All language subtitles for A Perfect Spy - 2

Your immediate presence
Chester Street essential

in matter of vital national
and international importance.

Richard T Pym, Managing Director, Pym Co.

The important thing is, Titch,
just bang hard on the knocker.

It's no use pressing the bell. All the electric's off.

Get inside the minute the door opens.

Anybody tries to talk to you on the doorstep,
keep mum. Not a word.

Especially some gents
who might be parked in a Riley.

Not one word, mind.

I shan't be coming in with you.

- Is my father in some trouble?
- Heatwave, Titch, heatwave.

What went wrong?

Dobsy went wrong, that's what.

Dobsy went woozy in the head.

Got 100,000 quid bomb damage

for some housing estate hadn't been started
when the bombing finished.

Spoilt it for everyone.

Selfish. That's what Dobsy was, Titch. Selfish.

- This'll do!
- All right, guv.

You walk the last bit.

Just a minute, sir!

- Excuse me, sir!

You'll be the son and heir, Magnus.

Greetings, squire. Salaams.

- How do you do?
- I am optimistic, thank you, squire.

I think we're on the road to understanding.

Some resistance at first, it's to be expected.
A very cautious man, your father.

But I think I see a light begin to shine.

Cunningham's the name, squire.

Half cunning, half ham.

Cunning ham.

Please. You are a German scholar,
I understand, Magnus?

A fine language. The people I'm not sure,
but a lovely tongue in the right hands.

You can quote me.

Your son, sir. You can be a proud man.

- How are you, old son? How was the train?
- Fine, thanks.

- They give you a bit to eat?
- Just a sandwich and a beer.

Son, you ought to watch that drinking of yours.

You know there's £5,000 in cash for you if you
don't smoke or take hard liquor until you're 21.

Baroness, what do you think of this boy of mine?

Son,

I want you to meet a noble and heroic lady

who has known great advantages and misfortunes

and who has fought great battles

and suffered cruelly at the hands of fate,

and who has paid me the greatest compliment
a woman can pay a man

by coming to see me in her hour of need.

Rothschild, darling.

Heard that name anywhere before, have you,
son, with your fine education? Rothschild.

Baron Rothschild, Lord Rothschild.

Rothschild's Bank.

Or are you not conversant with the name
of a certain great Jewish family

with the wealth of Solomon at its fingertips?

Yes, of course I've heard of it.

Well, then. What do you think of him, Baroness?

Beautiful, darling.

Now, son,

I want you to listen to what she has to say

because I think it's a damn shame

and I'm going to see this lady right,
you mark my words.

Elena, tell him the story.

Call her Elena. She likes it.
She's not a snob, she's one of us.

Go on, my dear. When you got married.

I...was 17.

Like you, Magnus.

My husband was
the late Baron Luigi Svoboda-Rothschild,

the last in the great line from Czechoslovakia.

Our country seat
was the Palais of Nymphs at Brno,

which first the Germans then the Russians
rape worse than a woman,

literally.

My cousin Anna, she married to the head man
from De Beer Diamonds, Cape Town.

Got houses like you not imagine.

Too much luxury I don't approve.

My Uncle Wolfram I never speak.

And thanks Gott, I say.
He collaborate with the Nazis.

The Jews, they hang him upside down.

My Grand-Uncle David,
now he poor like a kulak.

And my poor Auntie Waldorf,

no!

No, no!

It's a damn shame, that's what it is.

Danke. Danke.

You're a gem, that's what you are.

Go on, my dear.

My Luigi, he was financial genius.

Ja.

We got house from marble,

we got mirrors, culture, we got...

They couldn't even count it.
Ask her. Don't be shy, squire.

We lose everything

and when the Germans come
my Luigi face them with a pistol.

Don't never been heard of since.

That baron was a fine man.

Ja. Ja!

We are going to see this lady right, aren't we?

Course we are.

What that man did, son,

he got some of the best treasures
out of his palace

and he put them in a box

and he gave the box to certain very good friends
of this fine lady here...

..and he gave orders
that when the British had won the war,

this very same box was to be handed over
to his lovely young wife

with everything that it contained,

however much it may have
risen in value in the meantime.

One Gutenberg Bible.

Nice condition, darling.

One early Renoir.

Two Leonardo medical.

One first edition Goya "Caprices".
Artist's annotation.

300 best gold American dollars.

Rubens, a couple cartoons.

- Cunningham says it's worth a bomb.
- It's Hiroshima!

Are the two in the Riley still there?

I'm afraid they are.

They can't come in. They haven't got a warrant.

I'm an honest citizen.

Come here, son.

You believe in her, don't you?

Don't spare my feelings.

Do you believe in that fine woman?

Or do you think

that she's a black-hearted liar,

an adventuress to boot?

- She's fantastic.
- Spit it out, son.

She's our last chance.

I'm not quite sure
why she hasn't gone to her own people.

You don't know those Jews the way I do.
Finest people in the world, some of them.

But there's others... They'd have the coat
off her back as soon as look at her.

I asked the same question.

- Who's Cunningham?
- Old Cunningham's first-class.

I'm bringing him into the business
when this is over. Exports and foreign.

His sense of humour alone
will be worth 5,000 a year to us.

Was he on form tonight?

No, you're right. He...he wasn't.

He was tense.

Get yourself a glass.

So what's the deal, then?

Faith in your old man.

That's the deal.

"Ricky," she said to me,
"I want you to get that box,

"sell the contents and invest the money
in one of your fine enterprises."

She trusts me. All she wants for herself
is 10% a year for life, as long as she's spared,

with the usual provisions for endowment
and insurance, if I should go before she does.

Son, I haven't got a passport just at the moment,
otherwise I'd do this myself.

Syd, Perce Loft, old Muspole,
they're not right for this,

but you, son...

That school of yours did the trick.

Your class, your authority.

She likes you, she trusts you.
You're my son, that's the point.

You are to proceed to Bern, Switzerland,

and take rooms at the Grand Palace Hotel.

Mr Bertl, the undermanager, is first-rate.

The bill is taken care of.

Signor Lapardi will contact the Baroness

and guide you to the Austrian border.

When he has given you the box and you have
confirmed in our language that it's all there,

see him right with the enclosed, and not until.

This is going to be the saving of us, son.

That money took a lot of earning,

but when this is over
none of us will ever have to worry again.

Very nice, darling. Make you look handsome man,
not nice boy from school.

Thank you.

One day the girls go crazy from you, darling.

Now we go shopping a little for me.

Some small things.

Bern is not Paris, but we'll look what they have.

You like, darling?

- You don't think too tarty?
- I think perfect.

OK. We buy two, one for my sister Zsa-Zsa.
She my size.

You like this one, darling?

Not look cheap, like whore from Hollywood?

The bill, please.

Send to Herr Bertl. Grand Palace Hotel.

For my sister in Budapest, darling.
You think she like?

She got good taste, like you.

When are we going to meet Signor Lapardi?
When is he going to do something?

- He talk with his Vertrauensmann, darling.
- I'm sorry? Who?

A Vertrauensmann, darling,
is man we are trusting.

Not yesterday, maybe not tomorrow,
but today we are trusting him for ever.

He put things right for us.

Rick's getting anxious about when.
On the phone last night he said to me...

Lapardi, he need one hundred pound, darling.

The Vertrauensmann know a man
whose sister know the head from Customs.

Better he pay him now, from friendship.

No, Elena, I can't. Rick said pay nothing
until we get the box. I can't do that!

You want to paint a house, darling,
first you got to buy the brush.

Give her the money?
God in heaven! What do you think we are?

Fetch me Elena.

Hello? Hello?

Son? Are you there?

Do you hear me?

- God's name, son! Will you say something?
- Don't shout me, Ricky.

You got lovely boy here, darling.
He very strict with me.

I think one day he be great actor.

"The baroness says you're first-rate, son.

"Are you talking our language with them?

"Have you had an honest-to-God
English mixed grill yet?

"Well, have one on me tonight!

"God bless you, son!"

And you too, Father.

So, my dear...

- Good morning, sir.
- Morning. Has the Baroness Weber gone out?

The Baroness has left the hotel, sir.

There is a letter for you.

Thank you.

Darling, you are good man,
got body from Michelangelo.

But your papi got bad problems.
Better you stay in Bern.

Never mind. E Weber. Love you always.

Great God Almighty! God in high heaven!

The trouble is, I've no money now, and Mr Bertl
says at least I have to pay the shopping bills.

What bills?

You see, Elena bought some jewellery
and some dresses.

Holy hell!

My father says it's in the post, Herr Bertl,

but not to worry in any case,
because it might not matter, really,

because...he's making a bid
to buy the hotel, actually.

Sorry, sir.
The number is disconnected.

Amen.

Dear Father,

I have been awarded one of the scholarships
available to foreigners at the university here.

As you would wish, I am of course studying law.

Swiss law, German,

Roman.

Just law, that's all.

So don't worry about me. I hope you'll soon
be liquid again and reinstated to Ascot

and everything will be crackerjack.

God bless. Your loving son, Magnus.

Ich verstehe. Danke.

Let me remind you of the words of St Paul.

"For we wrestle not against flesh and blood,
but against principalities,

"against powers, against the rulers
of the darkness of this world,

"against spiritual wickedness in high places."

So, to sum up,

my three adjurations.

One, know your enemy. The forces of darkness.

Two, don your armour

of truth, righteousness and faith.

And three,

keep in touch with GHQ.

- Do help yourselves.
- My father said before I go up to Oxford,

I had to see some real life.

"If you're going to be Lord Chief Justice,
you'd best take a dekko at the seamy side first."

So, I did a few weeks
with a bookie in the East End.

Real character, was Syd.
Always packed a knuckleduster.

"Oh, yes. In case of liberties,
be prepared, Titch, that's what I say."

And...

I mucked out at a racing stable.

Drove a lorry
for a rather suspect poultry farmer.

- Such a charming lad.
- I was a waiter

in a very dubious roadhouse
on the Great North Road.

- What brought me here was a job as a courier.
- Excuse me.

Well, more a sort of companion, actually.

A very old lady needed a hand with her luggage.

I delivered her to Zurich

and then came on to Bern, just for a look-see,
and thought I'd stay on for a while.

I've got these really squalid digs,
absolutely the wrong side of the tracks.

Fascinating, actually.
Terrific experience. First-rate.

Always remember you're an Englishman,
the genuine article, son.

And so, be ever true to your advantages

and avoid foreign temptations.

You can write to Colonel Mellow,

post restaurant, the main GPO, Hull, Yorkshire,

who obliges by collecting my mail.

No need to put my name on envelope.

God bless. Your loving father.

Don't you know it's forbidden for strangers
to hang their clothes in Swiss basements?

It's the first I've heard of it.

In Switzerland it is forbidden to be poor,
it is forbidden to be foreign.

It is completely forbidden to hang clothes...

..except when it's compulsory.

- You are an inmate of this establishment?
- A friend of the Ollingers.

- English friend?
- Yes.

My name's Pym.

- Lord Pym?
- Just Magnus.

But you are of aristocratic stock?

Well, nothing very special.

Sir Magnus. You are the war hero, I think.

- May I ask who you are?
- My name is Axel.

Since one week I am your neighbour in the attic,

so I am obliged to listen to you
grinding your teeth at night.

- You type all night?
- I am a poet.

And your name is Herr Axel?

Herr Axel? Axel.

My parents forgot to give me a second name.

Sir Magnus.

For God's sake! The war is over.

Sorry.

Are you all right?

- You like to talk nonsense?
- Very much.

Why don't you bang on my door
sometime when you are lonely?

We can have a cigar together,
drink some wodka, save the world a little!

- All right.
- OK. We talk nonsense!

The nightwatchman found me sleeping
in Herr Ollinger's warehouse.

He wanted to hand me over to the police

because I had no papers and I was foreign.

But Herr Ollinger, as you know,
Sir Magnus, is one of the saints

and instead of taking me to the police
he took me to a doctor.

- And how did you get into Switzerland?
- I walked.

How did you reach Bern, Sir Magnus?

Are you advancing or retreating?

Once upon a time,

there was a little boy called Magnus
who lived with his father in a big house.

We had servants and big warm beds
and lots of parties and champagne

and it was paradise

until one day some men in uniform came.

And here it is, on Grand Palace Hotel notepaper.

"Never mind. E Weber. Love you always."

Tell it again. I order you, Sir Magnus.

And make sure it's completely different this time.

- Did you sleep with her?
- Of course.

- How many times?
- Four or five.

- In one night?
- She was very experienced.

You tiger.

I love you, you hear? I love all English aristocrats.

But you best. You're a prince, no question.

We shall appoint tomorrow
the first day of the Weltschmerz.

We shall begin the education we never had.

The writers. Brecht. Zuckmayer. Tucholsky.

Remarque.

Painters. Klimt.

Kokoschka. Kandinsky.

You must know these people, Sir Magnus.

Do we know music?

And while he yet spake,

Io, Judas, one of the twelve, came

and with him a great multitude
of swords and staves,

from the chief priests and elders of the people.

Now he that betrayed him gave them a sign,

saying, "Whomsoever I shall kiss,
that same is he.

"Hold him fast."

And forthwith he came to Jesus

and said, "Hail, master"

and kissed him.

And Jesus said unto him,

"Friend, wherefore art thou come?"

How do you like Swiss academic life?

Plenty of intellectual rigour to stretch the sinews?

It's a bit dreary, really.
A lecture is a lecture is a lecture.

Got to be done, I suppose. Didn't suffer
much of that myself. Saved by the war.

That could be a bit of a bore, too.

- What outfit were you in?
- General List.

That's an Airborne Forces tie, isn't it, sir?
Even I recognise that.

My name is Jack.

Refill?

Did you see a lot of action?

Oh...Crete.

North Africa. Sideshow stuff.

It's no use asking, Magnus.

He won't tell you anything about it.
We can eat soon.

- Magnus finds Bern a bit of a bore, Felicity.
- I'm not surprised.

What do you do for fun, Magnus?

What extra-curricular life
does the university offer?

- Plenty of earnest discussion groups? Is that it?
- Very earnest.

Friends? Girlfriends?

Well, one or two.

Come to think of it, the university does have
a reputation for harbouring some odd characters.

- Wandering emigrés of one kind or another.
- Run into any weirdies, Magnus?

There's a pretty rum crowd
who call themselves the Cosmo Club.

- How do they take their pleasures?
- Oh, it's a sort of foreigners' political forum.

- Know any of 'em?
- Girl called Maria.

She's some sort of an officer in it,
like a treasurer.

Any particular complexion?

Well, she's, um, dark.

One thing, Magnus,
it's quite clear what your politics are.

You could probably tell us
a good deal about these odd birds.

- Would you mind that?
- Why should I?

No scruples about the sanctity of academic life
or anything like that?

None at all. Not if it's for my country.

You ought to meet Sandy.
Drink or lunch or something.

Sandy's my boss. Good scout.

How's your German, by the by?

Coming on.

- Any good at translation?
- What sort?

You're a chap who can keep his mouth shut,
aren't you?

Yes, I think so.

We get a lot of technical stuff in
from time to time,

mainly about funny little Swissy firms
that are manufacturing things we don't much like,

nasty things that blow up.

It's not exactly secret
but we hire a lot of local labour in the embassy,

so we'd rather have it done by someone outside,
preferably a Brit, someone we trust.

Are you game, if you were asked?

Of course, if I can help.

We pay. Not much.

Pennies, Magnus. Pfennigs, cents, centimes.

Washers.

What's wrong with him?

They shove a British sherry up his arse

and he's having trouble shitting it out.

Maybe it was you who fired it at me, Sir Magnus.

Did you lead the invasion?

Urgh! Uh.

Sir Magnus!

Where are you, you bastard?

- Tchaikovsky is dying!

Too late. Send for the undertaker.

"For Sir Magnus, who will never be my enemy."

The flyleaf also says AH.

Karlsbad 1939.

Where's Karlsbad?

Karlsbad no longer exists.

It was changed to somewhere else.

When you have read "Simplicissimus",
you will understand why.

It is about the madness of war
and other madnesses.

Where was it?

It was my home town.

You've given me a treasure from your own past.

Would you prefer me to give you
something I did not value?

- You been to the Cosmo recently?
- Not just lately.

I'm told some of the people who go along
are a bit outspoken.

Nothing against your Maria, mind.

These outfits always have a broad spectrum.
Part of a democracy.

All the same, it might be a good idea
if you took a closer look.

Don't stick out.
If they expect you to be a lefty, play along.

They want a right-of-centre Brit, give 'em one.
If necessary, give 'em both.

Don't go overboard.
We don't want you in trouble with the Swissies.

Course not, Jack.

Oh, nearly forgot.

Next month's stipend.

- Names would help.
- Right. Thanks, Jack.

You're not averse to taking a peep
round the odd desk, Magnus?

Not at all, Jack.

Thing to do is float, Magnus.
Get in there, be your charming self.

Just in case, if you want me urgently,
ring Felicity and say your uncle's in town.

If I need you I'll phone your digs from a call box

and say I'm Mac from Birmingham
passing through.

OK?

I'm starting a Cosmo Club newsletter. I thought
we might include a contribution from each group.

Cosmo don't got no groups.

- All I need is a list of names.
- Cosmo don't want no newsletter!

You must have a list, as secretary.

I thought if I had it I could send out a circular
and find out who's interested.

Why don't you come to the next meeting
and ask them?

Not everyone comes to meetings.
I want to test all shades. It's more democratic.

Nothing is democratic. All is illusion.

That's a perfect debate for the newsletter.

English stupid. What does an English
know from illusion? No newsletter.

If we get interrupted by some chance encounter,

friend of yours, friend of mine,
but not in the family, I'm sure you understand me,

you and I are embroiled in the affairs

of the British Embassy's
Anglo-Swiss Christian Society.

I'm the new secretary.
You're my missioner at the university.

Just in case.

You did a good job. Church'll be proud of you.

Only it seems...

one or two members of our choir have been
unduly modest about their personal particulars,

almost as if they wanted
to hide their lights under a bushel.

- I didn't really look.
- Nor should you. That's our job.

Danke.

Can't find your lovely Maria anywhere.
What have you done with her?

I'm afraid she went back to Italy.

Found a replacement?

Names without addresses
we can pin down soon enough.

But then there's the very shy sprite...

..with an address of a sort but no name.

What about AH? Does it ring a bell, AH?

I haven't been to a lot of meetings, to be honest.
Bit busy. This and that, you know.

Think.

AH.

Perhaps it's AH...somebody else.
AH Schmidt... Smith!

I suppose I could find a way of asking, if you like.
It's all quite open, really.

Would it help if I told you that AH, whoever he is,

says he can be contacted at an address
in the Länggasse, care of Ollinger?

You live there, don't you?

Oh, you mean Axel!

He fought in Russia first.
He was taken prisoner but escaped.

Then he was in Normandy
when the Allies invaded France.

He was wounded in the spine and hip.
That's why he limps.

They had to shorten one of his legs.

- How did he escape from the Russians?
- He said he walked.

- Like he walked to Switzerland.
- Well, that's what he said.

How long was he in Russia?

Um, I don't know.

Long enough to learn Russian.
He's got books in Cyrillic in his room.

And after Normandy?

He was sent back to Karlsbad. It was Karlsbad
then, until the Czechs took it over after the war.

I know, Magnus. Go on.

Well, his mother was ill.

With jaundice.

So he put her on a cart
and pushed her to Dresden.

But the Allies had just bombed it flat.

He took her to the district
where the Silesian refugees had gathered,

but she died soon after he got her there.

So, now he was alone.

What about his father?

Well, he seems quite proud of his father.

Fought in Spain with the International Brigade.

He was an old-style Social Democrat, so he was
lucky to die before the Nazis could arrest him.

So, he's a lefty.

No, I just said he's dead.

I meant the son.

Well, not really.

Not that he's said, anyway.
He's uncommitted, I'd say myself.

Righto. Now it's peacetime, what does he do?

- Gets out of the Russian zone.
- Why?

He was scared that the Russians would find him
and put him back in a prison camp.

Good story, so far.

What does he do about it?

- Burns his papers and buys some more.
- Where from?

From a soldier who looked fairly like him.
Came from Munich.

Why didn't he want his papers?

He said that he wanted to stay in the East.

- Why?
- Axel didn't know.

Bit thin, isn't it?

Yes, I suppose it is.

On we go.

Where's his next stop?

Well, Munich,

'cause that's where
he's supposed to come from now.

But the Americans pulled him off the train

and, er, put him in prison

and...beat him up.

- Why would they do that?
- Because of his papers.

He...bought them from a wanted man.
He'd just walked completely into a trap.

Unless they were his own papers in the first place
and he never bought them from anybody.

How long did the Yanks lock him up?

I don't know.

He got ill again, then he escaped from hospital.

Pretty good at escaping, I must say.

How does he spend his days here, Magnus?

Who are his buddies?

Well, he doesn't go out much.
He's afraid the police will arrest him.

It isn't only the police. If the ordinary Swissies
knew about him, they'd inform against him.

He says they do that. It's the national sport.

He says they do it out of envy
and call it civic-mindedness.

- It's just household gossip I'm telling you.
- It's a pity you didn't tell us earlier.

It didn't mean anything to me.
I didn't think you'd be interested.

Herr Ollinger told me most of it.
He...he gossips all the time.

What are Axel's reading habits?

Well, everything, really.

He gives me a list of books
and I get them out of the library for him.

- In your name?
- Yes.

It's a bit rash, old boy.

Axel!

Pym!

- Pym!

You bastard! Pym! Pym!

Pym! Where are you?

Pym, help me! Pym!

Pym!

I'm sorry, Magnus.
Don't take it too much to heart.

We can all get taken in.
Way of the world, I'm afraid.

I think you were very brave, I really do.

The Swissies'll be grateful.
One favour they owe us.

Pym! Pym, help me!

Pym! You bastard! Where are you?

Help me! Pym!

Pym! Pym! Pym!

Dearest Father, I'm so glad to hear
that business is flourishing for you.

And I'm looking forward to Oxford,

even if my head is still swimming
from all the seminars and lectures over here.

One way and another, life's just about first-rate.

The only bad thing is that
I had a pal who recently let me down,

but that's the way of the world, I suppose.