All language subtitles for Spooks.s02e08.Unions

This is Ruth Evershed,
joining us from GCHQ.

You know what's going on.
GCHQ planted you on us.

Danny?

I only said I'd go on the barge
because of you.

You're on probation.

Congratulations, Tom.

A superb display of leadership.

It's all part of the game.

- We're here for our masters, not pleasure.
- Oh, I don't know.

- You look amazing.
- Thank you.

- Some other time.
- Yeah, I'd like that.

(TV) 'Transport chaos hit the capital

'as the latest 24-hour strike on
London Underground started at 8pm,

'increasing pressure
on the government to find a solution

'for what is now looking
like a new Winter of Discontent.

'Shadow Cabinet spokesman
Charles Lindsay... '

- (Zoe) Charles Lindsay.
- The man who had the fling with the guy?

Who knew the girl that sold the thing? Yep.

'... that commuters
were the pawns of a battle

'between the government and the unions.

'New Labour came into power
on a wave of optimism... '

- Don't you two have homes to go to?
- Tube strike. It's raining. No cabs.

We train you to be resourceful.

- Can we get a pool car on strike days?
- Operational purposes only.

I can provide you with specially-designed
waterproofing equipment.

Standard issue. You press this button here.

'... air-traffic controllers, railway staff, firemen.

'The government must be
asking itself - what next? '

Platoon! Attention!

All turn to the right. Right turn!

A charge of fighting
contrary to section 43A of the Army Act.

The accused, Corporal Eric Woods,

wishes to make a statement
to an officer outside his regiment.

Sir.

I wish to inform you about a situation.

A matter of national security.

We have an enemy within.

I can name the man
who poses the biggest threat

the British Army is currently facing.

The man who rank and file Army
think walks on water.

Major Samuel Curtis.

Major Curtis may be a hero
to a generation of junior ranks.

He may have a chest full of medals
and a place in the public heart...

but it is my duty to inform you
that he has the power to destroy our army.

You see, Major Curtis
is planning industrial action.

A laying down of arms.

This government is about to face
a mutiny from the British Army.

Shit.

What's going on today
in the wondefful world of espionage?

Well, the tube dispute is ongoing.
Our people in the RMT and TGWU

say they're ready to get in the ring -

- possible wildcat actions.
- Headline intel?

There's an avalanche coming in
from our union sources.

(Zoe) 50 agents in key sectors
all saying the same thing.

- Specifically?
- While the government's back is turned,

- the unions are gathering strength.
- Stay on it.

We must keep this country's infrastructure
working. Next. How's Tom getting on?

(lndistinct shouting)

Enemy front! Enemy front!

- Move it!
- Enemy front!

- Three opposite.
- Get down... and mount!

- We'll go first.
- Hold on.

- Get down!
- Quickly!

- Down!
- One Section assaulting.

Move!

- Whoa, whoa!
- (Soldier whistles) Stop!

What are you doing?

- Everyone all right?
- Sir.

Weapon.

Never... ever... forget.

The SA80 individual weapon cannot,
under any circumstances,

be fired from the left shoulder.

The cocking handle will break your jaw

and you'll get a faceful
of hot metal casings, even with blanks.

That's the standard British Army rifle.
Learn to love it.

- Yes, Major Curtis.
- You didn't design the bastard.

David, end-ex. Return your men to barracks.

- Sir.
- Sergeant-Major Baker,

- stand the rest of the men down.
- Sir! End-ex!

(Danny) 'Tom has been contacting us daily
at 0700 and 2300 hours.

'Curtis's company are about to go overseas
- they're on full-time exercise.'

But there are
some morale problems on base.

Tom photo-messaged this
from his mobile last night.

"Fancy spending nine months
away from home on crap pay?

"Provide strike cover for firemen
earning twice as much money

"and face the possibility
of being killed for a country

"full of greedy, pathetic
and selfish individuals?

"Sign below. Army - Be Depressed."

- Fair point.
- Satire never brought a country down.

Curtis is a soldier's soldier.

He won't sit behind a desk.
He takes full part in all exercises.

But Woods, our whistleblower corporal,
codename Nightingale,

- has no proof that Curtis is planning mutiny.
- We could be wasting our time.

No strike cover for industrial disputes?

No security backup
in case of major terrorist incident?

Britain's interests overseas
put in severe jeopardy?

Every tinpot general
from Somalia to North Korea

and all points in between gloating on CNN?

The special relationship
with our cousins severely embarrassed?

Until we know for sure, it's not time wasted.

So... what do we know about Curtis?

Well, Sam Curtis led five men
over 200 miles of Iraqi desert in 1991

and was the subject of a bestseller.

Eric Woods glassed a fireman in a pub,

then put the spotlight on Curtis
in a bid for leniency.

- I say pass this over to Army Intelligence.
- Curtis's reputation precedes him.

It'd be like asking the Vatican
to prove Mary wasn't a virgin.

He's a military legend and a public hero.

He'll end up with a statue
in Trafalgar Square.

Chief of Defence Staff is adamant
this is our jurisdiction.

If Curtis is guilty, we've got to stop him.
Thank you all.

What if we went on strike?

Well, if the Army went on strike,

it'd be obvious once the Chinese Red Army
marched down Whitehall.

If we went on strike...
I don't think anyone would notice.

Sir.

- Afternoon, sir.
- Afternoon.

- You're late.
- A game of poker. I won a big pot.

Three more minutes,
I'd have assumed you were compromised.

Well, I'm not.

I've been here two weeks,
Curtis has said half a dozen words to me.

- You push me in front of him, OK?
- There's movement.

Curtis is reassembling his old team.
The crew from Desert Storm.

Sergeant-Major Baker's not the only one.

Two more men are shipping in tomorrow,
Wallace and Parks.

- So?
- Men forge the strongest bonds in battle.

Curtis trusts them.

He can't run an industrial action solo -

he needs men beneath him,
spread it through the ranks.

Curtis is moving his pieces into place.

- How many officers are up for it?
- 19.

- Budget?
- 125.

125 quid? We can't afford something
like this on... 6.50 an officer.

(Whispers) 6.57, actually.

- What about time, date and location?
- 1900 hours, 21st.

- Budget means we'll have to do it at home.
- What's the transport like that night?

- No tube strikes, if that's what you mean.
- Good.

- And we're sure Harry suspects nothing?
- Nothing.

We're not trying to enter Baghdad,
it's just a bloody birthday party!

Shh!

Right, OK...

(Rapid bleeping)

(Mobile dials number)

He's bang on time every night. Watch.

- That is so cool.
- And yet so simple.

Tom's phone allows him to sweep for bugs,
then prerecord a message.

It's digitally compressed, scrambled
and transmitted in 0.1 seconds.

- Almost impossible to intercept.
- (Harry) Thank you, Malcolm.

Eagle One has two ex-colleagues
from Desert Storm coming tomorrow.

Request confirmation
and any relevant background.

- Meeting at blue location, 1100 hours.
- What's the coefficient?

Minus six. He wants to meet at 5am.

Is it just me, or does he sound hacked off?

I wouldn't say this is his dream assignment.

You're lucky it's only section heads
who have to train with the regiment.

- I could cope.
- You in the Army?

They don't do designer khaki, mate.

You go. Try and cheer him up a bit.

I've got some background on the five men
Curtis led in and out of Iraq.

Sergeant-Major Baker.
Sergeant Wallace and Corporal Parks

- are joining Curtis tomorrow.
- Could you make prints for Tom?

OK.

The other two have left the Army -
William Scobey,

last seen in a homeless hostel
18 months ago -

and Derek Hanson,
lives on a north London council estate.

Might be worth a look.

Good.

Right, well,
time for three hours' sleep before I go.

I don't trust Woods.

- What's Harry saying?
- Stick with it.

Of course he does.

Correspondence from
the Chief Of Defence Staff's office.

Curtis has written 86 letters
over a five-year period -

suggestions, complaints and sarcasm
directed at the military brass.

He has issues with everything
from pensions to personal kit.

He argues a good case.

- He's right about the SA80 rifle.
- Harry's adamant.

- A strike could affect all the Armed Forces.
- Catastrophic, I know.

- I reckon 48 hours.
- What do you want me to say to Harry?

That I'm getting closer to Curtis...
and that I said hello.

Overnight intel.

I haven't done yesterday's, Ruth!
Don't you have top-sheet summaries?

- Just cherry-pick.
- That's your job!

- Not for much longer.
- What?

- How was Tom?
- Oh, grumpy.

He'll survive.

- What do you mean?
- Look. Of all government ministers,

I'd never have thought him a leather queen.

- No wonder he can't sort out the unions.
- Ruth!

Close-quarter battle, escape
and evasion, resisting interrogation -

we will be practising the basic drills
until we can do them at night,

under fire and on our chin-straps.

- Distribute the equipment, Sergeant-Major.
- Sir.

Today, you're going in that building
and we're going to pump tear gas in.

By the end of the day,
I want you in your respirators

within nine seconds of a gas alert.

If you don't, you'll end up in tears

because Sergeant-Major Baker
will stick his toe so far up your arse,

you'll be able to chew his toenails for him.

War is shit.

Anyone who tells you otherwise
has never been in one.

You train hard, you fight easy.

You train easy, you fight hard...

and die.

- Corporal!
- OK, fellas, start filing into the chamber.

Look, Ruth, Harry's not a fool.

You're good. He'll want to keep you here.

God, I hope so.
I don't want to go back to GCHQ.

Too many bloody mathematicians
for one thing.

Hanson quit the Army three years ago
to go on benefit.

Why didn't he re-enlist?
The Army needs experienced soldiers.

Well, I'll just go read a North Korea
Evening News or something.

What do you think?

Your job is about observation,
perception and intelligence,

and you failed on all three counts.

Remember, lads, be in time, masks in nine.

OK!

Back off!

Gas, gas, gas!

- Shit!
- Five, four, three...

- Gas, gas, gas!
- (Coughing and wheezing)

- I'm good at my job. Overworked, but good.
- No decision has been made yet.

RMT sources predict a wildcat strike on
West Midlands railway inside 30 minutes.

- What do they want?
- That's not the issue.

A load of spent nuclear fuel
en route to Dover

is about to grind to a halt
in open countryside.

Liaise with the nuclear authority
and get it moving!

Right. Good intel, Ruth. Thank you.

Thank you, Ruth.

Breathe, come on, breathe normally.
Cough it up, cough it all up.

Come on, come on. You'll be OK.
Happens to the best of us.

The first time I put on a respirator
I threw my guts up. Good job, David.

The company quartermaster should be shot.

- Accidents happen.
- Our equipment's a disgrace.

Rifles spitting cartridges in our face,

- gas masks falling apart...
- Thank you, David.

- Something should be done about it.
- That's enough, Lieutenant!

Right... we do it again.

(Danny) We've located Derek Hanson.
(Harry) Talk to him.

Find out if he's joining his former colleagues
for the class reunion.

And try not to spend all day in the pub.

How's that?

- Peffect. Thank you.
- All my own work.

Thank you.

- Hello.
- Whatever it is, the answer's no.

- But thanks for the drink.
- Thank you, I'd love to sit down.

I'm Rob Simkins.
I'm writing an article for Today's Soldier.

What ex-servicemen have done
since leaving the Army.

Piss off.

Mr Hanson, I know what you've
been through. I read the Sam Curtis book.

That bollocks.

I thought Curtis was your friend.

Curtis should never have told his story.

- Put us in the spotlight.
- He gave you pseudonyms.

Bugger all good that did.

You're here talking to me about it
ten years later!

The Nuclear Authority plans
to carry the spent nuke fuel by road

accompanied
by its own security personnel.

The convoy will be codenamed
the Stick. Arrives at Dover tomorrow, 6pm.

We've been tasked with maintaining
a rolling threat assessment.

This is highly-irradiated uranium
travelling across half the country.

If there's so much as a drawing pin
on the M25, I want to know about it.

You're the overseer.
Ruth will process reports as they come in.

This might sound routine

but something as simple as a puncture
could mean a very bad day. Thank you.

This is a chance to make yourself
indispensable in Harry's eyes, all right?

I've no idea where Scobey is. Lost touch.

Everyone has. He was in a hostel
two years ago, since then - nothing.

There you go. Lots of ex-servicemen
end up sleeping rough.

Meantime we provide hotels
for asylum seekers.

Still... can't all be the subject
of bestseller books, can we?

Why not? Never think of looking
for a ghostwriter, tell your side of the story?

Official Secrets Act, son.
I signed it and I take it very seriously.

Something people
don't understand any more.

I understand it. Come across it
all the time in this line of work.

Well, you've just run into it again.
That's why I don't talk about Iraq.

And Curtis shouldn't have either.

Everyone else seems to think
Sam Curtis is a legend.

In his own mirror, sure.

I passed SAS selection.

They binned me when the book came out.

You can't have a covert ops soldier

whose face has been on the front page
of every Western newspaper.

Curtis ruined my career.

I told him - I'm a soldier...
not a bloody chauffeur.

What do you mean?

Excuse me.

You're green slime, aren't you?

Army spook?

- Who are you?
- I've also signed the Act.

All I can tell you - it's important.

And I think we're on the same side.

Baker came to see me six months ago.

Said Curtis wanted to give me
a lead on a driving job.

I told him to stuff it.
He was looking for Scobey as well.

I don't know why. I don't want to know why.

I believe Curtis is trying to recruit
his own squad of wild geese.

- For what?
- No idea.

But no matter what he says,

you can bet it'll be
for the greater glory of Sam Curtis.

Operational tours in Bosnia,
Belfast and Sierra Leone...

Hmm.

Clean progress.

Mr Getty seems extremely capable.

I'd like to know more, though.
Dig deeper. Put Wallace on to it.

- Sir.
- Corporal Woods, do you need me?

Sorry, sir. I didn't want to interrupt.

Today's op report, sir.

Dismissed, Corporal.

(Doorbell)

Hello there. Mr Getty?

- Yes?
- Hi. I'm a friend of David's.

We served together in Belfast.

- Said I'd pop by if I was passing.
- I'm afraid David isn't here.

- Overseas, is he?
- No, he's on exercise in the UK.

Well, if you'd like to leave your details,
I'll pass them on.

I'll leave it, actually.
But thank you very much.

(Dialling tone, dials two-digit number)

(Getty) This is Gate Keeper.

He's not just a drunk with a grudge,
jumping to conclusions?

I think Hanson's a good ex-soldier
turning his back on backhanders.

It seems the dockers are going to
come out in sympathy with the RMT.

If Dover shuts down,
we have a batch of uranium sitting around.

- How long?
- 24 hours earliest.

All agents are on it. This could be
coordinated nationwide action.

Hassle the Nuclear Authority.
Tell them to get that convoy moving.

We're in Head-of-Section territory.
Tom's absent - you run this op.

Someone just took an eyeball
at Tom's legend.

- Fitted Wallace's description.
- I think Hanson was telling the truth today.

Update Tom.

Zoe, CIA are looking for Tom on line four.

Hi. It's Zoe. Tom's on operation.
I'm acting CIA liaison.

- I thought he was quiet.
- Is there anything I can do?

No. How long's he away for?

- Well, you know...
- If you speak to him, tell him I said hello.

Sure. Bye.

It stands up, Sam. Wallace saw his parents,
I've checked his records.

They even include a disciplinary charge -

taking stores abandoned by the enemy.

He found an IRA arms dump in Armagh
four years ago.

It included a case of whiskey
which ended up in the bar in the NAAFI.

Good for him.

He might be one of us.

Tell him I'd like to see him.

George Bingham - 3rd Earl of Lucan.

Sent 500 men into the valley of death.
Charge of the Light Brigade.

It's, er... It's there to remind me

how easy it is for a soldier
to be remembered for the wrong reasons.

- Drink?
- Thank you, sir.

Take a seat.

War is just an adventure
to some of our boys.

What they've been waiting for
after months of training. They've no idea.

No one does, till they're in one.

A teenager signs up for the Army.
Spent his whole life wearing trainers.

Suddenly we give him a dirty great
pair of boots - usually the wrong size.

Ends up buying his own ciwy pair.

You can't turn a man into a soldier
if you start by crippling him.

(Mobile rings)

Excuse me.

(Bleeps)

- Did you take part in Operation Fresco?
- Yeah. I just got back from Belfast.

I was due three weeks' leave
but they handed me a Green Goddess.

- Still haven't made up the leave.
- Try explaining to the junior ranks

why they're covering
for firefighters earning twice as much.

- You didn't agree with the strike?
- On the contrary.

Firemen risk their lives. So do we.

How do you put a salary bracket on that?

I, um... I understand what you were saying
about rifles and respirators.

- You're not wrong.
- Can't you do anything about it?

I can only look after the men below me.
I can't be responsible for the ones above.

Hmm.

We have to trust that our superiors
know what they're doing.

That's the irony in defending democracy.

You do it for peanuts and your equipment
is made by the cheapest bidder.

Belfast. You were at Blackwood barracks?

- Yes.
- Sullen part of town.

Two communities next to each other,

a Brit base in the middle -
pretty vicious, yes.

Your OC there was Tim Darbyshire, right?

I'm not trying to make you paranoid.

New platoon commander in my company.
I looked at your background.

Did you find anything interesting?

To be honest, David,
you need to get out more.

My Auntie Alice has a more exciting life.

Oh, damn it, I'll go grab another.

(Bleeps)

- (Clock chimes)
- Here we go.

A little top-up.

Cheers.

Here's a question for you, David -

some of the stuff we've discussed...

- How strongly do you feel about it?
- How do you mean?

I mean... would you take the chance
to do something?

If I really thought
it would make any difference.

I have a small... protest in mind.

Great if I could count on your support.

What... form would this protest take?

I'm asking each man in the company...

if he's prepared...

to sign this.

The issues we're worried about.

I reckon I can get it direct to Downing Street.

It's a petition. You're organising a petition.

- You've got to start somewhere, David.
- Do you have a pen?

They're about ready to go.
Nuclear Authority Central Control

have been given call sign Polestar.

- Tell Polestar we're ready.
- Polestar, this is Thamesider. We're ready.

(Man) 'Copy that.'

- Well, it's just you and me now.
- (Ruth) And they're off.

Hardly the Wacky Races, is it?

Eagle One is not a threat.

He is simply exercising
his democratic right to written protest.

Nightingale, however,
should be sent to the Tower.

He's didn't even tell us
Eagle One had two mobile phones.

Those of you of a paranoid disposition
may confirm Eagle One's innocence

by listening, unlawfully, to his voicemail
on the following number - 07979234642.

My next call will be at 0700 hours,
when I'll tell you how I want to be extracted

from this badly-sourced
pig's ear of an operation. Night-night.

- Is he pissed?
- Tired. Night exercise earlier in the week,

rendezvous with me early yesterday.
Let him sleep.

- Curtis' voicebox is PIN-protected.
- Get the code from his service provider.

- I don't like it.
- Damn it!

The dockers are coming out,
7 pm tomorrow. Let Polestar know.

The Stick has to stay on schedule.

Polestar, be advised - industrial action
at Dover in less than 20 hours.

- Vital you maintain schedule.
- 'Copy that, Thamesider.'

We must stay on our toes. The Stick
must be put to bed by 6pm tomorrow.

Sam, you can get off.

Harry's present. 25-year-old malt.

- Good choice.
- Uh-huh.

- See you tomorrow.
- Listen, er... d'you want to...

some night... obviously when
we're a bit less busy... maybe, er...?

Do you want to grab a beer sometime?

- Maybe dinner?
- We work together.

I know. That's the good bit.
They like us to date each other.

- Security reasons.
- Whose? Theirs or ours?

- Harry would be thrilled.
- You really know how to flatter a girl!

D'you want to go out with me
or get into Tom and Harry's good books?

The first bit. Definitely.

Thought you'd never ask.

- Why am I here?
- Shut up, arsehole!

- I don't understand. What's going on?!
- Shut up!

- It's just an exercise, Corporal, stay calm.
- Shut up! Him, out!

You, in!

Get rid of that.

Right! Name?

Getty. David.

- Name!
- Getty. David.

Name! Your real name!

- Getty. David.
- You've forgotten it!

You've forgotten your real name.

- Who are you?
- Getty. David.

How do I spell Getty? With a "y" or "ie"?

- I cannot answer that question.
- It's hardly a trick question!

- Rank?
- Lieutenant.

- Regiment?
- I cannot answer that.

Are you stupid?
You must know your regiment!

- I cannot answer that question.
- You're in the shit, son!

I need to know your regiment to get you out!

- Number?
- 541232.

- Regiment?
- I cannot answer that.

Look, arsehole, name, rank, number
means nothing to me.

Any bastard can make those up.

Until you tell me your regiment,
you're not getting out of here.

Well played, Lieutenant.

Now, get some sleep.

Is this an exercise?

What do you want to know?

I can help you, you know...

if it's not an exercise.

What do you mean, Corporal?

(Alarm)

- How long now?
- 12 minutes.

I'm telling Harry.

Harry, Tom's missed a scheduled call-in.

- How late?
- 12 minutes.

Run the contingency plan.

Reassuring to know backup plans
actually work.

My mobile was damaged
in a training exercise. Everything's fine.

- Got the transfer orders?
- Yes.

- David Getty is being sent back to Belfast.
- Good.

The MOD were hoping
I'd find something dirty on Curtis,

but he's a first-class soldier.

I didn't get into this job
to spy on my own side.

I regard Curtis as a colleague.

We're all doing the same job -
protecting this country.

He's a loose cannon.
He's lonely, rather pleased with himself

and pissed off about Army issues,
none of which constitute treason.

The paperwork will clear
by the end of the day.

- No one will know you weren't for real.
- Hm. Story of my life.

Second opinion. Curtis's voicebox -
he deletes messages after playback.

It's taken me till now to recover it
from the storage computer.

(Man) 'Strike One reporting in.
Confirm RV at 0830 hours.'

That could mean anything.
Have you tried voiceprinting?

(Curtis) Bring him over here.

- Morning, David. Sleep well?
- What I got of it, yes.

Lucky you. We were up all night.
Had a whole platoon to interrogate.

- Have you enjoyed your posting here?
- I've had considerably worse.

Hmm.

Makes a change
from sleeping with Russian spies

or eavesdropping
on Libyan trade delegations,

or whatever it is you people do.

I don't know what you're talking about.

Corporal Woods finally decided
where his loyalties lie.

You people screwed up your chance
to defend the West.

Now it's down to us, the armies,
to sort it out.

So you'll forgive me if I'm pissed off

that Ml5 investigated
a distinguished Army officer

at a time when espionage efforts
could be better used elsewhere.

I was only following orders.
I'm sure you can understand that.

Apology accepted.

What did you think I was up to, anyway?

We received information that you were
going to lead your men into industrial action.

- Industrial action?
- Yes.

Do I look like a socialist to you?

Sitting around refusing to do
what I'm trained to do isn't exactly my style.

On the truck, please.

Move it!

Load up!

There were no database matches
for the voiceprint.

Curtis's mobile provider says
that call came from there.

- (Harry) The Stick's starting point.
- Someone in that convoy called Curtis.

Where's Danny? Red flash him!

Hanson said Curtis offered him
a driving job. Who's driving the Stick?

Personnel records
from the Nuclear Authority.

Snap! William Scobey. Our missing,
presumed dead, team member.

- He's driving the Stick.
- Danny's phone is dead.

The Nuclear Authority routinely recruits
ex-military as drivers and escorts.

- Scobey's a plant.
- Polestar? Polestar, you have a situation.

Don't worry...

no one will get hurt.

(Man) What's happening?

Go, go, go, go!

Arms down!

(Man) Shit, what's happening?

- In position!
- Move! Move!

- Move it!
- Hands where we can see them!

- (Police radio static)
- (lndistinct shouting)

Get out of the car, now! Get out!

- Out of the car!
- Go!

What's happening, Polestar?
What's going on?

(lndistinct shouting)

Out!

Move!

(Curtis) Friend of yours, I believe.

This is for you, sir.

- Nice to be working with you again.
- And you, sir.

- Secure the perimeter, gentlemen.
- Take your positions!

I know you're not a bad man, David,
or whatever your name is.

- But, you see, neither am I.
- What are you planning to do?

I just want to make a point.

Close-up on Stick's location.

(Zoe) Only ten miles from central London!

Christ.

Clear all other radio transmissions.
I want to hear them.

Ready when you are, Major.

This is Major Sam Curtis.

'I have control of the nuclear transportation
known to you as Stick One.'

You will see from your GPS tracker
our exact location

and you might want to start
evacuating the area.

Almost 500 British soldiers
have died since the first Gulf War.

Cause of death - Gulf War Syndrome.

'45,000 service personnel
recently went into a second Gulf conflict

'and we're left with an army
that can't fight for at least 18 months.'

The authorities expect men
to take the same risks again and again,

with inferior weapons, minimal
life insurance and laughable salaries.

'A list of the issues I demand
the government address

'has been faxed to the Chief of Defence... '

"Compensation and treatment for victims
of Gulf War Syndrome and PTSD,

"a 50% pay hike..." You can guess the rest.

I've been campaigning
in every legitimate way possible for years

but Whitehall refuses to take me seriously.
So now it's come to this.

If my terms are not agreed
in the next 30 minutes,

I'll be transmitting a videotape
from my location via sat-phone

to every major Western broadcaster.

I don't think I flatter myself that it will be
headline news when they realise who I am

and when they see I've surrounded
a truckload of irradiated uranium

with 50 pounds of plastic explosive.

If my terms are still not met

within 60 minutes...

(Bleeping)

...then southeast England
will be twinned with Chernobyl.

Somebody better get back to me quick.
The clock's started ticking.

And they thought
I was a pain in the arse before.

- You won't do it.
- You think? What choice do I have?

Your presence here
pretty much makes my case for me.

It seems Third World
and Eastern bloc dictators

are not the only powers
who infiltrate their military.

We're establishing
a 20-mile cordon sanitaire around the Stick.

The police are evacuating civilians
from the immediate area,

saying there's a broken gas pipe.
A counterterrorist team is going in.

Curtis has created
the world's biggest dirty bomb.

- What about Tom and Danny?
- I know.

He can't explode the Stick.
I mean, he physically can't.

The container's made of
titanium steel several feet thick.

It requires specialised tools
to open, not just a screwdriver.

(Zoe) Those are oil vats.
He's going to bomb those.

It's a massive oil fire.
What would that do to uranium?

It would make it very angry.

Counterterrorist team are in position, Major.

I don't think
we need trouble ourselves about that.

The CT team are in place
and setting up a video feed now.

Tom and Danny must be in there.

(Man) 'Sierra One, uploading VT link now.'

Thank you, Sierra One.
Can you zoom in any closer?

We have visuals!

'No one's talking to me yet.'

MOD.

Sam, patch me into the Stick
Communications. I'll talk to this bastard.

- Harry Pearce.
- Grid request a talk-thru on this line.

Let's hope it doesn't come to that.
Keep this line open.

'You people in Ml5, I know you're listening.
I've got two of your men here.

'They'll each be receiving their very own
close-up on international news channels.'

Major Curtis.

- Identify yourself.
- Are my officers OK?

Of course. I'm not Genghis Khan.

- Let me speak to them.
- Negative, Mr Ml5.

Work with him. Let us get you out of this.

We know everything, Major.
We even know about William Scobey.

Would we put him at the wheel
of a genuine consignment of nuclear waste?

- You're bluffing.
- He's not.

We've been running this operation
for weeks.

(Harry) 'You want to open
Pandora's box and find out? '

You blow that site,
you just kill your own men.

Listen to him. My assignment
was to prove your innocence.

'There is still a way back from this.'

It appears no one's taking me seriously...

So if someone doesn't make me an offer
in the next five minutes, I'll execute a spy.

'Like me, you get paid to take the risk.'

He's losing it.

- Can't we call his bluff?
- Let me talk to the MOD.

- I hate it when people don't listen.
- They want you to do this.

- Then I'm happy to oblige.
- Sam!

- Shut up!
- 'Sierra One. I have a shot on primary.

- 'Advise. Over.'
- (Tom) 'You're being manipulated.'

They want you to self-destruct.
This is the only way to stop you.

Don't be remembered
for the wrong reasons.

Don't lead your men into the valley of death.

Don't. They will take the kill shot.

Of course. Thank you. Sierra One link.

(Tom) Now you've made your point.
You can't be ignored now.

Drop your weapon, Major.

Your men will be massacred.
Stand them down.

Sierra One - green light.

There isn't a British soldier alive
who'd take a shot at me.

- (Sierra One) 'T-1 neutralised.'
- (Helicopter hovering)

Tom!

Hey, Malcolm.

- Welcome back.
- Thanks.

- How are you doing?
- Good.

'... following his death in a car crash today,
Major Curtis... '

- Harry renewed my secondment.
- Curtis' videotape has gone away.

- Hey, stranger...
- Hey.

You look tired.

You look great.

My place? Later?

- Happy birthday.
- Welcome back.

- Chat?
- Absolutely.

- How long's that been going on?
- Not long.

- What happened to you?
- Who ordered Curtis's death?

- That doesn't matter.
- Did you? Or someone else?

Curtis was out of control.

I could have talked him down.
He was about to surrender!

- We neutralised a threat to security.
- What part did Woods play?

Hm? Did he get a deal?

Lmmunity? Promotion?
He was a setup, wasn't he?

A plant from the MOD.

If Curtis had been a terrorist,

you wouldn't have questioned
how we resolved it.

I misjudged him.
Worse - I allowed myself to be used

by the government for their own ends.

They wanted Curtis silenced.
This country's army would never mutiny!

It does everything asked of it and more.
Curtis was only trying to give them a voice.

You got too close to the subject.
Don't let personal feelings...

Personal feelings?
Yeah, I have personal feelings...

- Well, bury them...
- Fuck you!

If the new world order means we destroy
anyone who questions the political agenda,

then I'm in the wrong job!

Take a long weekend.

- Then put this operation behind you.
- Shame on you, Harry,

- for allowing us to be manipulated.
- It's over!

I will take your debriefing later.
And as regards Mata Hari out there,

no fraternising with foreign operatives,
even if they're friendlies.

- I won't be dictated to.
- Never question my decisions! End it.

I don't care how, I do care when.
Next time I see you, you're a single man.

Three lives taken - matter of minutes.

Sit down.
Eight lives. What have we learned?

Nothing, apart from
a little Colombian girlfriend.

- Want a coffee?
- OK.

It would be better for this girl
if you didn't see her again.

Hello, Mariella.

An oil executive is giving a lift
to the girlfriend of a terrorist.

They're going to swap drugs for missiles.

Let's talk about Rafa.

That woman has the morality
of a puff adder!

- 'Hello, Harry.'
- We don't need Harry and Tessa

playing one-upmanship.

Are you playing games?

Mastefful.
We let a stack of drugs into the country.

Your plan is what, Harry?