All language subtitles for The Whistle Blower_en

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.