All language subtitles for The Man From U.N.C.L.E. S01E28 The Girls of Nazarone Affair

Gardénias. Gardénias,
madame et monsieur.

Gardénias. Gardénias,
madame et monsieur.

Gardénias, madame?

I wonder, monsieur, whether
I may take your picture.

It would be an honor
to pose for madame.

Does madame wish to
pay a little something?

For the taking of
the photograph.

Would you take this,
please? For contrast.

Ouch!

Hold it, please.

Thank you very much.

- Oh, pardon.
- Quite all right.

Madame, you forgot your corsage.

I do love the Riviera.

You just like blonds.

Brunettes.

Dr. Kellwin's room, please.
- Kellwin's.

Room 221.

But he has checked out
only this morning, monsieur.

Are you positive?

Quite positive.

And no forwarding address.

May I see his room please.

I'm sorry, that is quite
impossible, monsieur.

Well, there you are, old boy.

Take care!

Hello.

Hello?

This is Lavinia Brown in 221.

There are two strange
men in my room.

Could you please send
someone up right away?

Thank you.

There, now.

I said, "There, now."

It's mechanic's grease
spot here and another.

There's another one here.

I don't suppose you're a
racing driver, Ms. Brown?

Just the raciest teacher at
the Pikes Fall Grammar School.

That's not saying
very much, I'm afraid.

Now, if you don' t mind...

Mademoiselle.

Would you please show
these gentlemen out?

When was the last time
you had a mechanic here?

Mechanic, monsieur?

Last year, I believe.

Two members of the British team.

Would you mind discussing
this in someone else's room?

Thank you. If we need
anything, we'll give you a buzz.

Oui, monsieur. Merci beaucoup.

Don't you dare move from here.

Napoleon.

Now, see here, Mr. Napoleon.

Solo. Excuse me.

Ah, yes. Something heavy
was either hauled up to...

or lowered down
from this balcony.

And recently.

- Is there anything else?
- Yes, this.

I found it wedged in
the drainpipe there.

- It isn't weathered.
- Ugh!

- Get a doctor.
- Get a doctor.

The gardenia vendor.

He looks a little dead.

Yeah, quite dead.

- I wonder...?
- So do I.

Look where that flower stand is.

Now, from this
balcony, obviously...

there's some very funny
things have been going on.

Coincidental, isn't it?

Too much so.

I wonder what he'd seen.

Mr. Solo.

Coming, Ms. Brown

Who has the room above this one?

Why, I believe it is unoccupied.

The guest checked
out this morning.

Naturally. Thank you.

Your fleeing friend
had an excellent idea.

Your room is ready
now, Ms. Brown.

- Mr. Solo.
- Mm-hm.

Do glance at it
from time to time.

Flash cards still work
with children of all ages.

Pardon. Pardon, s'il vous plaît.

Excuse me, I'm a doctor.

Please, would you stand back.

Would you ask them
to please stand back.

Pulse?

No pulse.

Heartbeat?

Oh, no heartbeat.

Please circulate.

Twenty-five thousand francs.

Not bad for a
peddler of gardenias.

Oh, well, he paid
rather dearly for it.

You sure it was poison?

Methylated cobrox.

The flower in his
hand reeked of it.

So, what report do we
send to Mr. Waverly?

Listen, hold off on that call.

Listen, what was the formula
Dr. Kellwin was working on?

Why did he want U.N.C.L.E.'s
protection in the first place?

Well, obviously, the formula he
was working on disappeared with him.

Wait a minute.

What is it?

That disk we found
down on the balcony...

I knew I'd seen
something like it before.

It's a modification disk for
a solenoid on a racing car.

A big one, I think.

Mechanic's grease on the floor,
solenoid disk for a racing car.

Well, Illya, how many garages do you think
there are on this part of the Riviera?

This, I believe,
makes number 15.

Anyone home?

Hello?

Hello?

Hello. Hello.

Hello. Someone's home.

The garage is closed, gentlemen.

Yeah, we were just wondering,
are you the owner here or...?

That is my racing
car. I am Nazarone.

The garage is, I repeat,
closed, gentlemen.

Oh, you being a
lady race driver...

perhaps you can tell us
what the blazes this is?

My friend here says it's from a
Bugatti, but I say it's from a Delahaye.

I have told him to put his
money where his mouth is.

My buddy here is
Russian, you see.

He's very stubborn
about things like this.

And how did you
come by this, may I ask?

I don't know. He picked it up
in the street in front of the Louis.

Tovarich here, he always
thinks that he knows...

I'm sorry, gentlemen.

I'm afraid I've never seen a
solenoid disk of this type before.

And now if you will excuse me and
allow me to carry on with my work.

Yeah. Hey, baby, you got
some pretty wild wheels there.

The garage is closed, gentlemen.

You recognize anything in there?

Anything or anyone?

The car.

It's the one she was
driving when her friend

took a picture of
the gardenia vendor.

Yeah, let's take a look
around here, shall we?

Speak of the devil.

Our picture-snapping,
fashion plate friend.

And her all-girl orchestra.

You are ready, Nazarone?

I do not know.

To die in a racing accident,
that is one thing, but this...

Nonsense. Dr. Baurel
prepared you.

Yes, he has.

Then take your position.

Start your motors.

Did you see that gun?

Yeah, there's only one kind of
army that issues that type of weapon.

- Thrush?
- Yeah.

Gone?

Ms. Brown, about our
barging in on you yesterday...

Do not disturb.

I will not ask. I will assume
Mr. Waverly loved our report.

Napoleon, how do you
feel about hallucination?

Why?

We saw an extremely
attractive female racing driver...

become thoroughly
murdered, did we not?

- We did not.
- No.

Early edition.

"Renowned female
racing driver, Nazarone...

entered the Baurel
Clinic last evening...

for a final checkup
before next week's...

race."

Is it possible monsieur
did not hear the nurse?

Actually, yes, I did. She has
excellent lungs, you know...

but my high school French...
Difficult to understand.

Sorry, girls, but
I'm spoken for.

You again.

Signor, I neither know
you nor like your face.

I've paid for a
private room here.

I do not know what
you're seeking...

I am seeking to find out why you are
not a might more chilly than you are.

- Chilly?
- Chilly.

Seems to me the last time I saw
you you were rather well-ventilated...

by a number of bullets.

Obviously, you are mistaken.

Confused...

not mistaken.

You're not being very feminine.

May I ask what you are doing
here, monsieur, exciting my patient?

I'm terribly sorry, doctor. What
seems to be your patient's trouble?

Malnutrition, loss of energy,
vitamin deficiency or...?

The condition of any patient is
always highly confidential, monsieur.

He is a stranger
to me, Dr. Baurel.

Yet for a reason I do not
know, he visited me once before.

Last night at the garage.

This young lady is here for a
complete, routine physical checkup...

and absolute relaxation.

Now, if you'll be kind enough
to leave my clinic, monsieur.

Oh, okay, fellas.

All right, all right.
Listen, guys...

Nazarone wasn't
there, of course.

Alive?

And definitely kicking.

But that's impossible.

She had her own personal
Saint Valentine's Day Massacre.

Oh, she's still there.

Bored, lonesome and doggedly
determined to enjoy every minute of it.

I've been thinking...

that formula Dr. Kellwin developed,
it's supposed to be a serum, isn't it?

To accelerate the normal healing
processes of the human body.

Well, if you saw Nazarone alive and
kicking after we saw Thrush kill her...

Yep. Obviously,
Thrush got there...

and got both Kellwin and
his formula before we did.

That accounts for that messy
scene in the hotel balcony.

And they injected some
of it into their girl Nazarone.

And then shot her...

to see if the
stuff really works.

Apparently, it does.

Bizarre little
beggars, aren't they?

And now they're going to take
the formula home with them.

Unless...

Unless Thrush believes that
somebody else has Kellwin's formula.

Suppose we keep them
around here for a day or two...

trying to guarantee
their exclusivity.

Please, speak English.

Well, we were too late to
get the formula from Kellwin.

Maybe we can
get it from Thrush...

if we keep them around
long enough to get a shot at it.

That's a rather large "if."

Oh, I don't know.

Hi, there.

Hey, don't call
the porter again.

If I were to say to you that you
were someone special to me...

what would you think?

I'd think that my suspicions were
confirmed, that's what I'd think.

You're an escaped maniac.

If you don't mind, I'd like
to finish my postcards.

Lavinia Brown, you and I
have a rendezvous with destiny.

Stay away from me!

"U-N-C-L..." Hey.

You're one of those
international thingamabobs.

Yes, who needs your help.

My help?

Fifth-grade geography,
history and social studies.

Oh, come on, Mr. Solo.

I just wanna finish my
postcards and go to sleep.

It's really very nice that you're
not a real maniac and all that.

You just relax.

You must have been a rollicking
success at the Baurel Clinic.

- Hi.
- Oh, good.

One of you learned
how to knock on a door.

There is presently a
charming blond creature...

crawling around under both
our beds, planting microphones.

Shall we go up
and embarrass her?

Let's not disturb the
sweet little thing, shall we?

In a short time, we will
have plenty of things...

for Thrush to eavesdrop on.

- How did the security check come out?
- Well...

Here we are. 527 Maple
Street, Pike Falls, Arizona.

- That's my address.
- Unmarried. Not engaged.

Father's name: Charles Edward.

- Mother's name: Gertrude.
- Stop that.

Does teach fifth grade and
the Pike Falls Travel Bureau...

That's my very own private
information in that thing.

Now, you stay out of there.

Security precautions
are necessary, Ms. Brown.

She's all right. SOLO: Hm.

Twenty-five thousand dollars.

I want you to deposit it in the
morning and start spending it.

Buy things, expensive things:

Clothes, cars, fur
coats, wolfhounds.

Literally, throw
your money around.

- My money?
- All yours.

On one condition:

Keep away from
women with blond hair.

We'll take care of the rest.

The rest of what?

All right, we know where
the microphones are.

Let's check for booby traps.

I say you're wrong.

Thrush went through a lot of
trouble to get that copy of the formula.

If Kellwin had left another
copy they'd have secured it...

before the girl who
moved in found it.

Lavinia Brown quoted
me a part of the formula.

Well, I still say you don't
pay someone $ 100,000...

for something you
haven't even seen yet.

We'll see it. She won't
get the rest of that money...

unless she delivers the
formula to us tomorrow night.

It's infuriating. That sweet,
innocent face of hers.

Lavinia Brown, indeed.

Whatever else she is, she's a
dangerous, sly young woman.

But at least Thrush won't be
the only one with the formula.

Unless Thrush hangs
around this little paradise...

and nails our lovely Ms. Brown.

How could they? They'd
have to find out about her first.

To Ms. Lavinia Brown.

Just the microphones.

Can't find anything that
goes "hiss," "boom" or "bang."

How very un-diabolical of them.

This can't be a very
well-disciplined Thrush satrap.

It's just as well, we need
a good night's rest anyway.

Uh...

What was the name of that
poison that killed the flower vendor?

Methylated cobrox.

Methylated cobrox.

Well, thanks for renting me the
place, Ms. Sophie. It's so beautiful.

And I thank you, mademoiselle.
You'll be moving in tomorrow perhaps?

What? To my own cottage
on the Riviera? Tonight.

But of course.

Well, thanks again for renting me
the place. Bonjour and everything.

Ah!

What's the matter with you?

Forgive me, wealthy lady, but
I had to make sure it was you.

Now, if you don't mind,
I have to kidnap you.

You what?

Since we've made
our point with Thrush...

the time has come to deposit you
somewhere out of the line of fire.

- For your own protection.
- Protection?

What's a "thrush"?

You mean there are
some people somewhere...

who are looking for
me with evil intent?

There's nothing to fret about
as long as we keep you hidden...

and you don't talk to any
blonds. You haven't, have you?

Oh, no. No. The real
estate lady was a brunette.

- Hello.
- Illya, is she back?

Yes. Where are you?

Okay, hocus-pocus,
make her disappear.

I'm on my way back
to Dr. Baurel's clinic.

Right. Ms. Brown and I are
about to drop out of the picture.

Good luck.

"Out of the picture"? Where?

There's a little village
in the Alpes-Maritimes.

Should do very nicely.

The Alps? But it's freezing in the
Alps. What about my new cottage?

No, definitely not.

Well, I absolutely refuse to be found
frozen to death in some craggy, old Alps.

Here's your cottage. I
hope it makes you happy.

Won't you come in? ILLYA: No!

You've got that sweet, innocent
business down pretty pat, haven't you?

Help the gentleman up.

Throw it away.

We know that you were to deliver
your copy of Dr. Kellwin's formula...

to U.N.C.L.E. this evening.

You will deliver it to me now.

Or I promise you, you
won't ever see the evening.

- You don't understand. Honest, I don't...
- Honest, you don't.

Then where, may I ask, did you get
the sudden wealth to rent this cottage...

and to buy the shiny, new
car that's sitting outside?

It won't work, Lavinia.

"Lavinia." My goodness, it sounds
like a spinster schoolteacher.

Now, see here, you...

Shall we?

We're taking Little Miss
Muffet here to the clinic.

Get rid of him.

Clinic?

I've never had so
much energy in my life.

I feel marvelous

What's the matter?

- Has Madame Streigau returned yet?
- No, she's due any moment.

She just telephoned to say she was bringing
the American girl in for interrogation.

I think we have
an uninvited guest.

What's up, doc?

You. What right have you...

- to come sneaking in here...?
- No, no, no.

Nobody likes a
tattletale, doctor.

What do you mean?

First, you tell me
about Dr. Kellwin.

He died of natural
causes. I... I swear it.

She was furious when he died.

She?

Come on, talk, little man.

Dr. Egret. She calls herself
"Madame Streigau" here.

Dr. Egret. That is
a name I do know.

Another identity,
another face...

but always Thrush.

You expect me to believe
with Thrush involved...

that Dr. Kellwin died
of natural causes.

- Come on, doctor.
- No, it's true.

They found the formula in his briefcase
when they took him from the room.

But they only intended
to hold him long enough...

to test the serum on Nazarone.

But the doctor, he...

He just... Just died.

He simply wasted away.

It seems a burnt out shell.

Severe exhaustion,
perhaps. I don't know.

Oh, so you took over...

and prepared the serum
for Dr. Egret, née Streigau...

and her Thrush
friends to test Nazarone.

Well, I was going to lose
my clinic to creditors and...

they paid me very well.

All right. That's all I
wanted to know, doctor.

What do you mean?

What do you want?

Oh, what I want is
to kill you, doctor.

But why? Why? I merely put
the serum together for them.

Exactly. And U.N.C.L.E.
also has the serum.

So if you're not around
to prepare it for Thrush...

we're firstest with
the mostest. So...

No, I can... I can mix the
serum for you. I will work.

Doctor, we don't need you.

I will get you Thrush's
copy of the formula.

I know where it is.
It's the only copy.

Now, you take me to
Nazarone's garage, I'll show you.

All right. Come on, come on.

Stop it right,
Nazarone. You'll kill him.

- What's come over you?
- Strength, doctor.

Strength that sings inside
me like a racing engine.

Let go of him. Madame
will want him alive.

Let go.

Perhaps when madame
is through with this one...

she will leave him for me.

Nazarone, what is the
matter with you, huh?

For me to tear apart
with my bare hands.

Madame, one of our
U.N.C.L.E. friends...

has been attempting
to question Dr. Baurel.

We have detained him.

Ask Dr. Baurel to prepare
an injection for this lady.

She seems a bit
reluctant to cooperate.

It's true that Thrush
already has the formula...

as evidenced by Nazarone's rapid recovery
from the bullet wounds in her body.

But we must make sure
that no one else has it.

Exclusivity brings the
highest price, as you know.

Of course, Madame Streigau.

You're working your way up in the
world through the use the pseudonyms.

Is that right...

Dr. Egret?

Stand still, Nazarone.
What's the matter with you?

- Doctor, prepare it, please.
- No.

Merely a little
Pentothal, my dear.

A truth serum. Harmless, really.

Unless of course
it were to prove...

that you don't have
a copy of the formula.

Then it could be
fatal, I'm afraid.

Are you ready, doctor?

No! No! No!

The formula, you received
money for it, Lavinia.

Oh, yes. Money.

Marvelous.

What must you do
to get your money?

Where must you go
tonight to earn your money?

Earn my money.

History, geography.

Teaching little
boys and little girls.

And now $25,000...

for doing nothing.

Nothing?

"Just have a ball.

We'll do the rest," he says.

Who said?

Nice, pretty, Mr. Solo.

The mattresses will
float for a few moments.

Then they will
become saturated...

and you will sink to
the bottom, slowly.

There will be no
marks on your bodies...

only salt water in your lungs...

from your accidental
drowning in the Mediterranean.

Oh, well, easy come, easy go.

All right, girls.

Salt concentrate, huh?

Hey, Lavinia, don't
move around so much.

You'll go under faster.

Where's Dr. Baurel?

Nazarone was all worked
up. The doctor went after her.

Get him.

He mustn't be out of my sight...

until he's finished with the
formula and I'm finished with him.

Stop. Nazarone,
where are you going?

One cannot just sit around
when one feels like this.

Come, little man.

We take a ride around
the concourse, huh?

Oh, my hair.

Did you bring a car?

Yes, Lavinia's new one.
Where do you want to go?

To the garage.

Baurel let it slipped that
the formula was there.

Come on.

What's the matter with Nazarone?
She must be mad driving off like that.

- Something has been happening to her...
- They've escaped, Madame.

Hold on to your hats.

The concourse area on the road to town
has already been sealed off for the race.

Stupid fools. Can't anything be
done right unless I do it myself?

Get the car.

But we can't overtake Nazarone's
racing car. We don't know...

Blast Nazarone and
the prisoners and Baurel.

We will go back to town to the
garage, pick up the formula...

and leave the rest of them
to the devil of each other.

I'm burning up inside.

What have you done
to me with your serum?

What have you done?

There goes the fellas
in the black hats again.

Everybody out. It's
Madame Streigau herself.

And headed into town.

We seem to have lost our fatal
charms. She didn't even stop to shoot us.

She's after the formula.

And Nazarone is running a race,
using this part of the concourse.

I'll go after Streigau. You stop
Nazarone and get Baurel back.

How do you suppose I
stop that female rocket?

Why don't you try showing
him your legs, all right?

Come on, Lavinia.
We have work to do.

Is this Nazarone?

What...? What
happened to her face?

The formula.

Kellwin's serum.

It speeded the rate of
metabolism to such an extent...

that she just used
herself up from inside.

Burnt herself out.

That's what happened to Kellwin.

I'm sure of it now.

Now we know about
Kellwin's formula.

It accelerates
recovery, all right.

And it goes on accelerating until
you're devoured by your own energy.

Is she...?

I mean...

She was dead the minute
the serum entered her body.

Ladies... Come
on, back off, girls.

Now, ladies. Girls.

Ladies. Good girls. Come on.

Gentlemen's discretion. Ah!

Come on, girls, please.

Dr. Egret.

Think we'll ever know
what she looks like?

Today she's Madame Streigau
and tomorrow Sadie Kornblatt.

I can understand how you feel.

I'd be miserable, too, if I had
to explain to Mr. Waverly...

how I let Dr. Egret and the
formula get away from me.

Hi, fellas. I'll be
leaving in about an hour.

I shall be driving to Paris
in my own new, stylish car.

Napoleon, what's the matter?

Well, that formula is not the
end of the world, you know.

And after all, you did
manage to subdue...

those two poor, defenseless,
innocent girls finally.

Thank you.

Why are you so concerned
about that formula?

If I were you, I'd be hoping those
Thrush people would feed it...

to every single one
of their personnel.

What was that?

Uh, Lavinia, would you
care for something to drink?

I mean, really, Napoleon,
after all, the stuff is deadly.

- Oh, is that right, Illya?
- Yes.

- Didn't I mention it?
- No, no, no.

You didn't mention that. No.

Oh, I'm sorry, but
I couldn't resist it.

And after all, you did
say you like blonds.

Hold it.