All language subtitles for The Man From U.N.C.L.E. S03E12 The Concrete Overcoat Affair (2)

In my family, when you
take away a dame's honor...

it's right you give
it back, capische?

- Yeah.
- And what is she, ugly?

No, she's lovely, Uncle
Fingers. It's backwards.

She's superb. She's beautiful. And
she's still possessed of her honor,

As far as I know.

Then shut up. You're
going to get married, period.

Why, half of the crumbs out there ain't
been out of the woodwork for 30 years.

- Yeah?
- But for this...

For the wedding of the Stilletto
brothers, why, you ought to be proud.

I'm not Italian, you know.

That's all right. Try
to be proud anyway.

Hey, you bubs, the bride-to-be.

Remember, those old duffers
in there may look harmless...

but I can assure you that
during the prohibition days...

they could have and would
have torn either one of you apart...

for the price of a cigar.

So be careful.

And, uh, we want Solo alive.

Right where you are.

Hands up, everyone.

Hey, what is this? What
do you bums think you are?

Oh, Mr. Strago.

Um, Mr. Stilletto, I, uh...

I hope you'll not mind too much, but
I've come to collect the bridegroom.

Mr. Solo.

So you do know him,
you liar. He is your man.

Come on now, Mr. Solo.

You don't really want
to get married, do you?

Well, uh...

Right now, I'm not
quite so sure about that.

Nobody draws on the Stilletto
brothers, Strago, nobody.

Down, down.

Stop firing, everyone!

I have in my hand a transistorized
double-gamma capsule grenade...

potent enough to blow
half this room apart!

Lay down your arms,
gentlemen. Please.

Mr. Solo, would
you step this way?

Oh, and the young
lady too, I think.

Uh, just as a bit of insurance.

Against renewed hostilities.

We'll get you for this, Strago!

I swear it on my honor!
On the code, I swear it!

Sorry to tear you away
from your friends, Mr. Solo...

but Central has dictated...

I'm to drag you and Mr. Kuryakin
along on a little journey.

I don't know why myself,
really. Interrogation, I suppose.

You've got Illya?

What there is left of him, yes.

Thrush Central doesn't need this girl.
I'm sure they couldn't care less about her.

I care, Mr. Solo.
After you, my dear.

No!

Now we got her in there...

Mr. Solo, will you get into the
car under your own power or...?

Aah! STRAGO: And
you keep her quiet.

Or I tuck you...

I'll be back, Pia.

Get him. Get him! After him.

Morning, Bill. - Morning.

We've traced Strago
and company...

at a privately owned little dot
of an island in the Caribbean.

From which point apparently...

they intend to launch the
missiles to divert the Gulf Stream.

- Unless we can prevent it.
- Precisely.

Sixteen hours from
now, Mr. Solo...

we will launch three entire
assault groups against this island.

Supported by B-52 bombers...

we'll reduce the island and
everything on it to rubble.

Sir?

They can't do that.

I beg your pardon.

Well, uh, Illya, sir.

Strago missed out with me.

If he's on that island,
he's got Illya with him.

Yes, yes. Yes, I
quite realize that.

All right, sir. Illya's
an agent, Section Two.

He's expendable just like the rest of
us. But what about the girl, Mr. Waverly?

- Pia Monteri.
- Yes, I read your report about her.

And, yes, I quite realize she's
probably on the island as well.

Sir...

Whether through my fault or
not, whether directly or indirectly...

I'm responsible for
that girl being there.

Illya's a volunteer.
He knows the risks.

But not that girl.

Are you an operative in
this organization, Mr. Solo?

If not, may I have your
credentials, please?

I'm sorry.

I'll get some coffee.

We'll demolish that island
within 16 hours, Mr. Solo.

And I give you my word there
won't be a living thing left on it.

So you won't have
time for coffee...

if you intend to get there in time to do
anything for those two young people.

Thank you, sir.

Alexander Waverly, heh:

Sentimental
grandmother of the year.

You'll not touch me, you hear?
- How odd it is.

I, who am impeccable...

who cannot abide that which
smacks of the common, the grimy.

How is it...

that I would want to bring
you with me to this island?

You, who embody all
that is vulgar in the world.

Ah, ah, ah, you
stay away, you hear?

You fascinate me.

You'll no touch me.
You'll no touch me.

Ah, Fräulein.

You go to see Herr Strago?

Taking him some orders
we just received from Central.

Will you tell him, please...

the magnetron is activated
perfectly by the heavy water.

Good.

And if these very clever
and charming young ladies...

keep on as they are, the
missiles will be armed...

and ready for lowering in
the launching room by tonight.

- I'll tell him, doctor. VON
KRONEN: Uh, Fräulein Diketon.

Uh, yes?

I must tell you...

I cannot forget how beautifully
you tortured that U.N.C.L.E. agent.

- Oh.
- I...

I would like you
to know that I...

I admire you very much.

Bravo!

Oh, that's awfully sweet.

From a real
professional like you.

Oh, thank you.
Thank you very much.

You touch me, I'll jump.

Would you really?

Yes, I would, really.

How dare you?

I did knock, sir, twice.

It didn't occur to me that you
might be occupied, with that.

Don't be absurd, Miss Diketon.

Disgusting creature.

So that's why they...

They wanted me to keep
that U.N.C.L.E. agent alive.

Miss Diketon?

Go see to it that Kuryakin
is brought up here at once.

Please.

At once, Miss Diketon.

Mr. Kuryakin.

Thrush Central has decreed that I'm
to keep you alive and in good health.

Does that, uh...?

- Does that surprise you,
Mr. Kuryakin? ILLYA: Are you all right?

I'm speaking!

To you, Mr. Kuryakin.

Yes, I'm quite
surprised. May I ask why?

Well, you'll find that out
in due course. Meanwhile...

Yes? MAN: Orange alert, sir.

Fifteen-mile perimeter, coming
straight in from the mainland side.

- Good rate of speed,
sir. STRAGO: Um, uh...

Set the barrier. I'll,
uh, come up personally.

You may as well come too,
Mr. Kuryakin, under the...

Under the, uh, circumstances...

there's no reason why you
shouldn't be given the guided tour.

You, my dear, will stay here.

Please.

See that she does.

Sit down, sweetie.

So, Mr. Kuryakin...

while much of America and
Europe are becoming icy wastes...

Greenland will become Thrushland and,
uh, we shall all live happily ever after.

What's to prevent other countries
from destroying Thrushland?

That's what I brought
you here to see.

- Uh, how close?
- Uh, 10.5 miles, sir.

Activate the barrier at 10 miles.
- Roger.

Call Dr. Von Kronen and
ask him to meet me here...

after this quick demonstration.

Yes, oh.

Here, take a look, Mr. Kuryakin.

In the bowels of this island...

there are over 100,000,
um, tuning forks...

all ready to vibrate at
the top of their lungs.

Their cumulative vibration
is joined together...

and funneled up in a single
channel to that, uh... Yes.

To that reflecting disk.

Activate the barrier, captain.

Barrier activated, sir.

Focus in on that approaching
vessel, Mr. Kuryakin.

Now, pretend we're already
on Greenland... Um, Thrushland.

And the United Nations
has sent that vessel to, uh...

To destroy us.

Now, captain!

You're mad in the
head, signorina.

I wouldn't even spit
at Signor Strago.

I'm not afraid of you.

You let me out of here, or
I'll cut you up like a chicken.

Oh, yes.

I think you should
try to escape.

In fact, I'm going to
love you trying to escape.

No knives, Signorina
Knife Lady, huh?

Take her up to her cell.

Go ahead, doctor.

Well, there are only
two things, Herr Strago.

Both of...

Yes, doctor?

Both of which
concern the fact...

that these rooms and
this launching tube...

are located 75 feet
below sea level.

Uh, first, the tremendous water
pressure against these outer doors...

You needn't worry
about that, professor.

When the missiles
are ready for launching,

the, uh, tube will be
adequately pressurized.

- Mr. Strago.
- Heh, I don't intend to drown my people.

Mr. Strago.

Your second point?

I would advise that we
advance our timetable.

Say, 12 hours?

By launching the missiles sooner,
we can take advantage of the tides.

If you can get them ready that
soon, we'll launch them that soon.

Please, Mr. Strago.

I told you to keep
that girl here...

and I return to find her on her
way out, wielding my letter opener...

and you flat on your back
like some rank amateur.

Oh, but, Mr. Strago,
it was an accident...

You have failed in your job!

Thrush Central does
not tolerate failure.

You're sick, Miss Diketon.

Even for Thrush, you
are very, very sick.

You're aware, of
course, that, uh...

my superior is arriving tonight to
approve the plans, uh, and wish us well.

I shall ask him to, uh,
have you transferred.

For rehabilitation, if possible.

Transferred?

Tran...? Away from you?

With an unsatisfactory a
rating as I can possibly give you.

For I am sick too.

Sick of the very sight of
you and your unclean mind...

which corrupts the
very air I breathe.

Well, um, dismissed,
Miss Diketon.

Each missile will be numbered...

and each will travel
approximately one mile farther...

than the one launched before.

Yes?

We've got another vessel
within the 15-mile perimeter.

Larger and slower.
Fishing boat, probably.

Don't use the sound
barrier this time.

I don't want, uh, the debris to
bring the search planes into the area.

Uh, we're launching
the missiles tonight?

Yes. And, uh, I don't
want any delays.

Use the, um... Use
the patrol boat this time.

Well, just toss me
back in, will you?

- We'll call it even.
- Some of our old pals...

have traced Strago's boat from
Chicago down through the Gulf.

Now, we know he's on
that island. Why ain't you?

He's a pal of yours, ain't he?

No, uh, not exactly, no.

And where's Pia? Is
she on the island too?

- Where's our niece, punk?
- Look, you wanna see Pia safe, so do I.

If you wanna get out to that island,
you'd better know how to swim.

Because they got doozey of a weapon...
- Shut up, bridesgroom.

We want Strago. We
want Pia and Strago!

Yeah, I know your vendetta. Well,
you just can't go galumphing into...

Look, let's get
in out of the sun.

I'll tell all a nice story
about the Gulf Stream...

and nuclear missiles and a
wicked little bird called Thrush.

How about it?

A little bird called what?

I am sorry I cause such
trouble for Signor Solo.

But now you tell me
he's a policeman, huh?

Now I understand.

- No, we're not policemen, uh...
- And you, I cause trouble for you too.

Now you must worry about
my life as well as your own.

You know, you are
a nice man. I like you.

I like you too.

- You... You're not Italian, eh?
- No.

- Pity, isn't it?
- Heh, no, it doesn't matter.

It's just that the grandma, you
know, she says, always, uh...

Hey, you.

Hurry up, I only have a minute.

If I help you get
free, what then?

Who wants to know?

Listen to me, Illya.
Strago, I hate him.

I wanna see him fail. I
wanna see him crawl.

And then I'd like
to kill him slowly.

- I'd like to...
- You said you only had a minute.

There'll be a party tonight.

I think you're supposed to
provide some of the entertainment.

Promise me you'll help
me destroy Louis Strago...

and I'll help you
get free, yes or no?

- What about Pia? I won't leave...
- Just you, I said. Yes or no. Quickly.

- Yes.
- Good.

Well, that's the
story, gentlemen.

In a very few hours, my friends are
going to be coming to level that island.

- So if we're, uh...
- Hey, Feet, Fingers, Pretty.

Looks like maybe
we got some visitors.

Coming straight
out from the island.

Probably a patrol boat.

Try rumrunning for a while, kid.

You learn how to handle
patrol boats pretty well.

You remember, guys? Heh, heh.

All right, come
on, let's get ready.

You are in restricted waters.

Please turn all hands to and
prepare to be boarded for inspection.

Scissors, Scissors!

Scissors, Scissors.

Stop firing.

- I give up.
- He's dead.

Thirty-five years,
I know this bum.

And now you killed him!

Hold it, hold it.

I'll kill you,
you... I'll kill you.

If you don't want us to
turn him loose, my friend...

then I'd suggest you take
us to your little island home.

Oh, you're in for a bad evening.

All right, Crunch, that boat may be
our only transportation out of here.

We need a good
man to stay with it.

Don't worry. Me and
the boat'll be here.

- All right.
- Good luck.

Don't sleep. That
ain't Lake Michigan.

Will you stop worrying?

Down.

- What's he doing?
- It's a bigwig from Thrush Central.

Mr. Strago's boss.

The Man in the Green
Hat, they call him.

Oh, coming for
the kick-off, huh?

Okay, gentlemen. We've got
a long walk. Let's get it done.

A great privilege,
Professor Von Kronen.

We at Thrush Central are
grateful for your help, sir.

Oh, professor, this is Mr. Thaler,
my, uh, heh, immediate superior.

- I'm honored.
- Oh, the faithful Miss Diketon.

- More beautiful than ever.
- Oh, thank you, sir.

You'd be a fortunate man,
Strago, if you were human.

Oh, uh, that U.N.C.L.E. agent...

- I trust you've still got him.
- Yes, of course, sir.

Good. I'll be wanting
to chat with him a bit...

to sort of, uh,
prelude, you might say.

Uh, oh, in that
case, Mr. Thaler...

I'll go have the guards clean
him up a little before you meet him.

- Splendid, my dear. Run along.
- I'll be joining you at the party.

She is adorable.

- A party? In my honor?
- Yes, naturally, sir.

Uh, Mr. Thaler...

I'm afraid I've had to write a distinctly
unfavorable fitness report on Miss Diketon.

I'd, uh, like to request her
transfer out of my command.

That bad?

- Incorrigible, sir, and
irreparably corrupt.

Well, well, we certainly can't
have corruption in Thrush, can we?

But don't transfer her, Strago. Just
kill her and have done with it, will you?

Save all that
annoying paperwork.

Now, would you show me to
my room? I'd like to freshen up.

Just the young man.

Come on. ILLYA: Pia, I...

How fortunate we don't have to
make her presentable for Mr. Thaler.

Probably couldn't be done.

Take him to the assembly
elevator. Get him cleaned up, at least.

Everyone's upstairs at the party,
waiting for the main attraction.

That's you, Mr. Kuryakin.

Ooh, that was lovely.

I'm going back for Pia.

That's not only
nauseating, it's insane.

There's a fast patrol boat anchored
on the other side of the island.

- I said I am going back for Pia.
- But you can't do that. We have to...

Herr Strago wasn't
wrong after all.

And I, who came here
to warn you about him...

must now go on to
warn him about you!

Shoot him.

I almost feel sorry for him.

You see, the doctor,
we were soul mates.

Is there another way out of here?
- The other elevator.

You better change
into the guard's uniform.

- Hi.
- Hi, there.

You know, I'm getting tired of
violence. Your uniform, I thought, uh...

- Yes, yes, so did
I. SOLO: Sorry.

I said I was sorry.

I mean, how did I know you'd have
the brains to get free on your own?

I bring Lucrezia Borgia,
and you bring the Mafia.

Ha, we're in great shape.

I trust it was no imposition.

On the contrary. It was a
pleasure to get Kuryakin.

My only regret is that we
couldn't bring Solo as well.

Well, one is better than none.

You do understand, Strago.

Here, I've ordered the deaths of
any number of U.N.C.L.E. agents...

and I've never witnessed
a single execution.

I don't wanna get a reputation
as strictly a desk man, you know.

- I want to be with my troops.
- Oh, I understand fully, sir.

And Kuryakin's death, which I assure
you will be a unique one, ha, ha...

should be a nice
climax to the party.

A pièce de résistance,
if you will. Ha, ha.

Something wrong, Strago?

No, sir. No, sir,
nothing that, uh...

Nothing that can't
be taken care of. Heh.

Excuse me.

The scum, where is he?

Who let him out? Answer me.

Answer me!

Yellow alert.

See to it that the U.N.C.L.E. agent
is tracked down and brought to me.

He can't get far on this island.

And, guard, Miss Diketon.

I want to see her too.

Wonderful party, Strago. Haven't
enjoyed myself so much in years.

Very happy, sir. Heh.

Oh, uh, there's been a slight delay
in readying the special equipment...

for the, uh, U.N.C.L.E.
agent's grand finale.

May I suggest that we, uh, postpone
his performance until after the launch?

You do have a sense of the
theatrical, my dear Strago.

Frankly, I never thought
you had it in you. Ha-ha-ha.

Thank you. Uh, I'm afraid we
have to break up the party, sir.

There's, uh... There is
some work to do, you know?

Oh, to be sure. Where
do we go from here?

Well, uh, may I show
you the facilities?

They're really quite
impressive, you know.

We got your buddy, right?

Okay, so all we gotta do now is to
grab Pia and get back to the boat.

Yeah, when your bombers
get here, what is it, three hours...

we'll be 50 miles away.

That was the original
intention, gentlemen.

It's not quite that
simple anymore.

What do you mean, it ain't
quite that simple anymore?

Well, for one thing, if my
playmate is telling the truth...

Strago has changed
his timetable.

In three hours, half those missiles
will already have been launched.

It's true. CAPTAIN:
What's the difference?

With our sound-wave barrier...

it makes no difference whether
your bombers get here on time or not.

- Who asked you, Fauntleroy? SOLO:
As it happens, he's probably right.

I really never liked you.

Now, we got three
things to do: rescue Pia...

destroy that sound-barrier contraption
and stop the launching of the missiles.

Is that all? SOLO: Hmm.

Now, look at this map here that
Fauntleroy has so graciously given us.

Now, here's the launching area.

We can get to it by either
of these two elevators.

Well below sea level.

- I'll take care of that end.
- I'll take you part of the way.

I wish your motives were nobler.

Now, the control of the
sound barrier is in the tower.

I'll go up there with your help.

What about Pia? - Yeah, Pia.

Yeah, that's what I want to find out.
- Shh.

The cells are here.
One level down.

I'll stop there first and
bring her up to you.

There won't be time for that.

Look, I'm helping you
because I wanna see Strago fail.

I wanna see him crawl for
the miserable insect he is.

But I will not risk my life for
that sniveling little peasant girl...

Watch your mouth, baby. I'll
put a grapefruit in it for you.

- Yeah.
- Don't worry, there'll be time.

And what'll we be doing?

Sit around reading
poems to each other?

I hope not. I'll be up in the
tower and Illya will be down here.

And I suspect there'll be a great
number of little Thrushies in between.

Excuse me, fellows.

You got a light?

My lighter busted and I'm clear
out of matches. Just clear out.

Heh, heh. Thank you, pal.

- Very nice.
- Used to be our living.

Keep the courtyard clear. They
might bring in reinforcements.

- Gee, I hope so.
- Let's get up to the tower.

Come on. Move out.

Hey, when you get up there, pull
every wire on that sound barrier thing.

All right, good luck
down in the basement.

How long is it before
they launch those missiles?

Any time now.

- Is that the elevator?
- No, it's over here.

Now, that elevator will,
uh, carry the missiles...

numbered and armed
into the storage room.

And, uh, in exactly, uh,
yes, nine and a half minutes...

the first load will be leaving the
storage room going through the tunnel...

and into the launching room.

- Uh, following that, sir...
- Excellent, excellent.

You're a bit of a pompous
boor, my dear Mr. Strago...

but you do know your job.

Mr. Strago, please.
Communications line two.

Mr. Strago, please.

- Line two.
- Pardon me for a moment.

Certainly.

Strago speaking.

Sir, this is Williams,
Section L Enforcement.

Sorry to trouble you,
but I saw Miss Diketon...

What do you mean you didn't
recognize the guard that she was with?

Are you sure?

Yes, I see. All right, Williams!

Now, look, you get on the field telephone
and contact every one of the guard unit...

searching the island
for the U.N.C.L.E. agent.

We launch in about,
um, 10 minutes.

And I want every single
one of those men back here!

If you will excuse me, sir, I...

It appears that I'm, uh...

That I'm needed upstairs
for a minute or two.

Certainly. I'll go down to
the storage and launch level.

See how it's done.

Yes, I'll be working in
the launching apparatus.

Up in the control tower.
If you would rather...

No, no, Strago, no.

This is a big moment
for Thrush, ha.

I want to see that
first missile go.

Mr. Strago wants to see
the girl. Open up, please.

But he's already taken
her out, Miss Diketon.

- I think he's looking for you too.
- Oh, yes, I'm sure he is.

Drop it.

He must've taken her to his suite.
No, no, wait, there's no time for that.

They'll be launching
the missiles any minute.

You go downstairs and
I'll go up to Strago's suite.

Don't worry. I won't
hurt her if she's there.

I only care about Strago.

Illya, you go downstairs. Do
whatever you want to those missiles.

Destroy them, anything. My only interest
is watching Strago's face when you do it.

This time you will tell
me all that I want to know.

It's time you tell me.

- I don't know!
- You do know, and you will tell me!

- Tell me, tell me!
- I don't know.

There's more than one U.N.C.L.E.
agent on this island, isn't there?

Isn't there?

What are their plans, dear?

How do they hope
to stop me, dear?

Remember the time Bugs Moran told
us our presence was no longer desired?

I sure do.

Hello, Control Tower.

Captain? Control Tower.

- Captain?
- Yes, sir, Mr. Strago.

Yes, there seems to be
gunfire in the courtyard.

Is everything all
right up there?

Yes, sir.

Nothing wrong at all, sir.

Good, I'm coming up there immediately.
We're launching the missiles right now.

Mr. Strago.

Ugh!

- Hello there. ILLYA:
How do you do?

Uh, I'm Thaler. From Central.

- I'm, uh, honored, sir.
- Oh, yes?

You know, I was hoping one of
these fellows would show me around.

I'm afraid they're
much too busy.

And I certainly wouldn't want
to interrupt their concentration.

Uh, could you, uh,
give me a sort of tour?

Show me how it works.

- Uh, it would be a pleasure.
- Oh, good, thank you.

This is Mr. Thaler
of Thrush Central.

Stay still. You're hurt.

You're helping me?

Look, you, uh, get out of here.

Your uncles are waiting,
uh, in the courtyard. That way.

- And you?
- No, I'm fine.

You just get out of here.

Where's the launching apparatus?

What launches the
missiles, captain?

What, captain?

I'm sorry. They had me prisoner...
- Never mind that now!

Attention, Launching
Room, attention!

But of course, sir. All this
equipment is now controlled...

Missile number one
ready to be launched.

Outer hatch now open.

Do you mean this
inner hatch here...

is the only thing that keeps
the ocean from coming in on us?

Missile will be fired
in exactly 60 seconds.

Yes, that's about
the size of it.

Uh, if you'll excuse me, I'll give
you a graphic demonstration.

Twenty seconds.

Fifteen seconds.

Ten seconds.

Five seconds.

Hello. Launching Room, hello?

Launching Room?

Hello?

Hello? Hello?

Hello, Launching Room?

Why don't you answer me down
there? What's wrong down there?

Hello?

There's no... There's no
power. There's no reaction at all.

Get them on the
other phone, go. Hello?

Launching Room, answer me.
Hello? Launching Room, hello!

Why don't you answer me?

Hello? Launching Room, hello?

Hello? Kill him. Kill him.

Kill him! Hello?

Kill him. Kill him!

Kill him!

Solo!

Mr. Solo, come
down now, Mr. Solo.

- Ha! Mr. Solo, now...
- Mr. Strago.

Oh, the pain.

I saw you fail.

I saw you die.

Ahem, how are you?

Pooped.

Where's Pia? Have you seen her?

- No, I thought...
- Come on.

Grandmother would be
so proud of you. Ha, ha.

Hey, I got a confession. I
didn't enjoy this like I thought.

Yeah, not like the good old
days. It ain't like it used to be.

Hey, wait a minute. One,
two, three, four, five, six, seven.

Why don't we send these guys
a Saint Valentine's Day card?

Just for a present, huh?

Hey, that's a good idea!

Now you're talking. All
right, you guys, turn around.

Face the wall.
Keep your hands up.

Shh!

- Just one thing.
- Hmm.

We better leave before
the bombers get here.

Do we have to swim?

Grandmamma
Monteri, you're a genius.

You're among the immortals.
Chicago is going to love you.

Hey, hey.

Keep your hands where
they belong, blondie.

- Aah!
- You too, kid.

We share our food with you.
We share our wine with you.

And that's all we
share, punks. Right?

Right. GRANDMAMMA: Right.

It seems to me, gentlemen,
you met your match at last.