All language subtitles for Spooks.S02E08.Strike.Force.WEB-DL.DDP2.0.H.264-squalor

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

Danny?

I only said I'd do it
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 out masters,
not our pleasure. I don't know!

You look amazing.
Thank you. ..Some other time.

Yeah, I'd like that.

This programme contains
some strong language.

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...'

Charles Lindsay. The man
who had the fling with the guy?

Who knew the girl
who sold the thing? Yep.

'..that commuters were were the pawn
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.

You press this button here.

'..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.

This programme contains
some strong language.

Shit.

What's going on today in
the wonderful 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.

50 agents in key sectors all saying
the same thing. Specifically?

As 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?

SHOUTING

Enemy front! Enemy front!

Hold on.

CONFUSED SHOUTING

Whoa, whoa!
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!

Return your men to barracks. Sir.

Sergeant-Major,
stand the rest of the men down. Sir!

'Tom has been contacting us daily
at 0700 and 2300 hours without fail.

'Curtis's company are next in line
for overseas deployment,
so 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 may be wasting our time.

No strike cover
for industrial disputes?

No security back-up
in a 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?

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 best-seller.

Eric Woods glassed a man in a pub,
then put the spotlight on Curtis.

I say pass this over
to Army Intelligence.

Curtis' 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 as 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 anybody 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?

The bonds that men forge in battle
are strong. 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?
Nineteen. Budget? 125.

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

£6.57, actually.

What about time, date and location?
1900 hours,

21st. Budget means we'll have to do
it at home. Transport that night?

No Tube strikes planned,
if that's what you mean.

Good, good. ..And we're sure
Harry suspects nothing? Nothing.

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

Ssh!

Right, OK...

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.
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.

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, Sgt Phillip
Wallace and Corporal Harry Parks

are joining Curtis tomorrow. Can you
make a couple of 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. 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 spread through the
Armed Forces. Catastrophic, I know.

I reckon forty-eight 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.

Ruth? Look. Of all government
ministers, I'd never have made him
for a leather queen.

No wonder he hasn't got time
to sort out the unions. Ruth!

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

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

under fire and on our chin-straps.

Distribute the equipment, Sgt-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, Sergeant-Major
Baker will stick his toe

so far up your arse, that 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.

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!

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

A wildcat strike
is due on West Midlands railway.
What do they want?

That's not the issue.
A load of spent nuclear fuel
is going to Dover by rail.

It's about to grind to a halt
in open countryside.
Well, get it moving again!

Right.
..Good intel, Ruth. Thank you.

Thank you, Ruth.

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

You'll be all right. Come on,
come on. 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.
Enough, Lieutenant!

Right...

we do it again.

The watchers have located
Derek Hanson. 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?

Perfect. Thank you.
All my own work.

Hello. Whatever it is, the answer's
no. But thanks for the drink.

Thank you.

My name's 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 all of 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 6pm.

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

This is highly irradiated uranium
travelling across half the country.

If there's even 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. Thanks.

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

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 ghost-writer,
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 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 some sort of driving job.

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

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

I think 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...

Hmmm.

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 reports, 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.

DIALS NUMBER
This is Gate Keeper.

He's not just a drunk
with a grudge.

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
co-ordinated 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 Phillip
Wallace's description.

I think Derek Hanson was telling me
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... Right, 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

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 all his life wearing trainers.

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

Ends up buying his own civvy pair.

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

MOBILE RINGS
Excuse me.

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
fire-fighters earning twice as much.

You didn't agree with the strike?
On the contrary.
Firemen risk their lives. So do we.

How d'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.

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

Mmmm. 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 has a more exciting life.

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

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.
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.

You may confirm Eagle One's
innocence by listening to his
voicemail on the following number -

07-979-234-642.

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 in the small
hours yesterday. Let him sleep.

Curtis' voicebox is PIN-protected.
Get the code from his service
provider. Let's be sure.

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

The Stick has to stay on schedule.

Polestar, Polestar, be advised -
industrial action at Dover

in less than 20 hours.
Vital you maintain schedule.

'Copied 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.

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

It's just an exercise, Corporal.
Shut up! ..Get 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 can't answer
that. 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! I need to know
your regiment to get you out!

Number? 541232. Regiment?
I cannot answer that question.

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 GOES OFF

How long now? Twelve minutes.

I'm telling Harry.

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

How late? Twelve minutes.
Run the contingency plan.

Reassuring to know back-up plans
actually work.

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

Got the transfer orders? Yes.
Lt 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.

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.

'Strike One reporting in.
Confirm RV at 0830 hours.'

Well, that could mean anything.
Have you tried voice-printing?

< 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 MI5 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 considering 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. I spoke
to Curtis' mobile service provider.

The call he received came from
there. The Stick's starting point.

Someone in that convoy called Curtis
last night. Where's Danny? Get him!

Hanson told Danny that 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.

What's happening?

Go, go, go, go!

Shit, what's happening?

Get out of the car! Get out!

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

Friend of yours, I believe. >

This is for you, sir. Nice to be
working with you again. And you.

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.

That's only ten miles
from the centre of 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
British 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..."

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,
but it will be headline news...

especially 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...

..then south-east 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 n 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.

The 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
counter-terrorist team is going in.

Curtis has created the world's
biggest dirty bomb. Tom and Danny?

I know. He can't explode the Stick.
I'd like to believe that.

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.

These 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.

Counter-terrorist 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.

'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 MI5. 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 MI5.

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. No. We've been
running this operation for weeks.

Do 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
is taking me seriously...

So if someone doesn't make me
an offer in the next five minutes,
I'm going to 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!

'This is Sierra One. I have a shot
on primary. Advise. Over.'

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.

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.

'T-1 neutralised.'
HELICOPTER WHIRRS

Tom!

Hey, Malcolm.

Welcome back. Thanks. How are you?

TV:
'..Following his death in a car
accident today, Major Curtis...'

- Harry's 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' 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?

Mmm? Did he get a deal?

Immunity? Promotion?
He was a set-up, wasn't he?

A plant from the MOD.

What if Curtis had been
a international 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!

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 single.

Three lives taken -
matter of minutes.

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 swop drugs
for missiles.

Let's discuss it. 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?

We let a stack of drugs into the
country. Your plan is what, Harry?