All language subtitles for The Agency (2024) S01E03 - VO HD 1080p - ELiTE

I thought I could let you go.

Make it all easier for you.
For me.

I have to go.

Maybe she has a plane to catch.

With no luggage?

Dr. Blake is over
from our psych department,

here to evaluate mental health

- across the Department.
- Sure you are.

How many of Coyote's sources
have we notified?

I contacted a fourth
who sounded spooked.

It's Alexei Orekhov.

We need to exfiltrate him now.

You really think
he's that unstable?

Nope. I think we can use him.

You're being sent
to Tehran to identify.

Iranian nuclear engineers.

What if I don't make it in?

Figure out something else
to do with your life.

We have Orekhov.

"I report to Moscow."

- "I work for..."
- What's happening?

He's quacking.

"...the Americans
and the Russians."

Felix is the heaviest

of heavy, heavy shit,

and nobody would ever mention,

ever.

I'm looking for someone

attending your conference.

Dr. Samia Zahir?

Yes, uh, she has not
been back since the first day.

Batter up. Phone's awake.

Signal's gone.

Elevator? Parking garage?

New software.

Even if he gets on the subway,

sends out a Wi-Fi signal,
relays it.

It'll come back.
He can't get far.

Underground.

- Excuse me?
- Uh, you said "subway."

It's the called the
"underground," or the "tube."

Is that right? I said "subway"?

- Yeah.
- Did that-that irritate you?

That I said "subway"?
Didn't you just say "elevator"?

Didn't you just say "elevator"?

Evening, Mr. Lewis.

Your guest arrived
half an hour ago.

Thank you.

Let's pretend

this coffee is just like
the coffee in Addis.

What's wrong?

- I'm just tired.
- Are you okay?

I have a deadline.
My publisher's going nuts.

Wait. You-you finished?

No, uh, three chapters.

It was going fine.

Then I hit a bump.

- Well, congratulations.
- Why?

You have writer's block.

So that means
you're a real writer.

Well, you know what they say
is good for writer's block?

Hmm?

Ask anyone.

They will all tell you.

Okay.

So, how's your course going?

My course?

Well, let's see.
Generally speaking?

The lectures are dry, tedious,

mind-numbing
and/or deathly dull.

But you're getting by.

I guess I have
a high boredom threshold.

Don't take that the wrong way.

- Samia...
- I dreamt about you.

Not about you, about us.

We had a little apartment
at the top of the stairs.

There was a bathtub
in the kitchen.

Anyway, we were in the tub,

the sun was shining.

You looked at me...

and you smiled.

And...

Don't answer it.

Why not?

- Because.
- Because what?

Shall I answer it?

- Hello?
- It's me.

Wow.

Thought I was off the clock.

Come downstairs.

Who was it?

- You're not gonna believe this.
- Paul.

- Not in a million...
- Tell me, who was it?

My publisher.

What?

It's... it's-it's
nearly midnight.

His office is around the corner.

I told him
he could find me here.

He just needs to shout at me
before he flies

to the Frankfurt book fair.

Give me ten minutes.

Tell him you have
writer's block.

You killed your phone.

And you tracked me.

How? CCTV?

Which I should not have to do.

Like I shouldn't be tailed
by a couple of morons.

I'm not hiding.
You called, I picked up.

- After...
- Harry?

Excuse me.

After dropping off
the map for hours.

Jesus Christ.

- You slipped your tail.
- So get a better one.

What difference does it make
if I'm here or at home?

I checked the register.

You're signed in as Paul Lewis?

The woman up in the room,

- she's married.
- And you thought you'd use

your covert Agency legend
to fuck her.

I mean, I'm out here
saying you don't have PMD,

and then, poof, like magic,
in walks Paul Lewis.

Henry.

Gadding around,
banging married women?

Why are you using
a defunct identity to...

Martian, I cannot know this.

Then stop following me.

You deployed undercover
for years.

People come back
damaged from that.

Can't sleep. Flashbacks.

Some go absolute raving
fucking lunatic insane.

Therefore, we have protocols.

For instance, we follow you.

This has to stop.

- I understand.
- No, I mean it.

You get one for free.
Two, you're on your own.

Where are you going?

- To say goodbye.
- No.

- I have to explain...
- Martian.

- I have to explain why I left.
- Walk away.

- Henry.
- Walk away, Martian.

It'll make it worse.
She'll be suspicious.

No, it will not. You know why?

Because Paul Lewis
doesn't exist.

He turns the corner,

and he's gone forever.

It was a fuck.

You made a mistake.

You acknowledge
the error in judgment,

and you thank me
for understanding.

This isn't national security.
It's personal.

It's the Agency.

Nothing is personal!

Ladbroke Grove, please.

When you're done with breakfast,

there's a safe house.

It's a farm out of London.

We'll provide food
and a therapist.

We had no choice, Alexei.
I hope you understand...

No choice. No choice?

How about I tie you
to a fucking chair?!

Three years!

Three years of loyalty!

You pitiless, soulless ghouls!

I will never work for you again.
Hear me?!

- Never!
- You have to put this back on.

Fuck you!

Don't fucking touch me!

Get your hands off me!

Again the Ukrainian army is

on the defensive and digging in

to hold on to key cities
in the east of the country.

Henry?

This includes Pokrov,

which is seen as strategically
important to fighting...

Henry?

What's wrong?

I have a Zoom with Charlie,
but the link's down.

I can't find him.

Mm, it's probably
just a server glitch.

He's never missed a time.

You're right, it's probably
a glitch or something.

It'll pop up later.

- I have to go to work.
- Mm-hmm.

Love you.

Love you, too.

You know, you've...
you've got that look.

What look?

The cowboy who's been shot
but isn't gonna let anyone know.

I'm just a little tired.

Charlie's okay, right?

You don't know anything?

I know bad news travels.

I know he has a lot of people
watching over him.

And I know I'm not one of them.

See ya.

Coyote's network appears sound.

The live missions we put on hold

while we verified
operational security

are back online.

Thunderbird, Rattlebox, Niagra.

Uh, all except Felix.

I received
your direct order on that.

You know, Felix is
the ball game.

I can count on the fingers
of one hand

how many people know about it,
including POTUS.

I understand.

Felix is an operation
of extreme sensitivity.

Meanwhile, you still
don't have your agent back.

Not as yet, no. No, sir.

This briefing is adjourned

and will recommence
in ten minutes, in The Cube.

Yes, sir.

Get me the boys down in SIGINT.

Uh-huh.

Yes, sir.

Big Man in the Cube.
Ten minutes.

World War III?

Well, that or an alien invasion.

- Okay, let's go.
- Okay.

They're ready for you, sir.

All set?

Yes. Uh, so once
the door's locked,

the system boots
for biometric log-in...

Yeah, I know, I know.

- Morning.
- Hey, look, it's my stalker.

Can you keep a secret?

I forgot about
your sense of humor.

I fucked up.

Recently. For personal reasons.

I owned it, put it right.

We're not machines.

Yet.

James Bradley,

Chief London station.

How you doing in there?

Cozy.

You ready to rock?

Yes, sir.

This is a, uh, briefing

on the top secret operation
code-named Felix.

The Reaper footage shows

they were chased into the quarry
by two Russian Tigr APCs.

Ten minute firefight.

After which, two Tigrs exit
the quarry onto the main road.

- Alone.
- All comms are blackout?

They followed protocol

for emergency abort
and went dark.

Assuming they follow protocol

to the letter, what next?
Go to ground?

For 48 hours, then resume
their extraction route.

We keep the route open,
pray they make contact.

Well, we can do more than pray.
We can find them.

How recent are these maps?

All of these military units
are on the move, right?

The front has moved at several

key flash points.

This entire area is now
deep behind enemy lines.

That puts conventional
search and rescue,

helicopters, drones,
all off the menu.

Three guys, trained to vanish,

in thousands of square miles
of open country.

Needle, meet haystack.

Felix is on pause,
so that gives us some time.

Felix is active.

Since when?

Felix is a mission
of the utmost sensitivity.

The capture of these operatives
would constitute an immediate

strategic geopolitical disaster.
We have to get them back.

It's crucial
to national security,

but even more crucial is
that we do not,

under any circumstances,
reveal their covert activity.

You find them. Bring them back.

Whatever it takes.

That way. Quick.

On the right, on the right.
You see it? There.

Yeah.

The front line is moving daily.

We could easily run into
another control point or patrol.

I'm more worried about
spotter drones.

Now, we need to move,

but being on the road,
we're an obvious target.

- What's that?
- Stop the car. Stop the car.

That's armor on the move.

- Russian tanks.
- Fuck.

Turn us around.

This whole section is
crawling with Red Army.

I'm gonna show you what to do.

I want you to drive ten klicks.

We're going to find
woodland or forest.

- Okay. And then what?
- Then we vanish.

All right? We go dark.

Go. Go, go. Get us out of here.

- Martian.
- Dr. Blake.

- Did you forget?
- Unfortunately,

right now,
I have other priorities,

one of which is
national security.

I'm sorry. I'll rearrange.

Owen.

- Hmm?
- Talk to me about long-range IR.

Specifically?

We have satellites over Ukraine
with infrared cameras.

Gambit 3, Lanyard 9 and Hexagon.

- But...
- But?

If you're looking for a
human being, you can forget it.

The resolution
on even most advanced kit

is only about 20 meters.

- Shit.
- I know.

What's with the plastic?

Incontinence.

Langley briefed you.

On Felix.

- I can neither confirm nor deny.
- Right.

From the look on your face,
I-I can... imagine.

Yes, I imagine you can.

How... warm...

am I?

Look, I'm not asking you to...

Fuck it. Forget it.

Forget it.

Henry.

There are 170,000 words
in the English language.

Each year, 2,000 of them
become obsolete.

And in the-the great
verbal bathtub

of our collective being,

presently circling around
that open drain

are these words:

"stoicism,"

"fortitude,"

"duty," "honor," "sacrifice."

I know how hard this is
for you right now.

Heart versus job.

Soul versus duty.

That's where they put us.

Or where we put ourselves.

Either way,
I know it, you know it.

Charlie does, too.

He signed up for this.

We all did.

Yeah.

That guy wasn't just going fast.

He was going Tony Fast!

Huh? Oh, no.

The cops are after us.
What are we gonna do?

What? Sorry, I couldn't hear you

- over that siren.
- Hey.

- Hey.
- Good day?

- Eh, you know.
- What's that?

I couldn't hear you
over that helicopter.

- You been out?
- Hmm?

Poppy.

- What?
- I asked you a question.

Have you been out today?

Uh, no.

Sweet. Instant tannage.

Uh, I was watching that.

The entire apartment
reeks of weed.

I walk in the door,
you're sitting there,

Cheetos, SpongeBob.

What the hell is going on, Pop?

- Flat.
- What?

You said "apartment."
It's a flat.

Okay.

Your eyes are bright red.

My eyes are,

and have always been,
cobalt blue.

Perhaps you forgot.

This one,

age 11,
turned slightly bluey-green.

I don't smoke weed.

Impedes ambition
and stunts a growing brain.

It's the neighbors.
Guy next door.

- Classic Bohemian.
- It's not the neighbors.

Yeah, trust me.

It's coming through
the air vent.

Speaking of which, found this.

I was looking for somewhere
to hide my stash.

My "ganje."

And I thought,
"He'll never look here.

Not in a million years."

Great minds, huh?

What, you thought
I spent the entire day

just eating Cheetos?

Mr. SquarePants was my cover.

After you left,
I tore this place apart.

I went through drawers,
cupboards, everything.

Nine hours.

The air vent was
the last place I looked.

Aren't you worried that a kid

can figure out
your supersecret hiding place?

Although I doubt the KGB
is searching with

half the motive that I have.

'Cause let's face it,
there's national secrets

and then there's
"who the fuck your dad is."

Yeah.

You caught me.

I lied. Sorry.

Because we should be honest
with each other, shouldn't we?

Otherwise, what the fuck
are we doing here, Paul?

Do you know this place
isn't bugged?

Do you know who's listening?

This isn't a game.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

Poppy.

Poppy. Poppy.

- Hey.
- What happened?

Where did you go?

Uh, my publisher's a jumpy guy.

He told me to go straight home
or he'd cancel the book.

And you couldn't call?

Listen, can you meet me
tomorrow afternoon?

Langley's reviewing all intel

from sources
recruited by Coyote.

Russian subs in the Med,
Lukashenko's visit to Qatar,

the Spetsnaz bases
in the Donbas,

the Baltic Cooperation Council,
all of it.

If Coyote's rogue,

half our intel on Ukraine
is corrupt.

If not, and his cover's blown,

we've got more people
with their head in the noose

than just Felix.

How's Martian settling in?

He's fine.

No speed bumps?

You're not his handler anymore.

It's not always easy
to switch off.

You mean for him or for you?

Both, I guess.

Hey. How you doing?

Morning, sir.

Hey, so, how are the digs?

- Not too poky, I hope.
- Eh, it's fine.

Yeah. Yeah, that's good to hear.

Yeah, it's...
You're up in the Tower, right?

The Lauderdale at the Barbican.

Ah. Okay.

Hanging out with your kid,
your daughter, right?

- Poppy.
- Yeah.

Yeah. Well, that's great.

That's great.

I'm glad it's working out.

The apartment, I mean.

The flat.

Sometimes when
you wind a mission up that fast,

there's fallout.

And was there?

No. I mean, I think
he was a little thrown

by the speed of it all.

Martian was just pissed
that he got shut down.

Well, he dealt. He's a pro.

Anything you want to talk about,

my door's open, okay?

- Thank you.
- Henry.

Morning.

You told him.

Piss off, mate.

Then who did?

Not me.

Who?

Take a wild guess.

- Grandma.
- Or?

- Grandpa.
- Or?

Both.

Morons, huh?

Don't blame me.
I-I believed you.

Supposing the network is sound,

it doesn't mean that Coyote is.

Belarusian service were trained
for decades by the KGB.

They know how to run game.

So, Langley thinks.

Coyote is a double
who got pulled home.

Fed us fake intel
and we ate it up.

- For years.
- You knew him.

What would make him
vulnerable to turning?

On the surface?

- Nothing.
- What about below the surface?

Coverts flip for two reasons.

One, ideology,
two, a bag of money.

Only one in a hundred
is ideology.

There's a third reason.

Only other reason
I've known someone to flip,

betray their country,
is-is love.

I know how to find Felix.

Two Ukrainian SF kids
and one senior Delta.

So he's calling the shots.

He won't want to move far.
Moving risks engagement.

Draw a 20-kilometer radius.

Discount buildings, open ground.

Section every wood
larger than three acres.

Search dead centers
of these sections.

That's our haystack.

Get time code
from surveillance satellites

and planes
that Owen's already on.

I've got the raw data
ready to search.

Look for single
car-sized heat patterns

that are stationary
then vanish within five minutes.

The Russians have drones up
with IR cameras.

Deltas are trained to pour water
on an engine block

to cut the heat signature.

That's our needle.

Thank you.

Have a good day.

Get down. Get down, get down.

No, that's not a random pattern.

Should we move?

It'll follow us.

Vehicle. Two klicks out.

Off-road. Moving fast.

Inbound.

What do we do?

It's your war, boys.

You call it.

I say we take position
and fight.

Seconded?

All right.

See you on the other side.

Quick. I hear it.

I have the shot.

Do we engage?

Wait.

On my command.

Can't identify. Wait.

Hold fire.

Movement.

Hold fire.

Friendlies. Do not engage.

Count to 50.
It's our turn to hide.

Who's this?

Resistance.

They can supply you with papers
and take you to a clinic

where the target is due
to arrive in a week.

Our mission's back on?

So it seems.

I'm happy
you made time for this.

These sessions are
an important part

of the process of reentry,

and it gives everyone,
including you,

the opportunity to gauge
where you are,

where you've been and...
where you're going to.

Should we dive in?

Before we begin, I want
to make something clear.

I've done this many times.

I've met with
many, many returning agents,

and they broadly fall into
two categories:

those who engage in the process
and those who resist.

It's...

It's pretty clear
which category you fall into.

What is your question, Doctor?

Do you see these sessions as...

some sort of hurdle,
something you have to game?

On the contrary.

My chosen career is
a psychological tightrope walk

over a pit of fire.

I need all the help I can get.

- How long were you undercover?
- This last hop, six years.

- What was your name?
- Paul Lewis.

So for six years,
you were Paul Lewis.

Yes.

How does it feel
to suddenly be Brandon again?

- What do you mean?
- What do you think I mean?

Well, I'm not sure.
See, I was always Brandon.

You had an ordinary life
out there?

No. It just had
to look like one.

And the friends you met?

- You leave 'em behind.
- How?

Same way you end any friendship.

Reply to emails less.
Be distant.

People forget.

And sexual relationships?

You've read my file.

Samia.
How do you cope with that?

Speak to your postman.
It's a process.

Are you aware
that you're giving brief,

some might even say curt,
replies to my questions?

I am now.

Your daughter, Poppy,
how is she coping?

"Coping"?

Her father returns
after years away,

she's going from a child
to a young woman,

now you're back...

Do you want to talk about that?

- May I say something?
- Of course.

Psychotherapy is a set
of psychological methods

that use regular
personal interaction

to induce behavioral changes,
overcome problems

and increase happiness.

I believe that's how Wikipedia

defines psychotherapy,
word for word.

So a normal psychotherapist
is hoping

to increase happiness
and overcome problems.

I'm a clinical psychologist,
but I know where you're going.

Good. Can I go?

Please. My apologies. Continue.

You said just now
there are two types of agent.

Broadly speaking.

I was speaking about
something very specific.

Why are you
shutting me down, Doctor?

- I'm...
- I'm trying to...

- Okay.
- I'm trying to say something

and you don't want me to say it.

- No, I'm not.
- Yes, you are.

I'm...

Well...

anyone watching the tape
of this session,

anyone who isn't you,
may not agree with that.

They may think
you're being defensive.

This is not my first rodeo.

It's not a rodeo.

Anyone watching this tape

might think
I was being defensive.

That's their right.

They might also
sense aggression.

Anger. Frustration. Pain.

You think it's possible
that you're the one

who's being defensive?

That you may have
something to defend?

Perhaps even to hide?

Okay, I think...

You said there's
two types of agent.

I believe there's one.

The insane.

Go and pretend to be
someone you're not.

Lie to everyone.

Risk your life on a daily basis.

Then come home,
just fucking deal.

No glamour, no money,
no exploding watch.

A nation needs protecting,
it builds an organization.

The CIA, this Department...

it seeks us out, targets us.

Individuals who need something.

Something they can't get
anyplace else.

It nurtures us,
weans us, feeds us

and sends us out
into the world to behave

in entirely unhealthy, devious,
deviant, dangerous ways.

And then when we come back,
it asks us how we feel.

And all the while, it's hoping

we don't suddenly flip
and become well

and can no longer do the job.

You're not trying
to help me, Doctor.

You're worried I may have
somehow become sane.

Well, I can assure you

the person
sitting in front of you

is, was, will remain
purely, deeply,

identifiably 100% nuts.

Not too nuts. Not "burst in here
and shoot everyone" nuts.

Just nuts enough.

Can I go now?

Hi. Uh, one ticket for Catch-22.

That's for running off.

How was class?

Same.

I went.

They hadn't seen you.
You haven't been going.

Wait, first you run off,
and now you're stalking me?

I thought we could have dinner.
I went to pick you up.

- Nice surprise...
- Playing the jealous husband?

I already have one of those.

Why are you lying?

I skipped
because it's pointless.

I don't need a European academic
explaining my subject to me.

So why enroll
in the first place?

To get a grant.

But why did I want to get away?

From my life, from being scared?

I was blown up, Paul.

Shot at.

I saw people get killed.

Surely you of all people
would understand

- why I would want to run away.
- So say that.

Why lie and try
to sell it to me?

It's not a lie.

Enjoy the film.

Why are you really running?

Are you even listening to me?

What do you do all day?

Be specific.

Why am I being interrogated?

Are you in London
because you knew I'm here?

If so, how did you know?

I had no idea. You called me.

You could've been in London
waiting for me to call you. Hey.

You think I would fly
all the way here

just to sit and wait
in case maybe you call me,

after months and months
of silence?

Well, did you?

I never thought
I would see you again.

Do I ask you where you live?

Why we only meet
when and where you say?

What you do all day?

Why you just vanished?

This isn't working.

Samia!

Yeah, Samia!

Samia!