All language subtitles for MrSWr5E14.From.Russia.With.Blood.

Oh, please, somebody! Stop that man!

Lock all doors!

Stop where you are!

Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

I am Lieutenant Alexandrov, K.G.B.

- Do you know what this is? - M-microfilm.

The redhead at Charles’ table was ordered to leave the country.

Am I being officially charged with a crime?

Officially, not at the moment.

You don’t want to engage the K.G.B.

you have the look of someone who has just caught the canary in the cookie tin.

Yes. Yes, perhaps I have.

My deepest sympathy, madame.

Anton was a highly valued employee...

of long standing.

My husband spoke of you often, Minister Melnikov.

I am honored by your presence.

Minister, I look forward to seeing you on Friday.

Yes. Under more pleasant circumstances.

And I am delighted to be among the American writers

whose books are just now being translated into Russian.

Mrs. Fletcher,

we, too, are delighted,

but our delight would be doubled

if your representatives did not continually bring up

the subject of royalties.

But before we conclude

I would like to say, on behalf of the Cultural Ministry,

that your participation has added greatly

to the spirit of Glasnost.

Thank you, Mr. Minster.

But we shouldn’t forget someone who has done so much

to make me feel a welcome part of this exchange program

- my artist host, Sergei Chaloff. - Da!

Jessica, is this what you do every morning, run a dozen miles?

Sergei, we’re not running. We’re walking.

Maybe that’s what it feels like to you.

Come. Sit down.

Oh. Is there one square inch of this city

that you haven’t seen?

Well, according to this, the Novodevichy Convent should be up here somewhere.

Yes. And it’ll be there 20 minutes from now,

after my feet get a chance to recover.

Mmm. You know, Sergei, when you go to America,

you’re not gonna make much of a tourist.

Ah. But I’ve already heard about your tour buses, Jessica.

Well, I hate to depress you, Sergei,

but they have yet to invent a bus

that can climb the steps of the Washington Monument.

Oh, come on. A quick tour around the Novodevichy, and then we’ll have lunch.

Ah. That is a bribe I cannot overlook.

I fail to see how 500,000 able-bodied men--

- Cyril? - Could be absorbed into--

- Is that you, darling? - Peggy Brooks!

What a delightful surprise!

I thought I spotted you at J.B. Fletcher’s talk yesterday but wasn’t sure.

Yes, I was there. How dreadful we missed one another.

My goodness. Sergei, is security always this tight?

My dear Jessica, the crème de la crème of the Kremlin hierarchy...

is here this evening.

I’m surprised we’re not being strip-searched.

Cyril, I’m in rather a new game for me.

Literary agent.

How exciting.

Well, that is what has brought me to Moscow.

With all this divine openness Gorby came up with,

I’m on the hunt for some authentic Soviet genius.

You still with the British Embassy?

Cultural attaché. Flitting between London and Moscow.

Matter of fact, I’m escorting Sergei Chaloff tonight,

midnight flight to London.

Cyril, there he is.

I’d kill to meet him.

Sergei, may I introduce Peggy Brooks.

I’m honored, Mr. Chaloff. How do you do?

I’ve just finished the English translation of your latest book.

Couldn’t put it down.

Cyril, be a love and top up my Stoli.

Your trip to the West will make you another Pasternak, another--

Well, being another Pasternak’s not bad.

- Who represents you in the West? - No one, as yet.

Give me the opportunity. I’ll make you a household word.

Perhaps you’ve an old, unpublished novel in your drawer

that Hollywood would die to buy.

I hardly think Hollywood would make any movies of my old books.

Oh, darling! They don’t have to make them.

They just have to buy them.

Hello, Mrs. Fletcher. I’m Bert Firman, National Press Association.

- May I? - Oh, yes. Yes, of course.

Sergei’s just gone off to the buffet.

Actually, I’ve already interviewed him.

It’s, uh, you I’d like a story from.

Me? Oh, no, no. I am a terrible interview.

Oh, don’t worry. I’m a terrible reporter.

I must be.

Why else would I have been stuck on the caviar circuit all these years?

Well, you must admit that dining on Russian caviar is hardly getting stuck.

It’s from Iran.

Comrades, Kremlin officials,

distinguished visitors,

a moment, please,

to raise your glasses in a toast

to one of our greatest living writers,

a great patriot who journeys tonight to London

and then on to the United States of America

as part of an open exchange of artists

between the world’s powers.

We salute you,

Sergei Chaloff.

Jessica, I’ve heard a great deal about your famous

New England clam chowder.

But believe me, there is nothing better

than fine Russian caviar.

I hope for your sake that this building is on fire.

I’m sorry to disturb you, Minister,

- but that woman, Mrs. Brooks-- - Mrs. Brooks?

There are 200 foreign visitors here tonight, Nikolai.

Who is Mrs. Brooks?

The redhead at Charles’ table.

When I was working over at internal affairs,

the woman was ordered to leave the country.

Irregularities on her import-export license.

I see.

Then find out how she imported herself again

before I export you to Vladivostok.

When we get to Washington, the first thing I want to see is a baseball game.

Well, I’m afraid the Senators left there years ago.

They did? Where did they go?

Oh, to Minnesota, I think. Or was it Kansas City?

Your--your congress meets in Kansas City?

Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no.

No, I was talking about the Twins

who used to be the Senators.

Sergei, is something wrong? Are you all right?

Another brandy, sir?

No, thank you. Not just now.

Oh. Mrs. Gorbachev also

is wearing a beautiful gown tonight.

You see, just over here--oh! I’m so sorry.

I should have held it in my lap.

I’m sure there’s no damage. Not to worry.

I--I assure you, I am not so clumsy on the dance floor.

Will you allow me to prove it?

Oh, of course.

Excuse us.

Sergei. That waiter- he’s got my purse!

Please, somebody. Stop that man! He’s got my purse!

Jessica, wait. Jessica!

Lock all doors! Stop him!

Mrs. Fletcher, come back. You--

Stop where you are! Don’t move!

Drop it!

Go back. Go back.

Mrs. Fletcher, you shouldn’t be here.

We’d better get going.

I respectfully question how and why

your security let a thief with a gun into the building.

Obviously, he used the employees’ entrance

where someone was extremely lax.

But I shall get to the bottom of it.

No, Minister. I shall.

Mrs. Fletcher, I must take personal responsibility

for this, uh, disgracefully inhospitable display.

But sadly, we, too, have our share of petty thieves and hoodlums.

Minister.

Chief inspector Bernicker. It was your purse, I gather.

Yes. Yes, it was.

I just received word from hospital.

The thief died without regaining consciousness.

Have your report on my desk tonight.

Inspector Cyril Grantham, British Embassy.

As this matter is clearly of no concern

of myself or Mrs. Brooks, who is also a British subject.

- My-- - Sir, please.

Let me sort everything out,

and then you’ll be free to leave.

Mrs. Fletcher, you saw this man Dukhov steal your purse?

Oh, yes, yes. It was here at my place.

I left it here when I went off to dance with Mr. Chaloff.

Exactly so, Chief Inspector.

Mrs. Fletcher, please go through it

in case passport or traveler’s checks...

fell out during his attempted escape.

We can facilitate replacement.

Is there anything missing?

No, I, uh-I don’t think so.

That’s very odd.

Canister of film. I’ve never seen that before.

- This is not yours? - Oh, no, no.

I left my camera and film back in my room.

Fascinating. Do you know what this is?

M-microfilm.

Indeed. Odd, madam.

This is your purse. Have you some explanation?

Uh, well--I--no. I mean--

I’m sorry, Mrs. Fletcher, but your stay in Russia has just been extended--

For how long, I cannot say.

Inspector, I told you.

I have no idea how that microfilm got into my purse

or why that thief ran off with it.

Unfortunately, our efficient Russian security men

fired in self-defense,

and now the thief is lying dead in a cold box

with two bullets in him.

So I am forced to question you.

Remember, you are the one who shouted to stop the man.

Good evening, Bernicker.

Madam Fletcher.

I don’t remember asking your department for assistance.

Your department didn’t. The microfilm, please.

Of course. After I have viewed it.

This is homicide involving a malicious shooting.

It is, therefore, my jurisdiction.

The homicide involves microfilm and an American writer

here on temporary visa.

My department is responsible.

As usual, comrade, you are mistaken.

And you, comrade Bernicker,

are being imprudent and shortsighted, as usual.

Forgive me, madam Fletcher.

I am Lieutenant Alexandrov, K.G.B.

Oh, yes. The committee for State Security.

Well, Lieutenant Alexandrov,

your State need not feel insecure over me.

How long have you known Sergei Chaloff?

Five days. He’s my artist host during my visit.

Five days. Yet you have been corresponding with him for six months.

Where did you get these?

Sergei Chaloff’s apartment. Where else?

Well, stealing my personal letters to him

certainly isn’t in the spirit of glasnost.

Madam Fletcher, your artist host was not always in favor.

And while the Kremlin has encouraged his trip,

he has been under surveillance.

He was but a few hours from his flight.

He spends the evening with you,

and suddenly, microfilm turns up in your purse.

Chaloff knew he was being watched.

Is that why he put the film in your purse?

Did he plan to retrieve it later,

- or you were you to bring it to the West? - Now just a moment.

Inspector, am I being officially charged with a crime?

Officially, not at the moment.

Madam, a caution.

You are in a country where people have been known

to spend years in the Gulag, unofficially.

Mrs. Fletcher.

- Have you been charged? - Not yet.

But they’re holding my passport. Can Siberia be far behind?

Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. At least not yet.

They always lift passports

when they don’t know what else to do.

So, who are you working for?

Nobody!

I won’t print a word till you’re safely out of the country.

Bert, I swear to you. I know nothing about that film.

Oh. That’s not so good.

What do you mean?

You see, that’s the one legal concept

the Russians don’t seem to be able to deal with--innocence.

"It follows that the first and last word on the fate of Joseph Stalin"

"was always in the hands of the Russian people, whether they knew it or not."

It makes less sense to me each time I read it.

And why did he write it in English?

So the West could read his message without delay.

Years ago, his anti-Stalin ramblings

kept him an underground, unpublished figure.

There is nothing new here.

But he names people who are still alive,

people who hold positions of power--

The Central Committee, the Politburo, even your K.G.B.

look there--Gregor Alexandrov, your own father.

Would he do something to prevent this from surfacing?

Or would Sergei Chaloff? He is mentioned on page two.

And on four is Cultural Minister Melnikov

who was low-level Stalin minion after the war.

Seemingly valueless, and, yet, this waiter Dukhov dies for it.

I tell you what. I take you to Gorky Park. Only 200 kopecks.

Thank you, but, uh,

I just really want the American embassy.

Ah, embassy. What is that? Just a building.

But Gorky Park, there is an experience.

Only 150 kopecks. Special price. I can arrange.

No. Just the embassy, please.

Oh, sure, I get it. You want to shop, right?

You want to go Gum’s. Okay.

After you go to embassy, we go Gum’s.

I take you inside myself. I know everybody.

Only 100 kopecks. Nobody cheats you. I see to it.

I wait, take you to Gum’s.

No Gum’s. Thank you.

The time is 11:15.

Mrs. Fletcher has just left the cab

and is entering the American embassy.

Mrs. Fletcher, good morning.

Eleanor Hayes, Liaison Desk Officer

to the Assistant Under Ambassador for American affairs.

Yes, Miss Hayes. Good morning.

I’m sorry. The ambassador had to attend

an urgent meeting at the Kremlin.

You may sit.

I see your passport is being held by the militia

because somebody hid a roll of microfilm in your purse

at last night’s Cultural Ministry reception.

Exactly.

I hear everybody who was anybody was there.

Well, uh, yes, I suppose so. I really wouldn’t know.

Evelyn Brinley said that Mrs. Gorbachev looked absolutely radiant

in a peach satin off-the-shoulder.

Course, I only have her word for that.

Evelyn’s become very cozy with one of our military attaches,

which explains how she got invited

when higher-ranking staff personnel did not.

Uh, Miss Hayes, my passport.

Oh, yes. Of course. Well.

First we must fill out a few simple forms.

Tax dollars at work?

I’m sorry about some of the fine print.

Several times, I’ve mentioned to Miss Brinley the wisdom of simplifying forms,

but, of course, she’s been too busy with this and that.

Oh, dear. I seem to have mislaid my glasses.

Well, I’ll just have to manage.

Miss Hayes.

Uh, what are they looking for?

Excuse me. My name is Fletcher.

I may have left a pair of eyeglasses here

at the reception last night.

One moment, please.

- Yes. A pair of glasses was turned in. - Oh.

Room 311.

Thank you.

- Mrs. Fletcher. - Yes.

I believe that my glasses were turned in to your office.

Yes, the glasses.

- We did not know whose they were. - Oh, thank you.

Nikolai.

Oh. Mrs. Fletcher. How delightful.

To what do we owe this honor?

She left her glasses last night, Minister.

Please come in.

- Do, please. - Thank you.

Your unfortunate business with the militia--it has been concluded?

Well, I’m afraid they’re still holding my passport, pending an investigation.

How very distressing for you.

- Have you been to your embassy? - Just now.

You acted wisely. I, too, have not escaped

from the censure of the militia,

and, uh, as a matter of fact, the K.G.B. was here today.

They took away the files of Mr. Dukhov.

- Very thorough, the K.G.B. - So I’ve learned.

Perhaps I can insure

that they do not abuse their power at your expense.

Comrade Chaloff, your fingerprints were on the film’s tube.

Anton was your oldest friend.

You attended his funeral, and you are about to leave the country.

All right. That is enough.

I did attempt to get it to London.

Mrs. Fletcher’s purse was only a momentary convenience.

Now, comrade, what is on the film?

I don’t know. To that I swear.

You swore you knew nothing about the microfilm.

Just what is the truth?

Bernicker.

Yes, Minister Melnikov.

- Yes, Minister. - We have questioned her at length,

and I have concluded that Mrs. Fletcher is merely an innocent bystander.

Thank you, Inspector.

Mrs. Fletcher, that is the least I could do.

Your passport awaits you. Oh. Thank you, Minister.

I really do appreciate your cutting through the red tape.

Bureaucratic paralysis? Uh, paper pushing.

Oh!

I must remember that. Red tape!

Mrs. Brooks, you claim to be literary agent.

Yet, according to internal affairs,

you were once involved in the import-export business.

Several of the items that you sold in London

were precious icons

that were reported missing from the Novodevichy Monastery here in Moscow.

That was my husband’s business.

We are now divorced.

Inspector, detaining Mrs. Brooks

is a clear violation of her rights.

Couldn’t the microfilm we found in Mrs. Fletcher’s purse have some literary value?

If you’d care to show me the film,

I'll give you the benefit of my expertise.

Inspector, I merely promised Sergei a small fortune.

Is that a crime in Russia?

Some years, yes. Some, no.

Bernicker.

Yes, Mrs. Fletcher.

You are where? What?

Apparently, he ran to this exit door, expecting it to be open.

It appears to be 8mm,

the same caliber as the two bullets

taken from Dukhov’s body.

Inspector, I was in the corridor close to the shooting,

and I only heard two shots.

Alexei shot low to hit him in the leg.

Ivan shot high,

trying to hit him in the shoulder of his gun arm.

Yes, but he must have missed.

The killer could have been in this portion of the corridor

with a silencer.

Mrs. Fletcher,

this clears up something that has been troubling me.

Look here--the autopsy report on Dukhov.

Oh. I wish I could read it.

Oh, forgive me. It says that two bullets entered the body-

right leg and heart.

The bullet that pierced Dukhov’s heart entered the body at an angle,

which supports your theory of an assassin with a silencer.

Madam Fletcher, when you followed the officers who pursued Dukhov,

- just where was Sergei Chaloff? - Well, not with me.

Chaloff’s fingerprints were on the film’s canister.

Also, he admitted hiding the film in your purse.

Oh, I’m sorry, but I doubt that that is possible.

Nonetheless, it is true.

In addition, he has confessed, of his own free will,

to trying to smuggle the film to the West.

No. He would never involve me in that.

Madam, you know only the toothless lion in his waning years.

As a young man, Chaloff was a dangerous activist

who, even now, it seems,

has some bite left in him.

Miss Hayes, the militia won’t tell me

where they’ve taken Sergei.

I am sorry, Mrs. Fletcher, but I cannot help you.

Now listen. I don’t have time for protocol or paperwork.

And I am telling you, this embassy does not and cannot involve itself

in the detention of Soviet citizens.

Yes, yes, yes. I understand.

Thank you very much.

Mrs. Fletcher! The inspector tells me you have cause to celebrate.

Oh, I... I do?

Your passport’s been returned, as has mine.

I’m off to book a flight home.

Well, I’m afraid mine is going to have to wait.

Now listen. Think carefully.

Do either one of you recall seeing Sergei in the ballroom

when those officers were pursuing Mr. Dukhov last night?

Melnikov ordered all the doors closed.

- It was pretty chaotic. - Well, I couldn’t swear to what happened.

People were running everywhere.

Well, thanks awfully, Cyril.

- Do give me a ring when you’re in London. - Of course.

You, too, Mrs. Fletcher. Love to see you again,

even if it’s only social.

Yes.

Mr. Grantham, I’m terribly concerned about Sergei.

They’ve jailed him.

Yes. My embassy is aware of the charges.

I realize this is none of your affair,

but you do know Moscow like a native,

and I desperately need to locate Sergei.

Perhaps I could make some inquiries.

Jessica!

I don’t believe this.

- How did you find me? - Mr. Grantham.

We only, uh, have five minutes.

Sergei, I don’t know what they’ve told you,

but in the shooting of this man, Dhukov, they found a third bullet,

and they think that the fatal shot

could have been fired by someone other than the two security men.

I see. So now the picture becomes clearer.

But, Sergei, they told me

that you confessed to putting the film in my purse.

Yes. It’s true.

It was vital I get the film to the West.

I knew my bags would be searched at the airport,

so I was carrying the film at the reception

when I saw that waiter again.

I remembered him from Anton’s funeral,

and I knew he must be working for the K.G.B.

Can you be sure?

I have been under surveillance,

and this man appears in two different roles.

I had to hide the film,

perhaps retrieve it from Jessica after the reception.

Yes, but what, exactly, was on the film?

Anton never told me.

He insisted it was for my own safety.

Well, then Dhukov must have seen you

put the film into my purse.

Then who killed Dhukov?

Yes. I see it now.

Someone from the K.G.B. followed the two militia men

and shot Dhukov during the cross fire.

The microfilm and whatever secrets it contains

is back in the hands of the K.G.B.

Dhukov can’t talk and involve his K.G.B. bosses.

But wait. We all went through the metal detector,

and you had no gun.

But I also have no alibi.

When the militia chased Dhukov,

I started to follow, then took a wrong turn in the corridor.

I know. I acted foolishly.

I have waited a lifetime for my moment of fame,

but Anton was the first to encourage me to write.

He was a friend for life.

I could not turn him down.

Sergei.

You know, Sergei makes sense.

The K.G.B. and the military are framing him.

If only he had an alibi,

and if only he hadn’t admitted hiding the film.

- But isn’t there something that we can do? - We?

My dear Mrs. Fletcher, I’m a career man at the embassy... books, the ballet,

- a sort of cultural hanger-on. - Oh, yes, yes, yes. Of course.

Taking on the K.G.B. is, uh--

You have your passport and most likely some memorable photos of Red Square.

Believe me, you don’t want to engage the K.G.B.

yes, but I also don’t wish to... to leave Moscow

remembering Sergei Chaloff locked there in that cell.

Yes.

Huh. Right.

Come in.

And, uh, what will the Gorbachevs be serving for dessert?

Right. Thank you.

Scoops of vanilla ice cream with raspberries. Thrilling!

Okay, okay. Don’t let the size of my office fool you.

I’m grossly underpaid too.

Bert, you need a story, and I need help.

Supposing I give you a scoop without the raspberries?

Shoot.

Sergei Chaloff is being held in the Lefortovo prison

for a murder probably committed by the K.G.B.

Mrs. Fletcher, I think one of the guys down the hall

would be better covering this kind of story.

I see.

I’d rather have a small office with no view

than a large cell with a sweeping panorama of the Siberian Alps.

Look, Bert, I’m frightened too, but if I have to go this alone,

that’s what I’m gonna have to do.

Oh, what the hell?

They say the Siberian Alps

are damn breathtaking this time of year.

Most American citizens believe all Soviets want to get out.

You, Madam Fletcher, are living proof--

Even Americans wish to remain.

Well, my visa expires tomorrow.

Lieutenant, this man Dhukov,

why was he after the film?

And how about a straight answer for once, Alexandrov?

He was working for you boys, right?

If we were as evil as you both claim,

we would not hire a thief to steal microfilm.

We would have simply taken it ourselves

and made Sergei Chaloff disappear.

But we don’t do that...

anymore.

Just what is on the film?

Uh, that falls under the jurisdiction of the Code Department.

With all your departments,

I have yet to encounter a Department of Justice.

Prior to your visit, we acquainted ourselves with your activities,

particularly those bewildering occasions

when you insinuated yourself into official police business.

Well, once in a while, I try to help. Yes.

Forgive me, Madam, but your dossier reveals you to be

a pleasant, if somewhat tiresome, busybody

whose interference would not and will not be tolerated in Soviet Union.

-Hey, hey. Now wait a minute, Alexandrov- -As for you, Mr. Firman,

I would not print any unsubstantiated material.

Glasnost is not a license to commit libel.

Good day.

We’d better get out of here while we can.

Bert, wait for me outside.

If I don’t come out in 20 minutes, call the embassy.

M-Mrs. Fletcher, don’t mess with these guys.

Twenty minutes.

I’m sorry. I forgot my handbag.

Mrs. Fletcher.

What a delightful coincidence bumping into you here.

No coincidence, Mr. Grantham.

Just before I left, I caught a glimpse of a bowler hat

and umbrella hanging in the closet.

Not exactly K.G.B. issue.

I’m here simply to

clear up the paperwork on Sergei’s aborted trip to London.

Yes, well, that very well may be,

but if you were listening in the other room, you know why I’m here.

Yes. Yes. To prove that Sergei is innocent,

and, by extension, that one of us is guilty.

Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you,

but when that poor fellow Dhukov was shot,

I was on the dance floor, and Mrs. Brooks can verify the fact.

Yes, of course.

But, unfortunately, Mrs. Brooks is in London.

Madam Fletcher, the K.G.B. is aggressively attempting

to solve this matter with the militia.

We have even offered Sergei Chaloff reduced sentence

if he tells us what is on microfilm.

But as you are aware, he insists he doesn’t know.

Is there any harm in digging into the facts again,

perhaps Dhukov’s past?

If Inspector Bernicker wishes to show you Dhukov’s file,

that’s his concern.

Oh, please, Lieutenant. Don’t send me on another wild goose chase.

You know very well, and so do I, that you have Dhukov’s file.

Murder victim falls under Homicide’s jurisdiction.

You mean you never had it?

Correct.

So, go... bother the inspector.

Yes. Yes, I certainly will.

Mr. Grantham,

indulge my curiosity.

Are you a Russian who was educated in a British school

or simply an Englishman turned traitor?

Mrs. Fletcher, my car is outside. May I give you a lift?

No, thanks.

You’ve already taken me for one ride.

And there was Cyril Grantham, as large as life,

making himself very much at home in the K.G.B. office.

Cyril is British, but he works for us.

Of course, he also works for British Intelligence.

So we feed him misinformation to take back to their side.

That way, we know that the half-truths

that we tell him are really lies.

And what about the half-truths he tells you?

Please. Don’t open a can of caviar.

Is that what you call Glasnost?

No. I call it business as usual.

I’m sorry. When the K.G.B. kept

the autopsy and ballistics report,

I thought they were also getting Dhukov’s employment records,

since this case is involving state security.

But they swear that they don’t have them.

- Which means... - Which means what, Mrs. Fletcher?

You have the look of someone who has just caught the canary in the cookie tin.

Yes. Yes. Perhaps I have.

Why must we keep going over this?

Sergei, are you positive

that Anton wrote this?

The perfect English, the diatribe against the Stalin regime-

it is pure Anton!

Yes, but the Eenglish isn’t perfect.

Mrs. Fletcher, please.

Inspector, Mrs. Fletcher formerly taught english,

- If you didn’t know. - I knew.

"And even as the Nazis invaded Leningrad, it is"--

"is"? No, no. That should be "was."

Here’s another mistake at the top of the next page.

"Time against humanity that labels the ’aggressor’ a predatory wolf."

Oh, obviously he meant "crime" against humanity, not "time."

"Time" makes no sense. Not by itself.

But did you notice each one of these mistakes, or misprints,

is at the bottom of the page and at the top of the next page?

Uh, could we begin again?

Please. I know it all by heart.

"It follows that the first and the last word on the fate

of Joseph Stalin was always"--

Inspector, say that again.

- "The first and the last word" -- -That’s it!

How wonderful! You’ve cracked the code!

- Him? - Oh, yes. I see!

Take the first and the last word on each page, put it together,

and you have the crime that we’re after.

"It is--"

"time that--"

"the terrible truth--"

"be revealed."

Oh, we are planning on about 200,

and they will be entertained by the Moscow Ballet.

- Good afternoon. - Oh, Inspector.

Mrs. Fletcher.

Well, I have my story, so I’ll be going.

Bert, uh, I wouldn’t rush out quite so fast.

- No? - Minister,

isn’t this something that you have been after, the microfilm?

Inspector, am I to be continually harassed

over some minor slipup in my department?

Ironically, Minister,

it was a slipup between these two gentlemen’s departments

that actually tripped you up.

Madame, are you now involved in my ministry’s security precautions?

Oh, no, no, no.

It was something you mentioned the other day

that, uh, stuck in my mind.

As a matter of fact, the K.G.B. was here today.

They took away the files of Mr. Dukhov.

The K.G.B. thought the militia was getting the file,

and militia assumed K.G.B. was handling it.

In truth, no one bothered you for it.

And you are?

Lieutenant Fyodor Alexandrov, K.G.B.

Ah. Yes.

The fact is, Minister,

Dhukov got the job at the reception

because you hired him.

That is ridiculous. Why should I bother to hire a waiter?

To steal microfilm for you.

But once Madam Fletcher saw Dhukov steal her purse,

you had to be sure if he was captured he would not talk.

That is more ridiculous.

How was I supposed to get into the reception with a weapon?

Security was airtight.

Well, not, I’m afraid, for the host.

I noticed something that night,

but I didn’t think much about it.

After the toasts, you were called to the foyer.

But you didn’t pass through the metal detector

like everyone else was using.

I’m pretty sure that you never submitted to any kind of search,

nor, as Cultural Minister, were you asked to.

You’re wrong, Madam.

When Dhukov fled,

I remained in the hall and ordered them to seal all the exits.

Only partly true, Minister.

When Mrs. Fletcher called for help,

you did tell the guards to seal off the building.

But as head of the ministry, your moves went unchallenged.

And when everyone’s attention was directed to the chase,

I suspect that you went to the basement corridor through a different route.

That is absurd!

I had no reason.

I warn you, gentlemen,

I have good friends on the Central Committee.

One telephone call.

Before you are making one telephone call,

perhaps you would like to read this.

It’s all very carefully documented on the microfilm--

Anton’s memoirs in code, names and dates.

They tell of a young Russian Officer Melnikov

who collaborated with the Nazis.

Anton knew everything.

We were young soldiers together in Leningrad at the time of the siege.

He suffered most cruelly.

But I was able to insure my survival.

Then after the war,

Anton was unable to publish his books.

He came to me.

I was rising in the ministry,

and I was able to find him jobs so that at least he could feed his family.

He kept silent...

in exchange for a lifetime...

of protection.

His... and mine.

And then when he was dying, I suppose,

he decided that he must free his tortured soul.

Uh, my story.

We will decide what is published about this and when.

But he will be tried.

You have been most helpful to us, Madam Fletcher.

We thank you.

- Mrs. Fletcher -Attention, passengers.

- Soyuz Airlines Flight 10... - Pleased that I have caught you.

A little token of my thanks, some chocolates to enjoy on the flight.

Oh, thank you very much.

Tell me. What will happen to Sergei Chaloff?

That situation is very grave.

I’m afraid that it will be at least six weeks...

before he is permitted to travel in your country.

Ah. I see.

And what about Minister Melnikov?

He will be punished, of course.

Oh, yes. But not as an American might expect.

- Retirement in disgrace, perhaps. - For murder?

The Soviet hierarchy has a very protective attitude towards its own.

Too much dirty linen on the line, people might wonder if...

all the clothes are not soiled.

Of course, I do not condone such things.

But I am merely a poorly paid policeman.

Again, thank you.

Thank you very much.

I think that you may find the almond nougat

particularly interesting.