Original subtitles

As-salamu alaykum.

As-salamu alaykum.

All right, I'll take that one.

You blew it again! Yeah, what sort of position's that to come from?

Game, set, and match, Bodhi.

Odie again?

What's the matter with him? I don't know.

Maybe he just likes the real thing.

The way he's shaping, he won't even be considered if it happens.

I've gone over your reports. They're very thorough, Jack. Thank you, sir.

Reading between the lines,

there seems to have been a deterioration in one of our best units. 3-7 and 4-5.

Bodie and the oil. Or not to beat about the bush, 3-7 themselves.

Bodie.

Yes.

Give me your considered opinion, Jack. Off the record.

Even with 3-7 below par, those two are still

a crack team. Oh, not that team, Jack Bodie.

He may just be going through a bad patch. Jack,

we know he's going through a bad patch. What I'm asking you is why.

Old age?

What?

It's a possibility. Oh, come off it.

I'm serious. Look at professional boxers. They're at their peak,

then suddenly the legs go. They keep on fighting,

fighting well for many years after, but everyone knows they're not where they were.

The legs have gone.

I've seen them go much younger than Bodhi. Clear!

Have you run a complete physical on him?

Yes, and I've disguised it by giving it to everyone else. And?

Well, all the medical, scientific stuff's tip-top. Oxygen capacity,

glycogen storage, the lot.

But then so they probably were with Randy Turpin when

he was over the hill. What about his reflexes?

There are no empirical tests to measure them to the accuracy needed.

Our boys are making calculations and adjustments at speeds

the human nervous system is not meant to be able to attain.

Could he be over-trained, maybe, still?

That can't be ruled out.

How would you deal with it if that was the case? Standard alternative.

Either we lay him off for a while, rest and test,

or we double his training load in all categories and examine again.

What do you call that routine?

Make or break.

How close is he to his limits right now? Could he take that sort of increase?

There's only one way to find out.

Well, we're not running a convalescent home, Jack, are we?

No, sir.

What are you two on, three-minute intervals?

Yeah.

Well, we'll try it again on two. 65. 65, that one didn't count.

All right, that's it.

You know, if you counted in French, I'd have made it.

Your arithmetical achievements are all behind you, my son.

You ever thought of becoming a missionary?

Listen, I don't like positions overseas, okay?

Instruction.

Each line contains an odd letter.

Answer one to five.

Instruction.

Following display is incorrect.

Answer A to B. Okay, I'm going to shorten your answer

time from one and a half seconds to half a second.

Instruction.

If 80 documents are encoded in half an hour, how many in seven and a half hours?

Answer A to E. How did I do, Doc?

Oh, for a mental defective, it was a genius score.

For a genius, it was mentally defective.

And what about those deliberately wild answers I threw in to confuse old Herbie?

I'm afraid your wild answers have long since ceased to take anyone by surprise.

Least of all the computer.

It already has a built-in personalised idiosyncrasy function just for you.

Kitty.

Has it never occurred to you that the only questions you deliberately answer

wrongly are the ones to which you easily know the right answers?

And has it further never penetrated your pretty curls that

the computer is fully aware of your areas of competence

and consequently takes special register of extreme

deviations from normal and expected competence?

What are you doing tonight?

As for taking refuge in sexual chauvinism,

you've already branded yourself loud and clear.

What? How?

By attributing masculinity to the computer.

Herbie?

And interestingly enough, although you make it male,

presumably because you feel somewhat in awe of its undoubted power,

you also feel impelled to denigrate it With a childish, patronising diminutive,

which suggests on the face of it a profound insecurity in sexual demarcations.

Wouldn't you agree, Bodie?

Oh, yes, miles out of his depth.

Still watching his struggles gives one a certain masochistic pleasure.

I'll tell you what.

I'll bet you a fiver that if you took me home with you tonight,

put me on your pillow, when we woke up in the morning,

I'd have turned back into a frog.

Look, here's five pounds.

Take it. Take it now.

Next time I need a tooth fairy, I'll send for you.

Goodbye, boys.

Wouldn't you agree, Bodie?

Oh, he's way out of his depth.

Still watching his struggles gives me a certain masochistic pleasure.

How do you fancy my chances with a queen of cybernetics, then?

It's the first time I've ever seen a piece of cheese try to seduce a mouse.

What happened to your lofty ambitions in that direction, then?

I'm a fat, waiting cat and I like my mice well fed.

Seventy-seven on three.

Alpha, one-nine.

Ah, Mr Cowley.

Ah, Dr Ross. Is that Bodie's file?

Yes. As you can see, it confirms my earlier report last month.

A 10% decline in mental faculties in so short a time.

Well, you see, there is a possibility that the tests

my predecessor made were consistently inflated.

But my very first result also tallied with her previous ones.

And, of course, Doyle's quotient is unchanged, as we expected.

Are there any precedents in your experience, Dr. Ross, to this kind of thing?

No, I am running a check on other institutions and data banks just to make sure,

but that information will take some time to come through.

There is one factor in this last test which may be significant.

You see, the decline in performance was markedly

reduced as the answer time was restricted.

You can see there, he scores on ten-second intervals, six, four, two.

The less time he has to think, the better he does.

Well, that's one way of putting it.

What would be another?

The more he thinks, the worse he does.

That sounds different, somehow.

Facts are facts. Do you call a glass of water half empty or half full?

If it was a small glass and it had malt whiskey in

it, I'd say it was half empty. Thank you, Dr Ross.

Having a drink in a pub.

What pub is that? The Chequered Flag.

Anything else?

No.

And I couldn't see him fighting Miss Boyle either. What do you mean?

He must have had a heavy training session. He looks knackered.

Thank you, 7-7. You can sign off now. Alpha out.

77 to base. Close down. 1900 hours.

Precisely.

Yeah, come on.

Hello.

I was just going out. That's all right. I want a drink. Where did you get this lot?

I borrowed it from Bodie. First time for everything, you know.

Is this a social quarter?

I'm surprised you've got any energy left for socialising

during the current training schedule.

Oh, you know what they say, don't you?

All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. Right.

Doyle, I'm disappointed with you.

Your results have been, let's say, unsatisfactory.

Unsatisfactory? You seem to have lost your edge.

I seem to have lost my edge?

Yes.

And nobody else has lost his edge except me.

All right, you got me.

It's very sneaky.

What do you think's the matter with Bodie?

Nothing's the matter with Bodie. Nothing?

Look, Jack's running us pretty hard, you know.

Some of his simulations make the real thing look soft. You're hanging in there.

Yeah, well, Bodie did all this stuff before he joined CI5. I didn't.

Maybe he finds repetition boring.

No matter how he finds it, he's not coming up to scratch.

You'll get over it.

Over what?

Whatever it is.

Whatever what is.

I don't know.

Are you covering up for him? Covering what, precisely? Nothing. Then what?

Covering up in general.

What are you trying to tell me?

Are you trying to tell me that Bodie's over the hill or something?

You've got a grade seven assignment tomorrow morning, just supposing,

and you've got a choice of three men for your section.

Your pool is Drake, Bodie, Charlton, Fields, Taggart. Which three do you take?

Doyle, which three?

Charlton.

Taggart.

And fields, but that's just tomorrow morning, not... Next week, month, year.

I'll bear it in mind.

Miss Black, Jennifer Black.

Yes.

George Cowley, CI5.

How do you do?

I believe I know your stepfather, Colonel Barrett, MP.

Why, yes.

This is a wee bit abrupt,

but perhaps you'd give me the pleasure of having lunch with me.

I'm afraid I'm already meeting someone.

Yes, Susan Radcliffe.

I've taken the extreme liberty of cancelling her on your behalf.

Yes.

Cancelling?

You can telephone her from the restaurant.

I'd like to talk to you about a certain Mr Bode.

Mr Cowley, although I've known Bodie for some time,

I'm afraid I don't know him quite as well as you think.

And there are no personal difficulties between you?

Good Lord, no.

You'll forgive me if this seems indelicate,

but perhaps you might be aware if he has any women problems.

Just between you and me.

I should say Bodhi doesn't have women problems.

It's us women that have Bodhi problems.

Now that we've emancipated ourselves,

there's lots of other things for us to worry about.

How much have you seen of him in the last few months?

Fair amount.

More than usual?

Possibly.

Have you noticed any change in his behaviour?

Mr Cowley, is all this really necessary?

Absolutely.

Aren't you being overprotective?

Miss Black, in time, money and equipment,

it takes four times as long and costs twice as much

to train one CI-5 man as one airline pilot.

There are, however, much greater numbers of fully qualified

pilots throughout the world than jobs available to them.

I, on the other hand, am unable to fill the vacancies I already have with

the cream of the armed forces and the entire country to choose from.

It's easier to replace a trapeze artist in a high wire act than any one of my men.

You've convinced me.

But I'm sorry, there's nothing else I can tell you about Bodhi.

Think about it.

Something may come to mind.

All right.

And meanwhile, if and when you do see him, keep an eye open.

Spy on him.

Oh, a slight exaggeration.

It's for his own good.

I can't help feeling all this is none of my business.

You know, we don't have a bad life here.

This is still one of the most elegant and civilized places on Earth.

I think we all have a vested interest in this continuity,

even though not all of us need get our hands dirty.

Ready, buddy? Yep. In your own time.

If you were a cat, Bodhi, you'd have five lives left.

Oh, dead again, sunshine.

Consider a little child, three years old.

It takes a bucket, fills it with sand, pats it down, turns it over,

carefully lifts the bucket.

And it has a sandcastle.

And suddenly, it took the spade and destroyed the sandcastle.

If we could duplicate the quality of that action of destruction

in every motion and every non-motion of our lives,

then we would be living with minds as pure and as free.

As a three-year-old child, how is it that a child could act with purpose,

and yet it has no time in which to conceive of a purpose?

The motive and the motion are one and the same unity.

What the child can do but has never learned to do, you must learn to do.

Whatever it is you have to do, you must find a way to do it.

Look, I know it's close to your gym, but do we have to come here afterwards?

There's hundreds of other places.

There are good lads here, salt and deer.

Six pints of lager and a patty of crisps, please, love.

Six pints of lager and a patty of crisps, please. Oh, come on. Look,

six pints of lager and a patty of crisps.

It is interesting how you in the West,

who were the first to make a distinction between the soul and the body,

should have had so much trouble and disagreement about where to locate it.

Some place it In the blood.

Some in the liver.

Others put it in the heart, the head.

As they began to understand the machinery of the body,

examining them under microscopes, they found To their surprise,

the soul is nowhere to be found.

I'm afraid I still don't quite understand.

You say there's something wrong with Bodhi's soul.

Incorrect.

If there is such a thing as a soul, then there

can be, by definition, nothing wrong with it.

A soul is a soul.

It is perfect.

But when the soul which acts through the body is now satisfied by the body's action,

then the body, not the soul, becomes sick.

Then where is he sick?

Here.

Is that bad?

It is the worst.

Hey, John.

Look, it was an accident. Let me buy you a drink.

No, no, no, no way.

Please let me buy you a drink.

No, I'll get these.

No offense, John.

Hey, darling, another two for this lad, whatever he's drinking.

I fumbled it!

It was a special case situation.

It's always a special case situation. You should have made an adjustment.

Oh, yeah. Before my chute opens, all in free fall! Before you hit the ground.

OK, 37.

Sneaky.

Brilliant.

Now, that's what I call poetry.

Yeah, yeah, I was very moved.

Yeah, I saw that. Yeah, special case for five.

Doyle!

Instruction.

From each line, choose the letter that does not belong.

Number one.

Number two.

Number three.

Number four.

Number five.

Interesting, Birdie. You didn't start too well,

but on the last pattern recognition series, you were 100%. Was I?

I've always been a good finisher.

Yeah, as far as finishing goes, he's the end.

Herbie, your excellent score is such a deviation from your norm that

I'm afraid I shall have to exclude it from your overall result.

That's not fair.

Something tells me you had access to the answers on that question.

Yeah, he started cribbing when he was in his cot.

Have you a better explanation of this sudden mastery?

No.

Oh, I've been doing a lot of practice down at

the arcade lately on the Star Wars machine.

Don't you think you're perhaps a little old for that kind of thing?

Well, the first bandit I ever tackled, Doctor, was one-armed, you know.

Got the jackpot. Yeah, 60,000 old sixpences. Really heavy, you know.

First in the tears. Tears. Wouldn't give me

three bananas. Yeah, he was 25 at the time.

Fine.

Everyone happy with 4-5? No. 3-7. Bodie.

Jack?

Fantastic. The boy's really come on.

You can forget everything I ever said about him being over the hill.

Splendid shape, too.

You're pleased with his physical condition, Dr. Headley? Yes.

Wrist pulse 42, lung capacity 5.5 liters.

We could enter him for the derby and wager our pensions.

Dr. Ross?

Well, I was clearly going to be the voice of dissent on this one.

In my professional opinion,

3.7 should be removed from standby classification

pending an in-depth examination. Rubbish.

Dr. Ross, with respect, we've all read your reports,

and I'm sure that for whatever it is they measure,

the measurements are extremely accurate.

The question is, are they relevant?

During the last ten weeks,

tests and observations have indicated unequivocally

that his intellectual capacity is at all levels,

perceptive, logical, intuitive, long and short-term recall.

All of them are inconsistent in relation to each other and erratic in themselves.

Now, I've made a comparison of his voice patterns during the same period.

His voice patterns?

And added together, they show that he's not in a healthy state of mind.

Dr. Ross, don't you yourself point out that his

most recent results are more than impressive?

Well, that was exactly my phrase, more than. The improvement was too marked.

I mean, are we quite sure we're talking about the same person? I mean,

haven't you even noticed anything odd about his general behavior?

What's wrong with his behavior?

Well, half the time he carries on like a child.

Dr. Ross, these men are trained to kill and be killed.

Every day they're called on to face death.

Not bangs and smoke, death.

So that ordinary citizens can go about their lives without fear or apprehension.

It's natural for boys like Bodie to be flippin' about injury and death.

Thank you, Jack, but it's a matter of degree. I mean,

take the incident with the water pistol.

Oh, for God's sake.

It was not healthy.

Dr Ross, these boys don't exactly have a healthy occupation.

Can't they just have a little bit of simple fun now and again?

Oh, as long as their mental capacities are unimpaired,

they can have as much simple, hairy, masculine fun as they like.

Or maybe it was a turning back there. I thought you said you'd been here before.

Well, if I said so, I must have been, mustn't I?

Why should we keep following him?

Petros.

41-425-16. Background biography. Operative CI-5. 0298-B11.

Classified subject, 37-Body.

Catross, shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

Thou art more lovely and more... You are clear, reoperate.

Temperate.

Biography, operative C, I stroke 5, subject 3-7, Bodhi.

Thou art more lovely and more temperate.

Where did you meet him?

We work together.

What sort of work?

Secretaries.

Go on.

It's true, isn't it?

What sort of secretaries?

We work for a lady novelist.

Oh, yeah?

Yeah.

She dictates a chapter each day.

Both at the same time?

Yeah, well, no, he does one day, I do the next.

While he's typing up, I'm taking down, and vice

versa. What sort of books? Bondage and romance.

How old is she?

She's nine.

She's the wife of a vicar.

I don't believe you.

Ah, yes, miles out of his depth. Still,

watching his struggles gives one a certain masochistic pleasure.

Now, that correlates with those readings on the graph there.

Now, to take one of the more recent examples...

Oh, the first band that I ever tackled, Doctor, only had one arm. Yeah,

he scored the jackpot. Yeah, $60,000 six months. That's really happy.

First in the tier. Tiers.

Wouldn't give me three bananas. You were shot in 25.

Leaving aside the humour, the factors are these frequencies,

which are areas of pitch and harmonic which are almost

never in the conscious control of the speaker.

But what does it all prove?

All the observations taken together during the last

few months make a classic pattern of reoccurring

elation and depression caused by some trauma which

we can locate to within a period of weeks.

That's still waters run deep.

What is this?

Don't be snotty, son. Some of these cowboys are no mangoes, you know.

Oh, yeah?

Doyle? What are you doing?

Yeah, second race.

Boldy, we may never know, even if he did have some disturbing experience.

Besides, don't his latest achievements on physical as well

as on your side confirm that he's back on an even keel, so to speak?

On the contrary. I should say everything indicates he's approaching a cusp.

A cusp?

I've been applying the mathematics of catastrophe theory to this data.

The cusp is where the subject is transformed instantaneously, violently,

if you like, from one state of being to another, in some way its opposite. I see.

You aren't taking me seriously.

Perhaps if you could explain to me in layman's terms.

Very well.

In my view, and I've taken full consideration of

his combat training details from Jack Crane,

in my view, Bodhi is suffering from a death wish. Bodhi!

Right, your moment of truth, son.

Can you ride or can you ride?

The risks he's been taking in training correlate precisely with the reckless,

flamboyant qualities that are revealed in my own empirical findings.

And now I'm afraid, Kate, I can't possibly take you seriously.

Just make it go faster. You twist the grip, Rich.

Is this the race now?

No, it's just practice. Just get the feel.

Why, who's he? Fancies himself as the local champion, reckons to win every time.

There's one number of each hostess on every airline there ever was.

Hey, you won!

Ridden like a champ, son, ridden like a champ. What the hell was all that about?

Billy's dead! Doyle's king! You were fantastic.

Listen, mate, just ride your own races in future, all right?

What's the matter? You rode brilliantly.

Yeah, that little lot rode to block me out. It's very dangerous.

Oh, you're a mother. Oh, is that the champagne for the winners?

I don't think your lads really deserve this, you know, but I think I'll be generous.

Yes, let's have a little drink for the losers, eh?

Let's enjoy it.

He's really annoying them.

Yeah, I think he knows them from somewhere.

Do you think he might get into a fight?

No, no chance.

Why can't he be sure?

If he got into a punch-up, he'd lose his job.

As a secretary?

He'd never take another letter in his life.

So let me show you one last thing.

Data find 00298 stroke B, 11 classified. Call

back 370C25, repeat and print out. Wait.

Look, we're leaving.

Well, let's go. What's happening?

Widowmaker. He's challenging King Billy to the Widowmaker.

What are these?

These are selective files of a total survey of every

man who served in Bode's Special Service Squad

in the Overseas Division before he joined CI5. Trevor.

I remember him. He was a good soldier.

Dead.

Yes, accident on a building site, trying to save someone from a falling crane.

Philpott.

Car crash. Dead.

I'm well aware that some of these men are no longer alive, Dr. Ross,

but I think the macabre element is coming from you.

Last man up's chicken.

All right.

You're on.

None of these men are any longer alive, Mr Cowley,

and none on that list were killed in action.

We should do it.

Right. This is not for you, you know. Yeah, I know. It's for the bike.

Right.

You're gonna need a lot of speed for that. Oh, yeah? Yeah.

Too much, and you know what? What? You'll loop the loop. You drew this up?

Today.

I also made a comparison with post-demop histories

of all comparable service regiments, which you can see there.

The proportion of violent deaths to ex-members of Bode's regiment

is not just greater than any other one in the army, it's ten times greater.

They were recruited for exceptionally hazardous missions.

They're dying like flies.

They take risky jobs, deep-sea divers, quarrying, security guards.

In quite safe employment also. I mean, the most recent one was only two months ago.

In fact, he was in Bode's platoon.

You wreck my bike, I'll burn your rubber duck.

Come on.

Well, aren't we gonna stay and watch him, cheer him on?

You're gonna watch these clowns, not me.

Is it really dangerous, what they're going to do?

Depends who's riding the bikes.

Is it dangerous?

Yeah, it's dangerous.

They could hurt themselves.

They could kill themselves. The C stalk M, what does that mean?

My abbreviation.

The manner of death. C is coroner. That's coroner's verdict. M-A is misadventure.

M is manslaughter.

Till death do us join.

What's that?

The motto of special service.

A better example.

So don't you think now that we should at least reconsider

Bode's suitability for Grade 7 call-out?

I think we've got to move faster than that. Get more details in this, can you?

I don't think it's that urgent.

Maybe not, but we can't be too sure.

Who goes first?

Two goes each.

Yeah.

I'll go first.

I know you from somewhere, don't I?

Never mind, Billy. You're doing it next time. Show him next time, Billy boy.

What do you think, pal?

You have one more go after me.

Cowley, CI5. Ah, he's waiting for you. Thank you.

George Cowley.

How do you do? Dr Ross.

This is the...

Digest of the Williams file.

Yes. Thanks, Dave.

And that is part of the rest of it.

Inspector, you implied on the telephone that the case was closed.

Of course it isn't closed. It was unsolved. There were no leads, no suspects.

It was a bank holiday weekend, one of those bike meets.

5,000 people from all over the country,

half of whom had and still have no fixed address. They were all suspects.

What kind of list would you like? A mailing list of the motorcycle world?

He was involved in a fight, you said.

The post-mortem showed bruising of the knuckles and other parts

of the body consistent with blows delivered as well as received.

But Williams was trained in hand-to-hand combat. So we believe.

Therefore it may have been someone with similar skills.

Maybe. Or more than one. There were a lot of gangs that weekend. Chapters,

as I believe they termed themselves.

Surely they could have been followed up. They could and were, as far as possible.

The other counties cooperated, but they have their crime problems too, you know.

And that was that.

Williams had a history of violence himself. In the service of his country.

And before that. But not since he was discharged.

Not on the form books, maybe.

What about this witness, the one who wouldn't

testify? The girlfriend. Why did she refuse?

Shock, fear of retribution. You didn't try to persuade her?

Even if she had spoken up, she would never have survived in court.

Defense would have had a field day.

And now she's vanished.

Do you have a photograph of her?

May I have this? By all means.

Thank you, Inspector.

Hey.

Sure you go on a day trip, or is this gonna be a long weekend?

I quite like it out here, you know. I think I'll stick around for a bit.

You're trying to aggravate those guys. You're doing a great job.

A little help from my friends, eh?

No, no, no.

Any trouble you get into, mate, you're on your own.

Trouble? Who wants trouble?

Don't worry. Get on.

We got to do something about them, Billy boy.

Where's Bodie? Who cares? You were meant to keep an eye on him.

Yes, before I found out what he was up to, my eyes got tired. What is he up to?

Trust between an ego trip and a death wish, you ask me. What do you mean?

Don't ask me. I'm staying right out of it.

He's gone completely barmy.

He's up there trying to pick a fight with some hell's angels. What?

Stupid, isn't it? Those angels killed one of the men from Bodie's old platoon.

He'll kill him. It'll be the end of CI5 if he does.

Do you know where they've gone? Must be up there somewhere.

Was this girl around?

Yes, she was. I saw her.

She was the one who was hanging around looking at Bodie.

I thought they knew each other.

She was William's fiancée.

There's too many of them.

It's gonna be okay.

Hey, John.

She's been talking to you, hasn't she?

Well, she should never have opened her mouth!

Take him, Jim.

It makes sense.

Bodie.

So help me, Bodie, if you finish that necklock, I'll shoot you dead.

Are these the ones who killed Keith Williams?

Yes.

Will you stand up in court and say that?

Say it!

Yes.

I will.

Sir? Yeah? Mind if I ask a question? A lot.

If I'd have killed him, would you have pulled the trigger?

What do you think?

What do you reckon?

I reckon you might have done.

¶¶