

You lose Malek and
we all go down with you.

- It's a risk I'm prepared to take.
- We can't take this any further.

No bullets below four
feet. There's a kid in there.

Zafar, this is Harry. I'm
ordering you to shoot the subject.

Shoot him.