Original subtitles

Chaos, people.

Total chaos.

Look, I'm not gonna sugarcoat this.

We've got big trouble right here in New York City.

What kind of trouble?

A book is about to be published.

An expose about spies pointing fingers, telling secrets, naming names.

The ramifications are frightening.

Do we know who wrote it?

Yes, we do.

Anthony Steed.

MI6, British intelligence.

I know Steed. More importantly, Steed knows you.

And you, Mrs. Smith. Indeed, with your past exploits,

you probably each rate your own chapter. If this book is published,

the lives of every spy and their families will be threatened.

So, what's Steed's motive? We may never know.

Apparently, the manuscript was smuggled out of his Baghdad

jail cell just before he faced the firing squad.

If this had a property, we won't be the only ones trying to get our hands on it.

Indeed, the competition has already begun.

Intelligence reports show that North Korean...

Ree Park Chung is already on our shores.

And where's the manuscript now?

Yeager Books, Midtown Manhattan.

We need to see that this manuscript never hits the presses.

For the safety of the world, as well as your own.

This is mine.

Yours? Yeah.

Special issue.

What's so special about it?

It's a bomb.

A bomb? Like a gun bomb?

Exactly like a gun bomb. Not bang bang, but boom.

You don't approve?

No, no. I think it's nice.

Nice? Yeah, I like that.

Think we'll ever get to use it?

You never know, you know?

This, uh...

What manuscript we're looking for.

It could be rather revealing.

Secret pasts and identities. If it fell into the wrong hands.

Someone would get the upper hand.

Leaving someone else in the dark.

Upsetting the balance of things.

Making us vulnerable.

You're not thinking about trying to get to

that manuscript before me to read about me.

Please.

That never crossed my mind. You?

No, no, we're a team.

Right?

Right. We're in this together.

Right.

Right.

Still, it could make for interesting reading.

I'm Mrs. Smith, but that's not my real name either. You see, we're spies.

But let's face it, this name thing, couldn't it get a little confusing?

People might think we're married.

That's okay.

As long as you don't.

Your name is Mr. Dauphin?

It's pronounced Dauphin. Well, it's Nostad. He just likes to tease me.

As in a young French king?

Yes.

See, I wanted to give this mission a little oomph.

That's the nom de guerre, the Nostad. Hey, would you notice by the way?

Pierce knows where?

It's right here.

You mean to say he actually chose that?

I mean, isn't the point not to draw attention to yourself?

Well, yeah, in theory. I just thought that since I'm playing your sidekick,

you don't like it, do you?

I think it looks great.

You really do, don't you?

Great, okay.

Then let's go spy on Yeager Books.

Mr. Smith, you are in here.

And Mr. Smith, you will be in there.

Now, I've laid out all the latest bugging equipment.

You've got your JX-grade voice-activated two-way earphones,

your level-four wiretappers, your Bosch thermal-reading telephoto lens,

plus a few of my special pens.

This door's jammed. Anybody notice this door's jammed?

So, the old Enfield end pen, eh? 22 caliber.

S.O.E., circa 1940.

Uh, no, that would be a hotel pen, see?

It says Thorson Arms.

Oh.

I was referring to this.

The toker homing device.

Looks like a paper mate. It writes like a paper mate,

but you turn the top a counterclockwise like so...

And you can tail anyone anywhere.

Radius, five miles.

Does it go beep-beep?

Oh, it definitely goes beep-beep.

Super chess whiz. Rigged it myself. Anybody notice this door's jammed?

And that building over there, I take it, is... Jaeger Bucks.

Ground zero.

So, where does a guy get a uniform like that anyway?

Okay, seventh floor, phone extensions.

Let's try 2602.

Red now.

Scanning east.

Got him. Okay, mark it, and let's move on to seventh floor, 2608.

Yellow.

No, I need a science.

Now.

Moving on. Hold it, sports fans. I'm detecting

new movement. Third floor, center office.

Female on the telephone.

Catch it on part O. Let's try extension. 2711 for 50. What is Forrest's dream?

I mean it. The manuscript will be in our hands in 48 hours.

Female voice is a match. Repeat.

The voice matches the female I'm seeing.

Look, Mr. Kodak, no one else has got anything like the Steed piece.

Hear that? She said Steed.

Bingo. Maybe I'll uncork your seedy little secrets after all.

Then again, maybe they'll be yours. Exactly.

We don't want double their cuffs.

You got a visual on the mail, boys? Sounds like a grand coupon to me.

Let's try C-Suite's executive.

Oh, yeah. Got motion, Mrs. Smith.

Corner office? On it with my thermals.

Got him about six feet. Pacing Paul Stewart's suit. Eyes blinking.

Oops, there goes his blinds.

I got a good fix on him now.

My guess, type A, power money. This guy's definitely a player.

Ellis Kodak, CEO.

Yeager Boots.

It's on my way.

Where are we on my landscaping concept?

Fresh angles?

I have hit up 20 writers, as it is.

You can't draw blood from... Big, big, big, big.

You got anyone named Megan that Yeager prospectus?

We'll talk about it later.

Lunch.

Leobold Club, 1 o'clock.

I'll be the sensitive writer, and you can be my pushy agent.

The idea of the enclosed garden stems entirely from

the notion that a man's home is his castle.

Nathan, chill, would you? I got customers here. There's buyers here.

Beth, I can't have you as my literary agent if you don't understand my work.

Hey, chick, I understand. Comprende?

Harry Homeowner is about to fork over major cash

to wall in his front yard much the same way... Excuse me.

I couldn't help overhearing. Are you a landscape architect? What's it to you?

I'm a professor.

Oh, I'm sorry. I'm Meg Andrews, one of the editors with Jaeger Books.

You are?

Beth Chase, Evans Literary Group. My client, Nathan Givens. Evans Group.

I deal with them quite often.

It's funny we've never met.

I only hung my shingle there recently.

So I take it, Meg, you are a landscape enthusiast? Nathan,

I believe this is my turf.

So, I take it, Meg, you're a landscape enthusiast?

Well, my company is trying to develop a fresh

concept book in that arena, yes. I see.

Nathan's presently fielding several offers. Thank you for your interest. Miss Chase.

I'm sure you'll find that Jaeger Books often matches, if not exceeds, other offers.

Now, why don't you pitch us your idea?

Say, my office, tomorrow morning, 10 o'clock?

Okay.

Tomorrow it is?

Great.

Okay, I've got visual contact.

The subject is leaving the restaurant, heading

east on, let's see, 52nd towards Sexton.

She's passing the Evans Literary Agency?

Hold it. Hold it.

She's stopping.

She's turning.

She's looking up at the Evans building. Uh-oh, folks. We got a problem.

You have this covered, don't you? You don't have this covered?

Excuse me, do you have an agent here by the name of Beth Chase? Beth Chase.

Meg?

Meg Andrews? What a coincidence. I just walked in a second ago.

Why? Why are you here?

Gloves. I left my gloves.

Summer gloves?

Christmas.

I lost them at the Christmas party.

Miss Chase, Phyllis Graham at Putnam, line one.

Thank you.

Meg, would you mind if I took that? No, no, no, no, no,

because I've got to get going, and I remembered that I left my gloves at my office.

I'll see you tomorrow.

And you are, ma'am, excuse me, ma'am. Well, I'm in.

Don't you mean we're in?

Sure, of course, we're in.

Okay, again, the Meg meeting.

Okay, okay. I do chit-chat, chit-chat, then

you do landscape theory, then I get angry.

Then I storm out of the room,

then you make excuses while I snoop around Jaeger

books for the missing Steed manuscripts.

Simple, yes? Simple, yes. Except one thing.

One thing? Your socks and sandals.

And your suggestion is...

Two tie shoes, scuffed, mismatched socks, the left fading slightly to gray,

and one shoelace smelling vaguely of dog.

I totally disagree.

Fine.

Fine.

Mr. Dauphin. Give me your shoes and give me your socks.

He was. He was.

Next father, Steed?

Notice the confluence of shapes playing against the shade.

The Japanese are absolutely gaga over enclosed gardens.

Privacy being of the utmost importance.

Meg. Meg.

My new manuscript. Where?

Mr. Kodak, I'm in the middle of a meeting. The

market is heating up. Yeager is overdue.

I know you're still in negotiation, but I want that book, damn it. 24 hours.

Hi.

That was Kodak.

Excuse me, Meg. Your little girl's room is down the hall to the right?

Maybe I should go with you.

No, you stay. Pitch. Make money.

But what if I have to go?

We do have more than one restroom.

I'm sorry. Excuse me.

Thank you.

Wouldn't be the first agent who got lost, metaphorically speaking.

Do you think... Would you mind if we go look for her?

Um...

Here's where we keep most of our manuscripts.

Oh, no. No, no. This won't do at all.

I can't have my writing exposed like this. I've got new grass hybrids, new mulches.

Anyone could just walk right in and steal them.

Okay, actually, do you remember my office computer?

Office computer?

The Borden MK5. We encrypt most of our more sensitive works and bestsellers on it.

Trust me, it would take an international jewel

thief to download that thing. You feel safer?

Much. Okay.

I was looking for the ladies' room.

Copy, repairman.

I need a donor.

Oh, there you are.

Sorry, I got lost. You should put up roadmaps in this

joint. What a beautiful bag. Oh, it's a gift.

Ferragamo. I take it everywhere.

Beth, Meg was just suggesting that we pitch my book concept tonight.

Really? Yeah, why?

Well, the one who screamed in my office, Ellis Kodak,

he's the one that gives the final okay.

He's throwing a book launching tonight downstairs,

so I thought... Do I have to wear heels?

Well, it is black tie, yes. The entire New York literary elite will be there.

We'd have to hone our pitch a bit.

You think you can knock him dead? Oh, Meg, honey, that's what we do best.

Snidely Whiplash?

The Joker?

We rehearsed a plan, then you go into business for yourself.

The point is, the guy had a gun in my pack, okay?

Since when's a copy repairman strapped in a .45?

The only thing a dame understands is a slap in the face, or a slug from a .45.

Mr. Dauphin, more on the forehead, a little lighter on the eyes.

So, this copier guy, did you find me a match yet? That's him.

Mr. Big is the copier guy? No, on the screen, that's him.

Francois Kruger, codename Sebastian, former member of the Baader-Meinhof gang, 43,

contract killer for Saddam Hussein. Oh, nice fella. God,

if the Iraqis ever got the names of the Western agents. Well,

my guess is he'll move when we do, tonight.

So, be careful.

Don't die. And let's find this manuscript before that froggy bastard Sebastian does.

Well, looks like we've got some downtime before the big soiree.

Anyone for a frappuccino? No, it's back to the hotel for me. Nap time.

Sure, cab.

No, that's okay. I have some research to do.

Research?

Say, you wouldn't be trying to get that manuscript ahead of me, would you?

Come on, you still on that kick?

I window shop, do you?

I stayed in, caught a few Zs.

You know, for a spy packing C4, a Beretta, lockpicks, botulized bubblegum,

and a buoy knife, you look especially radiant tonight.

It's strange. I feel like a stiff slinky with a bad case of gas.

Nathan, Beth. Hi. Hi.

How are you? Glad you could make it. Mr. Kodak, come on.

This is Nathan Gibbons. Oh. Beth Chase, his agent.

Hello, ma'am.

Hello.

Oh, the infamous Mr. Gibbons.

Dan Durfee, Infra-Burundi. War correspondent. And you?

Uh, garden enclosures. Oh, there's Pulitzer material if ever I heard of it.

My near-fatal face-off with a vicious peat moss.

Miss Chase, Mr. Kim, shall we have a little pow-wow?

Tell me, why do you think your book will smoke the bookstores?

I'm sorry. Why Joe Schmo will buy the freaking thing?

I see. Well, they hate their lawns.

They hate their lawns.

That's right, they hate their lawns. See,

Americans spend some $600 a year on fertilizers, mowing.

I'm sure.

But are you saying that they will spend even more tearing up the same lawn?

For an enclosed garden? Definitely.

Yes, I see that as a coming trend, yes.

You don't believe me, do you?

Mr. Kodak, I think what Nathan means... This is my life's work.

If I say they hate their lawns, then damn it, they hate their lawns.

Beth, let's go.

Am I tone too harsh? I sort of liked your tone. I sort of like my tone, too.

I'm sorry about the date. Hey, have you tried the Clam Casino?

That's a great metaphor for this. Jump, eh?

A moneyed gambling den.

Got it?

Casino.

You got that? Maybe. The code word is either clams or casino.

Uh, wait just a minute.

I... I have a wonderful idea.

A little book.

But what if we let them keep the sprinkles?

If we keep the Asian motif, which you like so much, you see?

Sprinkles.

Francois Kruger. Sebastian.

My goodness, yours will be like the sixth autograph I've got tonight. Hey,

do you know Tim Mark? He's the author of that expose

on the terrorist connection to the drug cartels. Nice beard, by the way.

Uh-oh, Mr. Smith, red alert. Meg Andrews is heading for the elevator.

Here come those beautiful little Japanese dripping things.

My God. Have you noticed your Dracaena marginata?

It's completely parched. I'm sorry, I won't tolerate flamboyance. Not here,

not anywhere. It needs water.

You got a minute?

I figured there weren't just three shooters at Dallas. Okay, you've got Oswald,

the aggressive Null guy, and the British guy, but six?

Aren't you supposed to be serving?

Slender, erect, smooth, gray-stemmed.

Code word, casino. Excuse me, Nathan.

Have you noticed that the elevator is stopping on every floor? A riddle now?

Blank, blank, cake?

Outdoors, out of wind.

I'm dying here, guys. Hello, anybody? Give me a blank blanket.

When old leaves fall. Kiss me, damn it!

I love my plants.

I need that disc.

Wait, what was that? I didn't hear anything.

So what's up?

Oh, nothing, you know, just hanging out. Trying not to fall. Okay.

Looking for something?

I was just with Meg Andrews at the police station,

and I thought... You'd borrow my panties?

Oh.

Steam?

Pardon me?

The steam from the shower, it's moisturizing my face. That's why it's on.

Are you here to moisturize, too?

Well, no, actually, I... Would you mind telling me what you're doing in my room?

Looking for the manuscript.

I took the liberty of printing out...

A couple of chapters in here actually sound like you.

A little nuclear sabotage here, some double agent work there.

I especially like the part about slipping an

Isabella Rossellini type out of Romania.

That was you, wasn't it?

I've never been to Romania.

I see, so then the story about the agent who scrambles to hide his family,

that wouldn't be you either, would it?

I've helped many people in my life.

Hey, here's one that could be you.

Seems this woman was saved from a firing squad by a simple silver ID bracelet.

Where does it say that? Hold on.

These pages, the names are missing.

They're riddled with blanks.

Noticed that, did you?

Kind of makes the manuscript worthless.

Covert op, East Berlin, 1963, no names.

Look in the next chapter, Chechnya assassination, last December, no names.

1981, the CIA is springing them all from Lubyanka, again, no names.

Did you say Chechnya?

Don't tell me that you just said Chechnya. I just said Chechnya.

You know what this means?

If Steed was dead two years ago...

He couldn't have written about the Chechnyan assassination.

It just happened last December, so then Steve's still alive.

That's why all the blanks. Steve must be hiding somewhere.

Communicating through his daughter Meg.

Until, uh, not turning over the names, until what?

Deals arranged?

For what? His safety, money?

How about D, all of the above?

Got a plan?

No, you? No.

Kodak said he wanted the book within 24 hours.

Exactly. So if anyone's going to exchange anything, it's got to happen soon.

All we got to do is listen in on Kodak and Meg.

Zero in on any mention of money exchange, drop-off

times, locations, that sort of thing.

Great. You want to do it this time, or shall I?

I don't know. It's kind of serious.

I'll do it.

Yeah, room service. I'll have a carrot juice, please, and a watercress salad,

and my husband will have, I don't know, any old kind of junk food you got.

Oh, God.

Up all night. I am so stiff.

Hey. Hey.

In many parts of the world, I'm known as the neck guy.

Relax.

Oh, oh, oh, that is great, neck guy.

Oh, yeah.

That is so, so...

I think I just saw Moses. You were really nutted up.

Oh, yes.

Oh.

Oh, yes.

Hi.

I got your message about the blanks in the manuscript, and...

Looks like we're back at it again, huh?

Listen, I want to get some fresh air.

Wiretap-wise, you're all set up and passed in. You got any questions?

Oh, ye olde Colt 380 Mustang? Very cool. This one's sort of special.

You think we'll ever use that thing?

You never know.

You know?

Hello? Do you know who this is? Good. Is everything alright?

You should be safe in there.

I'll get word to your parents and tell them who you are.

You sure no signs of trouble?

Right.

I'm logging in Codex and make Andrew's speech patterns.

Switching to cross-channel sine wave monitoring now.

So the JX machine will crank on if Meg or Kodak get any phone calls?

Yep, autopilot. If they make any plans to meet Steed, we'll know.

All we gotta do now is sit back and munch a bunch of Snagwells.

Gracias.

Mr. Dauphin, I wanted to, uh...

I mean, well, when we first met, I sort of... My nose stud?

You want to apologize for having assumed I was a nerd?

Yes.

And so you figured it'd be better to suck up now in case you

ever find the need to abuse and exploit me in the future?

Yes, and also because...

I've come to like you a bit.

Hey, babe? No problemo.

Listen, Rigby over at Chase Manhattan just brought in a $2 million in cash.

It's in a black satchel under my desk, but remember,

if Steve doesn't give you the list of names...

Whoa, whoa, whoa, what if Sebastian is out there? Shouldn't you wait for Mr. Smith?

Um, I'll catch him on the way.

This is Smith.

We intercepted Kodak's phone call to Meg.

Two million bucks is gonna be delivered to Steed. She didn't catch you.

How long ago? 10, 15 minutes.

Ever find that ladies' room?

Hey, Dracula, you gonna slice that thing all day or gargle a few sections?

Spies never seem to have time to eat.

In movies, TV, never do we pull into a haggard ass of Bob's big boy.

Nothing.

Maybe they're watching their cholesterol.

That is why I eat orange.

That is why I eat an orange, brain trust.

In America, we use articles, e.g. a scum slug, an orange, the dimwit. Comprende?

You know what I think?

You're trying to make me slip up, that's what I think.

Is that right?

You're trying to bait me.

Sorry.

It's not juice grade. Juice grades get sweeter, juicier juice.

You want to intimidate a hostage? Next time,

use the ju- Do you think you're so smart?

You know what I think?

Is this a multiple choice question?

You're not so smart.

All right, that's enough.

I call your partner now.

I wonder if you'll exchange a manuscript disc for your worthless lives.

I know I wouldn't.

Yeah, but then again, look at the fruit you eat.

Having a real run of it, aren't you, Count?

And I warn you, don't try to dislodge at that height.

If the fall doesn't kill you, the point is

still things will. Au revoir, mademoiselle.

Bye-bye.

Warm, fuzzy kind of guy, huh? Why do you antagonize him like that? For sport.

Hey, Meg, listen, I know you're Anthony Steed's daughter.

I also know that you've been trying to publish his book.

How did you know all that?

It's filled with blanks, okay?

The question is, why would you even flirt with putting

out a book that could hurt so many people?

For the money. Sorry, no.

I worked with your father once.

Steed or anyone related to him would never trade on... Oh my God, Steed,

he's not in New York, is he?

You had no intention of trading that money for the list of names.

But why would you... Scan Yeager books out of two million bucks?

Simple.

So that Meg could ransom her father out of an Iraqi jail.

Steed is your father, isn't he?

Yes. Never mind that. What are you doing here?

This whole thing was a ruse, wasn't it, Meg?

There is no list of names. Never was.

My father smuggled letters to me from his Iraqi prison cell.

I culled them together with his diaries and invented a book to save his life.

And now you've successfully imperiled your own.

Sharp.

Real sharp.

I asked you a question. How did you find us? You bugged me?

Not kosher? No, it's not kosher. I don't need to

be rescued by you or by anyone. Okay, see ya.

Wait.

Hello? How you doing?

Sebastian.

Hmm.

He says you're both dead if I don't deliver the manuscript. What should I say?

Tell him you're busy eating dinner. Call back later.

Sebastian, listen, I'm right in the middle of a

nice pasta puttanesca right now. Listen, worm.

You will never find your friends, understand?

Unless I get that book.

What? What's he saying?

He wants to know if I fry the garlic with or without the olives.

Listen, Sebastian, or Francois, or whatever you call yourself,

what's with all this sadistic shtick?

Haven't you ever heard of the Marcus of Queensberry rules?

Frankly, it don't work for me.

Now you will. How you say? Direct me to the Steen manuscript.

It's not how you say, Francois, it's how do you say, okay?

My God, if you're gonna... Listen, you have had just about enough...

How do we stop this thing?

We planned all this, you know.

Oh, yeah. Went off just like clockwork.

Sorry, comrade.

I don't think so.

Now I'm gonna kill you with your own gun.

I wouldn't do that if I were you. But you're not me, are you?

How do you like the oranges?

But that is outrageous.

You mean he actually fired her?

Yes, even though you returned the $2 million. Yes, even after I told Mr.

Kodak that on Thursday, thanks to you and the FBI,

my father was successfully exchanged for Iraqi agent Sebastian.

Not that there was that much left alive to exchange.

Bartender, let me have a round of your finest whiskey for my friends here. Now,

this Kodak, what did he say to you?

I said, I'm going to publish that book. Blanks or no blanks.

Mr. Kodak, how very nice of you to meet with us.

You're not really a war correspondent, are you?

Woo!

Well, I agree, old boy.

It's not our normal modus operandi, but things

have a way of... Well, I've made my decision.

In the interest of national security,

Jaeger Books will not publish the state manuscript.

Not now, not ever. There. We have a deal?

And Meg Andrews?

By all rights, she should be killed.

But she is awfully clever.

I'll promote her.

Well, time is money.

Oh, your gardening concept. If you're still game, I am.

Well, uh, call my agent.

It's funny how little we've learned about each other in the last few days.

Hey, by now I thought the truth would be out.

It is beautiful, isn't it?

Yes.

Yes, it truly is.

Still, maybe it's better this way.

You know, not knowing.

This way?

Oh, yeah, that.

May I see what you mean?

Well, well then.

I mean, well then, here we are. Back to square one.

Yep.

8.30 Sunday night, Greta Skaki,

Albert Finney and Matthew Medin star in a story of love and betrayal.

The Browning Version, your premiere Sunday night at the movies, 8.30 Sunday.

Next up, The Late Show with David Letterman.