All language subtitles for The Man from UNCLE - S02E24 - The Nowhere Affair.en

Whoa, there, Sophie. Howdy.

Howdy.

I'm lost. Maybe you can help me.

Where are you aiming to go?

Nowhere.

I don't blame you in this storm.

No, I mean the old ghost town,
Nowhere, Nevada. You know where it is?

That's my town, son.

They still got Nowhere
on the maps? I

didn't think they was
gonna show it no more.

- Which way is it?
- Which way?

Way the sign pole
points, of course.

Thanks.

Channel D. Calling Channel D.

Emergency. X-11.

I'm taking Capsule B.

Sweet dreams, Mr. Solo.

WOMAN: Mr. So...

Ten months ago,
Arum Tertunian...

one of the world's greatest
authorities on cybernetics...

disappeared abruptly.

Tertunian, Tertunian...

Oh, yes. Thrush.

Last week we got word
from one of our men...

that they're holding him in their
new top-secret hideout in Nevada.

Two days ago, Mr. Solo was sent
to contact that undercover man...

with orders to get all pertinent data
and, if possible, bring out Tertunian.

Mr. Solo's last signal was X-11,
which means that he had succeeded...

in obtaining the information
but was facing imminent capture.

Well, if Mr. Solo has the pertinent
data, they'll be able to make him...

Tell them? Oh, no.

Fortunately, Mr. Solo had the
new amnesia Capsule B with him.

Oh...

That's the new capsule the research
boys were bragging about in the cafeteria.

Were they?

It was supposed
to be top-secret.

I see, uh...

I'm to find Mr. Solo
and-or the message.

May I assume that Mr. Solo carried
one of these radioactive timepieces?

Yes, and to make your task simpler,
the map and the information inside it...

will respond to your beeper.

Just how, uh, effective are
these capsules? Total amnesia?

Oh, I daresay he'll still be able
to count up to 10 in Swahili...

or conjugate a few simple
Latin verbs, perhaps.

But he'll not remember
a thing about U.N.C.L.E...

or have the remotest idea of
who he is for at least 72 hours.

By which time, the
information will be in our hands.

I hope.

Oh, that must have
been some party.

Well, I certainly hope your
headache is not too severe.

Brother, I hate to
disappoint you, but...

Here, let me offer you a pill.

- Well, this isn't my hotel room, is it?
- Hardly.

Where am I? Who are you?

Well, let me introduce
myself to you.

I am Walter Longolius.

Oh, I'm, uh...

I'm, uh...

That's funny.

I don't seem to
remember who I am.

Now, now, I realize your head
hurts, but let's not play any games.

We both know very
well who you are.

Oh, well, all right.

You know who I am,
and I don't. I'll bite.

- Who am I?
- You're Napoleon Solo, of course.

Napoleon S...

There hasn't been anybody named
Napoleon since the Battle of Waterloo.

Now look, I told you, please, no
games. I'm hardly in the mood for comedy.

Well, who is?

What happened?

You were struck on
the top of your head...

- with the butt of a six-shooter.
- A six-shooter?

Oh, I don't even
remember a peashooter.

I don't remember anything.

Now, Mr. Solo, I am really surprised
you'd try anything as childish as this.

However, in any event, your
cooperation is unimportant.

What we wanna know from you
we can find out easily enough.

- How did it go?
- U.N.C.L.E. is slipping.

In the old days, they wouldn't
insult one's intelligence...

by sending an agent who
has the barefaced audacity...

to pretend he doesn't
even know who he is.

You mean to say he
said he doesn't know?

Yes, he said he
doesn't know. Hmm.

And this is the
great Napoleon Solo.

Let me have his dossier.

I want you to bring
him up to the laboratory.

We'll use some of Tertunian's new
drug on him, that truth serum thing.

And I want him to assist us.

We should keep a close eye
on that captive genius, Tertunian.

Well, he has been more
cooperative these days.

The more reason to watch him.

Someone's been leaking information from
around here, he may have had a hand in it.

Are you sure Solo's faking?

After a blow in the head, there is
such a thing as temporary confusion...

Not with an U.N.C.L.E. alert, and never
with the gleam in one's eye as he has.

Yes, I see what you mean.

He's classified here as
a swinger. What's that?

A manic depressive
who is never depressed.

Your name is Napoleon Solo.
Do you hear me? Napoleon Solo.

You're an agent
of the U.N.C.L.E.

You have come here under the
command of your superior, Mr. Waverly.

Now, tell me all the
instructions he has given to you.

Tell me all the information you
have transmitted back to him.

Do you understand me?

You are not to withhold
anything in your mind.

Do you understand me?

Say that you do.

I do.

What information have you
transmitted back to Waverly?

To whom?

You are not to withhold any information
that is hidden within your mind.

Now tell me what
is in your mind.

Tell me all. Tell me everything.

I'd like another
aspirin, please.

And when this cannon
roar in my head stops...

I'd like you to point out the fellow
who hit me with the six-shooter...

because I'd like to
return the compliment.

Mara, don't let him
fall asleep again.

- Tertunian.
- It has that effect sometimes.

I've given him over...

In excess of 200 cc's,
which is much too much.

Is it the medication?
Was it too old?

No, I rather suspect
he's under the influence...

of some kind of drug
that produces amnesia.

Ridiculous.

In his room just now, Solo not only
knew all about the Battle of Waterloo...

but insisted on
telling me about it.

I'm not surprised.

Memory at best
is a selective thing.

But Mr. Solo will come around
to his own identity in time.

We have no time.

We know Solo was talking to U.N.C.L.E.
headquarters when our men got to him.

How much has he discovered
about our operation here?

How much did he tell them? We've
got to find that out immediately.

Go on, get him out of there.
Bring him up to his room.

Now, if it's a drug we're
dealing with, what is the antidote?

Now surely your
computers can tell us that.

These machines were not
programmed for medicine.

You had me set it up to examine
the influence of emotional factors...

on the loyalty of
Thrush personnel.

I've only just programmed
their love lives.

They don't have any love
lives except under assignment.

- Now that might be one way out.
- What are you talking about?

Something that will
jog his memory back.

Something that will
increase his blood pressure...

and cause adrenaline
to pour into his veins.

Arouse his whole body chemistry.

Well, using what, insulin
shock? Electric shock?

No, no. The oldest, most
primitive stimuli we know.

Mara, will you please
bring me Mr. Solo's dossier?

Now, to make this operative, we
must arouse the most basic instinct...

the human animal
is conscious of.

Fear is the oldest.

But then, Mr. Solo
is a fearless man.

Um...

Hunger? Hardly applicable.

Uh, did you see these?

I glanced at that one.

Eye-opening, isn't it? Huh?

The other instinct, of
course, is, uh, libido.

And that, my dear Longolius,
is where we have a chance.

Libido?

Let us say that he's
interested in the opposite sex.

Our Achilles has a great
experience in that field.

His heel seems to be women.

Now, if we could
find somebody...

who could arouse that
not-so-latent predilection in Mr. Solo...

No problem there.

Thrush numbers among its female employees
any number quite adept in that field.

Mara, process all the
feminine personal records...

through that machine.

Programmed against what, sir?

Against Mr. Solo, of course.

We stamped out a card on him
from this dossier, if I remember.

Now we'll search for
the perfect intellectual...

emotional, and physical
match for him in that.

Well, now, if this don't
beat the chuckwallas.

I just knowed somebody
was around here.

Well, uh...

Finders-keepers
they say, don't they?

It must be rundown.

Well, I guess it works.

What time would
you say it is, Sophie?

That's just about what I'd
say, give a minute or two. Uh...

It ain't got no works. What...?

What is this?

What kind of a
fool thing is this?

Say...

It's a map. Ha, sure.

And there's a tunnel, and a...

It's a map. Soph, a map.

Say, Sophie, you know something?

We got our fortunes made,
maybe, if we can just find this place.

- Well, we're just about ready.
- Did you get a large enough sampling?

How many female employees
did you have to choose from?

Over 2000.

We only took those from the
Pacific coast in view of the time factor.

They're ready.

Well, who's on the top card?

Well, now, who is it?

There must be some mistake.

My machines never make mistakes.

No, no, no, there's been an
error. There must have been.

Now, these other choices
are perfectly feasible, but this...

This first selection is
absolutely all wrong.

Is it? Why?

It can't be.

Look, the girl with the highest
number, she's a way ahead of the others.

- Who is she?
- Yes, who is it?

We gotta locate her, we gotta find
her immediately. Give me those cards.

"Z-897."

Well, who is she?

Well, now, who is she?

It's me.

Very well, I'll do it, but I haven't
the vaguest notion what to say to him.

I thought all Thrush girls went
through some course of, uh...

An elementary man-woman
relationship. Um...

What's it called? Uh...

I had measles that semester.

I meant to make it up, but somehow, I
got sidetracked with differential calculus.

Hmm. The computer knows
all this. It has all your records.

And what's more important,
it has all of Mr. Solo's.

The machine knows that
Mr. Solo will take to you.

It's all that matters.

The rest will take
its natural course.

Now look, I may not have been, um, trained
in the Mata Hari division of Thrush...

but I have been trained since infancy in
the way to deal with U.N.C.L.E. agents.

And it is not, believe me, I repeat,
it is not to make love to them.

- Napoleon?
- Oh.

Whoever you are, please
stop shouting and go away.

But I'm not shouting.

Napoleon, I must speak with you.

Please get out of here
and leave me alone.

Napoleon, I am here for
Mr. Waverly, from U.N.C.L.E.

Everybody at U.N.C.L.E. is
terribly concerned about you.

I don't care if you're here on
behalf of Santa, all his little elves...

and Donner and Blitzen.

Leave me alone.

Napoleon, don't speak to me like
that. Don't you even recognize me?

No, I do not.

And if you won't
get out of here, I will.

Napoleon, you can't.

Napoleon, you
can't, it's impossib...

Open Channel D.
Channel D, please.

- Yes, Mr. Kuryakin? ILLYA:
I've arrived in Nowhere, sir.

And believe me, never has any
place been more suitably named.

Mr. Kuryakin, you're
working for U.N.C.L.E.,

not for an urban
redevelopment society.

What have you got to report?

Quantity of blood.
Dried, fairly fresh.

Otherwise, it would've
been bleached out by now.

Shall I test it for type?

Not at the moment.

Yes, sir.

I'm not hearing anything.

Mr. Kuryakin, are you there?

Yes, sir.

There's more blood, but
no sign of radioactivity.

Oh.

- You hear that?
- Distinctly.

- Well, where is it coming from?
- Just a minute.

It appears to be coming
from a lady's abdomen, sir.

Uh...

Excuse me, madam.

It's the watch.

It is empty.

The fever's gone,
you're feeling better.

I've seen you before.

You remember me, I'm glad.

My reception this afternoon was,
um, unnerving, to say the least.

Oh, yes, this afternoon,
you came to my room.

You were talking.

Well, what did you expect
me to do, wave my antennae?

I was rude, I'm sorry.

I'm usually not
rude to pretty girls.

At least, I don't think I am.

Three years ago,
you left me stranded...

in the middle of the United
Nations souvenir counter...

in a fit of pique over some
little Lebanese diplomat.

Now, rudeness or
jealousy, I don't know.

You mean I know you?

Why do you think I'm here?

I told you, U.N.C.L.E.
sent me to look after you.

U.N.C.L.E., U.N.C.L.E.,
you keep saying that.

Everybody keeps saying that.

- It upsets me.
- Now take it easy.

Will a martini upset you? Hmm?

Very cold, uh, on the rocks,
easy on the vermouth, two onions.

That's the same old Napoleon.

At least you remember that.

I like martinis?

Huh.

Where am I now?

The same place, only a bit
higher and a little more to the left.

It's my hideaway
away from it all.

Now, were this Manhattan, that
far-off peak would be Karakal...

and beyond, the
monastery of Shangri-La.

That's from a book.

Hmm. You're getting warmer.

Did you really take
an amnesia drug?

It's all kind of fuzzy.

I really can't
remember anything.

Except this.

Why are we whispering?

Here, hold this.

In a place like this...

even the begonias have ears.

You don't remember anything?

Not even the precious little moments
behind the filing cabinets at U.N.C.L.E.?

Whose uncle? Yours or mine?

U.N.C.L.E., U-N-C-L-E, the
organization we both work for.

You are Napoleon Solo,
U.N.C.L.E.'s top undercover agent.

At the moment, you are in the
hands of Thrush, your enemies.

Now, you took a drug to prevent
them from getting information from you.

And it's temporarily
destroyed your memory.

Oh.

Then it will come back?

So the doctor here says.

Hmm.

Now wait a minute.

First, you said you
were with U.N.C.L.E.

And then you said you were
with Thrush, whatever that is.

That is the antithetical
organization to U.N.C.L.E.

You see, I'm in
their confidence.

I infiltrated from
U.N.C.L.E. two years ago.

But please, please,
don't give me away.

They are not signatories
to the Geneva Conference...

when it comes to
traitors within their gates.

Including me?

You're a special case.

You don't remember anything?

I'm sorry.

Somehow, I have the
feeling though that you and I...

have had some wonderful
memories in common.

You know, if I wanted to, I could
tell you almost anything, couldn't I?

Mm-hm. MARA: Hmm?

- About what kind of friends we were.
- Mm-hm.

About the last time
we saw each other.

And about what we
were doing the last time.

What?

Well, somehow, I think things
like that aren't easily forgotten.

That's instinctual...

not memorable.

- Well, it was memorable to me.
- Mm-hm.

Wait a minute. I think I
remember something.

What?

All this talk about U.N.C.L.E.
and Thrush and plots and agents...

it struck a familiar cord.

- Things are coming back to you?
- Yes, yes, it's...

Comic books I've read.

Yeah, it's same as the
plots used to be, except...

Except what?

Slam, zap, powie.

That's it.

Slam...

zap...

powie.

Open Channel D. Kuryakin here.

Go ahead.

Don't know where I'm headed,
but I'm following the beeper.

You know, Sophie, I should've gone
on to that Colorado School of Mines...

like that waitress in Butte
told me 40 years ago. Ha-ha.

She was ahead of
her time, that gal.

Then I could figure out the
head and tail of this thing.

Howdy. Ha-ha.

You kind of startled me there, mister.
I'm not used to running into strangers.

See, around here, I'm the mayor,
the sheriff, and the entire population.

I've got some, uh, coffee here.

Would you like a
little cup of this, mis...?

What are you doing, young fella?

Listen, you stop that now.
Stop it right now, you hear me?

I don't like people walki...
Hey, whoa, let go of that.

Here, you let go of that, that's
mine. I found it, it belongs to me now.

Let go, will you?

Listen, I found
that. That's mine.

Come on.

Forty-two degrees north.

Over the hills.

There.

Yeah?

I've gotta talk to you.

Close the door.

Did anyone see you?

I don't think so. I
was very careful.

Yes?

Well, I've been thinking and
thinking and thinking, and, uh...

I don't know what this is about
that you've been telling me...

but I can't stand it here.

This place gives me the
creeps. I've got to get out of here.

You've got to be patient.

This whole thing
has been a fiasco.

Computer or no computer, theory
or no theory, it just hasn't worked.

Solo's chemical imbalance hasn't
changed despite everything she's done.

I can't stand this being in limbo any
longer, not knowing who I am or what I am.

I just can't stand it.

Now look, don't
do anything rash.

I will try to contact
Waverly in the morning.

I don't want you to
risk your life needlessly.

You could never get past the patrol
dogs out there. Do you hear them?

Now, I tell you, it's hopeless.

But as long as they think they can still
get information from you, you're safe.

In the meantime, I will
try to think of something.

You trust me?

I'll have to.

There's nothing else.

Nothing has been accomplished at
all, except that he's having a great time.

I wouldn't say nothing
has been accomplished.

He trusts her.
From trust to love.

Love, my left foot.

He's been faking all along. He's
no more lost his memory than you.

- But the truth serum.
- Oh, he's immune to it.

Perhaps they never even
gave him an amnesia pill.

Perhaps all they gave him was something
to make him immune to our serums.

That's possible, isn't it?

Well, we can be clever too.

Let Solo escape. He'll head directly to
where he's concealed the information.

And the moment he gets
it, we'll move right in...

and then arrivederci, Solo.

Open Channel D. Kuryakin here.

WAVERLY: Yes, Mr. Kuryakin?

I'm on top of a vast
underground Thrush plant

stretching for miles
in every direction.

Where they have
Mr. Solo, no doubt.

Well, find him, get
him out. Blow it all up.

You understand?

Yes, sir, I'm to find Mr. Solo
and then explode everything.

Well, we better find somewhere
to hide the burro and this thing.

By the time we get to that
tunnel, it's gonna be dark anyway.

Beats walking.

Say, if you're gonna blow anything up, I
got a lot of dynamite you can have cheap.

It's a mite old, but it'd
sure blow that tunnel...

to kingdom come and
back, I'll tell you. Ha-ha.

- Dynamite?
- I always carry it with me.

A man never knows when he's
gonna hit a promising vein here.

Why tonight?

Because I think we
can manage it tonight.

What can I say to you?

I suppose goodbye
would be appropriate.

Only, I wish you wouldn't.

I dislike the idea of
never seeing you again.

Well, we can make a date
to meet at a certain time.

No, let's not.

For people like us,
there's no tomorrow.

Oh, come on, don't be so glum.

Make a date, time, a place.

A bar, we'll each have a drink.

And you'll see
me, and I'll see you.

Oh, Napoleon, please.

Name it, come on. We
can't let it end like this.

Come on, please.

Well, there is one bar.

There's only one
there, I'll meet you there.

All right, when?

- I don't know, maybe tomorrow?
- Where?

In a town called Nowhere.

Now you must go.

I'm sorry for the tears.

Would you hold this, please?

What's happening in there?

The drug's worn
off. He's turned back.

Why you two-faced,
two-timing little Thrush witch.

What?

What a cozy little deception.

Playing both ends
against the middle, huh?

An U.N.C.L.E. agent.

And once and long ago we met and
romanced behind the files in U.N.C.L.E.

Napoleon, what's come over you?

Nothing. Nothing at all.

It came back.

My memory, you
see, it came back.

And this brought it back.

This.

Solo, drop that gun.

Mara, don't let him get away.
Mara, shoot him in the leg.

Mara, shoot him.

Mara, stop him.

Stop, Mara, stop him.

Mara, don't let him get
away. Shoot him, Mara.

Mara, shoot him. Mara, stop him.

Don't let him get away.
Mara, stop him, shoot him.

Don't let him get away!

I can't!

Because I love him.

Condition Red, Condition Red.

To your stations, to your
stations. Condition Red.

Most interesting.

The gun, the hand.

U.N.C.L.E.'s training becomes
positively ingrained and embedded...

until it's altered
into a basic instinct.

Just like Pavlov's dogs.

Hey.

This must be it.

Well, let's lay these
here eggs then, huh?

All right, come on.

You.

You did it on purpose. You
knew what was gonna happen.

You knew that she was gonna betray
us. You picked her because of that.

I warned you.

Computers never lie.

Have her brought here to me.

Locked.

I got one stick left.
Want me to blow it open?

Hey, what you got there?

Toothpaste.

Well...

You mean that's gonna
open the door just like that?

Well, it needs a
little assistance.

Well, if that don't
beat chuckwallas.

Tunnel A, Tunnel A.

U.N.C.L.E. men, I told you.

Condition Orange, Condition
Orange, Condition Orange.

All right, you go and hook
up the rest of the dynamite.

Right.

Invasion, Tunnel A.

Tunnel A, Condition Orange.

Go On, stop him. Kill him.

All right, stop... Stop him.

You, it's all your fault.
Look what you've done.

My life work, you've ruined it.

You dirty beast! MARA: Aah!

Get out of here.
Go and get Solo.

Take it easy, Napoleon.

Oh, you, you've
ruined everything.

You betrayed us all.

Well, the penalty
for that is death.

And death it will be.

It's me, Illya. You remember?

Waverly, the tailor shop.

Illya?

All done, sonny.

I laid more eggs than
a Rhode Island red.

All you gotta do is
just say the word and:

Get in there. Get in there!

A long, long death with
a thousand little flares...

burning inside you
through all eternity.

Let's go. SOLO: No, there's
something I've gotta do.

- Tertunian?
- And the girl.

Now I know that
you're really with us.

Now this is no joke.
I've gotta get her.

- Give me one minute, all right?
- All right.

You get outside.

Count to 60, then give
her everything you've got.

- Right, one, two, three, four, five...
- No, no, no. Slowly.

Oh, yeah. Ha-ha.

One, two, three, four...

Where was I?

Six, seven...

Longolius, where's the girl?

Aah!

All right, where is she?

Dr. Tertunian?

All right, that's enough.

Forty-nine, oh...

fifty...

fifty-one...

fifty-two, 53...

fifty-four, 55...

fifty-six...

fifty-seven...

fifty-eight...

fifty-nine, 60.

But I have never known
any other way of life.

Thrush was everything to me.
Mother, father, church, country.

When Thrush first came upon
me, I was about 4 years old.

I was lying in a roadside ditch beside
the body of a man and a woman...

my parents, I don't know.

And they took care of you?

Oh, yes, yes, they fed
me, they clothed me.

They even educated me
to their own purposes...

which I thought were
my own purposes too.

True, it wasn't your fault.

Well...

Unfortunately, these
things cannot be erased.

Thrush did its work well, I
have been programmed for life.

Have you?

We gave Mr. Solo a limited
dosage of Capsule B...

to temporarily insure
his safety, and ours...

by a loss of memory.

I wonder if a larger dosage
would erase a memory...

on a permanent basis.

You want a guinea pig?

In the interests of science.

There'd be no coming back.

There's no guarantee that
you'd remember anything.

Well, in my whole life...

there's only one thing
I should hate to forget.

If I'm meant to
remember, I will.

In case you shouldn't, I
shall be around to remind you.

How many?

All.

Happy days.

Happy days.

Do you know where you are?

Nowhere.

Do you know who I am?

Yes.

Do you remember anything else?

No.

Then you're somewhere.