The Whistle Blower (1986) Movie Script
The only way we'll know when and at
what targets a nuclear button will be pressed
is by electronic espionage-
Thats what makes it so appalling
that Dodgson,
a self-confessed and convicted Soviet agent,
was able to hold a position of trust here
for ten years.
It must not happen again.
Each of you, not only section heads,
but each and every one of you,
has simply got to report oddities of behaviour
among your colleagues,
strange events or anything else
that strikes you as out of the ordinary.
Its not only your jobs that are at risk,
its the survival of the free world.
Did you spy
for the Russians for ten years?
Yes.
Did you watch kiddy-porn videos
with Stephen Kedge?
Yes.
Does the photograph that Ive just shown you
contain Allen Goodburn?
Yes.
Did you sometimes see him socially
with his wife Cynthia?
Get this thing off me!
Mr Dodgson,
youve already told me this machine
is no better than a fortune-teller at a fair.
I mean, if its junk, whats your problem?
Are you anti-Black or just anti-American?
A lot of people detest your country
and all it stands for.
In England, thats not yet a crime.
I think we have a problem.
Utah was painful to us, Dodgson. We dont
forgive you for making us look foolish
and for putting another wedge between us
and our good friends.
Youre here to answer yes or no
to our friends questions. Yes or no.
And get on with it.
I'm gonna have to start all over again.
Sit real still.
Keep your eyes on the board.
Your friend Kedge fell under a train.
Looks as though
theyve taken the bait.
As soon as were sure
theyve bitten on Goodburn, I'll let you know.
Take the pills that evening.
Check.
And mate.
Tickets, please.
- Thanks. Cheltenham next stop, sir.
- Thank you.
Any more tickets now, please?
The train on platform two
is the 12:10 from London Paddington -
This is Cheltenham Spa, Cheltenham Spa -
The train will be leaving in five minutes, 12:15,
for Gloucester, Stroud, Kemble,
and London Paddington -
- Dad?
- Bob. You shouldnt have bothered to come.
- Well, youve braved British Rail to get here.
- Ive got a present for you.
The bloke in the Russian book shop
said it was a fair translation.
Its beautiful. Thanks.
- Hows business?
- Struggling.
Yeah?
Over here. By the way, theres someone
coming I particularly want you to meet.
A girl, eh? Its about time.
- Two of them, actually.
- Two?
PV.
PV?
- Its to do with security. Positive vetting.
- Yeah, PV.
- PV? It sounds rude.
- Its all in your mind.
No, no, shes quite right. It is rude.
And I speak as one
whos being PV'd at the moment.
- Its routine.
- Known as the quinquennial review.
Yeah, we are PV'd by IOs, Tiffany.
An IO is not, as you may think,
an intelligence officer,
still less an intelligent officer,
he is an investigating officer.
If something dodgy happens, like someone
with the same name turns up at a peace rally,
then our case is referred to an HEOPVA,
who is, in his glory,
a Higher Executive Officer Positive Vetting...
- Youre drunk!
...Assessor. How dare you say I'm drunk?
Should you be talking like this?
I mean, the Official Secrets Act and all that.
No, no. Youre quite right, Dad.
We shouldnt. It is, after all, a method devised
to let people like Dodgson get away with it.
- Thats not fair. Dodgson was clever.
- This isnt the Soviet Union.
A timely reminder.
- Right.
- Oh, look. Isnt Tiger beautiful?
- Tiger?
- Beautiful?
You know that cat? Hes abnormal.
He gets himself right down there
and he cant get back up again.
Then he howls, and who do you think has to
get up at four in the morning to let him in?
Me.
Come on. Come here, you little monster.
Yes. Look at you.
I sometimes think
if I could assemble a cat-like ladder
then he could make his own way back.
Its nearly 30 feet.
Im going to phone for a taxi
to take me to the station.
- We ought to wash up lunch.
- OK.
- You, too, Mark.
- Bossy cow.
- Bob?
- Mm?
I told Allen.
- How did he take it?
- Terrible.
Bob, hold me.
Make it in about an hour, could you?
Fine. Thank you.
... second thoughts?
- No, of course not.
I just wish we didnt have to
hurt anyone else.
Bob.
- Do you fancy a walk?
- Um, yeah, sure.
And then again, no.
No, I... I want to have a word with you,
so lets go.
Oh...
Im so clumsy. Its bloody ridiculous.
You intend to chuck the job. Thats it, isnt it?
- Yeah.
- Why?
- Well, its a bit complicated.
- Yes, I thought it would be.
Dont be so aggressive, Dad.
Its not very helpful.
In an odd way,
this Dodgson business focused how I feel.
I wondered if you knew him
when I read about the trial.
There are 7,000 of us working at GCHQ.
Its an industry. Ordinary.
Accepted.
I didnt even know Dodgson by sight.
The net result is the business of informing on
one another has now become respectable.
All of us are encouraged to report anything
that strikes us odd about colleagues.
Can you imagine what its like
to be at the mercy of a secret report
from someone youre living with
or working with?
Is that whats happening, Bob?
Someone informed on you?
- Youre being asked to resign?
- No way.
Im not being judged. Its the other way round.
The security people
had egg all over their faces-
Ten years he got away with it-
And then there are the lies-
They start the very first day-
Nobody's what they seem-
Nothing is what it's made out to be-
And you never realise till later,
years later in my case,
that from the very first day,
the truth recedes.
- Dont forget, what they do is necessary.
- Thats a fatal argument, Dad.
Its common sense.
You need a posting or a holiday.
Take one, but dont throw away
six years of seniority.
- God, theres more to life...
- Listen to me.
When I came out after 12 years,
it was no joke making a living
and its taken me over 20 years since then
to find my way, and its still very dodgy.
Cleverer men than me go bankrupt every day.
Times are bad and getting worse.
Lets face it, youre not a computer man
or an engineer or a doctor.
Youre a linguist. Who needs them?
- Are we going to have an argument?
- I shouldnt be surprised.
- Tea?
- All right.
- Go ahead. Knock on the door.
- OK.
- Ta-da! Surprise.
- Oh!
- Ta-da! Happy birthday!
- Thats really kind.
We couldnt do the honours
with the cake without you.
Right. Look at that.
- Shall I blow them out?
- Mm-hm.
One, two, three.
- Dont forget to wish.
- No, I wont.
- Is everything all right?
- Yes.
Your room, Bob,
is even more of a tip than mine.
- Would you like us to tidy it?
- No. Not at any price.
I'd never find anything, would I? Hm?
- It may look a bit chaotic, but...
- It surely does.
- Basically, its very clean.
- And it is his room.
Im sorry, I didnt mean to...
Well, Im going to watch television
with Mark and Rose.
All right. Will that be OK?
Yeah. Here, look, um...
- Bribe them.
- Yes. See you later.
- Bye.
- Bye.
Sit down, Dad.
- Is it all right?
- Very nice.
Here we are. A cup of tea.
Thank you.
Listen, it seems to me
that underneath ordinary life...
God, its so hard to put this clearly.
Underneath the commonplace -
buses in the street, newspapers,
cricket scores, paying the bloody mortgage -
underneath all of that,
there is another, an entirely secret world.
Now, the people who run it,
thousands of them,
appear to live in the light, but they dont.
And I dont.
You see, every day, or nearly every day,
I go to this place to translate surprising,
sometimes terrifying,
and occasionally appalling things.
Look, you know how much
I love the Russian language.
And their literature.
Yes, I do.
Pushkin, for example, killed in a duel
provoked by his unfaithful wife.
Tolstoy, stinking rich and all that guilt.
Dostoevsky missing the firing squad,
gambling like a maniac.
Chekhov, Stanislavsky. You know?
You see, I have a... a world inside my head,
a perspective of Russian life to set against
interminable telephone conversations from...
party officials.
You listen to telephone conversations
with Russian party officials?
Yeah. Out of the Kremlin, even.
I don't care whether professional sceptics,
the hard-boiled boys who run the world,
talk casually of the Bolshoi Ballet
being a cultural weapon, which it is,
and feel nothing as they say it-
I feel something. It hurts me personally.
If the Bolshoi comes,
if I watch and listen to Romeo and Juliet,
I mean, the joy of it
is poisoned by the certainty
that the KGB man
is sitting in the bloody prompt corner.
Their secret world
has put out the light of the ordinary world.
All the more reason
to stick at what youre doing.
No.
I believe, with all my heart,
that our secret world
is on exactly the same tack as theirs.
Enough. Self-righteous little prick.
Our best advice is that hes not a serious risk.
But naturally, we'll keep him covered.
Bother, hes not back yet.
You go in, darling, and Ill put the car away.
God! God, Allen! No!
Its Dodgson, sir.
The duty officer didnt like the look of him.
He says theres hardly any pulse.
Call Hammersmith Hospital.
- Ambulance?
- No, car. Quick, we could lose the bugger.
- Fool!
- Its all right. Shh. It'll be all right.
Shh. Listen to me. L"II deal with the police.
You go and look after Tiffany.
Itll be all right. Go on.
Now, either Im mad,
or somebody killed Allen
and faked it to look like suicide.
- Why on earth should they do that?
- Well, he knew Dodgson, right?
Just suppose Allen
was mixed up in what he was doing.
Hm? The last thing security want
is another scandal.
You dont seriously think
theyd go to those lengths?
I dont know. I dont even know who to ask.
I thought you might have a bright idea.
Not off the top of my head. I mean...
- Let me think about it.
- Fancy a beer?
Thanks. Theres a panic on to calculate
the track of this new Russian spacemongery.
- Well, some other time, then.
- Sure.
Good morning, good morning.
You have slept like a hero.
The woman will make you
the bacon and eggs now.
Is it morning, Alex? It is Alex, isnt it?
Correct. Ah, you remember my name.
Yes, it is morning.
To tell you the truth, it is afternoon.
Theres something...
familiar about this place.
It was here that you met your controller
when he came over in "83.
- Thats right.
- Do you remember?
We smuggled you in
in the bottom of the school bus.
Russian territory in England.
That appeals to me.
It is amusing, yes?
But you must,
on no account, touch the curtains.
Outside, the British are like crazy men
trying to find you
before the press learn of your escape.
When they do, there will be
the most enormous outcry.
We do not believe that the British security
services know you came here before,
but we must assume they will have all our
properties under surveillance with cameras.
You must stay low.
This chap tried to recruit me.
I couldnt tell you before.
He used to be a tearaway -
ripping up telephone directories,
taking the tops off bottles with his teeth.
I cant imagine what made him think
I could get into all that. Anyway, he'll see you.
Ive got his address in the car.
- Morning. Is my guest here?
- Ah, Mr Greig. Ah, yes, Mr Jones.
Yes, hes just through here.
Frank!
Charlie Greig, as I live and breathe.
I couldnt believe it when you called.
- Whats your poison?
- No, no. This is my treat. Pinkers?
- What else, Commander?
- Same for me and make them large ones.
Lets sit down over there.
- This is a turn-up for the book.
- Its been a few years.
Mm-hm.
The only pilot who enjoyed the rocket takeoff
when the catapult failed.
We said we did,
but you meant it, you mad sod.
Well, we were younger in those days.
I remember you blowing your commission,
taking a swing at that chief petty officer
cos you thought he was a bully.
Well, he was, too. CPO Pratt.
Pratt by name and prat by nature.
I know, I know. All the same, I couldnt have
spent my life savings on that kind of gesture.
Well, I wasnt into promotion like you were.
HMS Hawke - white band round your cap.
Thank you.
No dipping your biscuits in your tea.
It was the only way a pilot
could crash the class barrier.
Yeah, well, as you said,
in those days we were younger.
Thank you.
Just when we thought we got civvy street
squared away, Kathy developed this lump.
It wasnt much to speak of.
Turned out to be cancer.
- Dear old boy.
- At least she went quickly.
There didnt seem to be
much point in going on,
especially as my son
wasnt interested in the business.
Thats right. Of course, you had a boy.
Yeah, Bob. Apple of his mothers eye.
Mine, too, but you wouldnt want
to share a cabin with him.
- What? Untidy?
- Shambolic.
Whats he doing now?
Hes a Russian-language specialist at GCHQ.
Bright boy, then.
A bit too bright for his own good. More brains
than sense, you know what I mean?
No, thats not quite fair, but I went down there
the other day for his birthday
and, number one, hes got himself mixed up
with a married woman with a kid.
On top of that,
hes talking about leaving the job.
Hes got it in his head that
what the Russians do in that line of country
is not a lot different from what we do.
- Student talk.
- Hes 28.
Well, its just the time
for pulling the old mans beard.
I was surprised. I mean, he shouted the odds
from time to time, we all did,
but he went for the quiet life
at the end of the day.
Hed run a mile rather than risk trouble.
- Not like you, then?
- No. Takes after his mother, thank God.
Well, thats nice.
What about you? Dont tell me none of those
Wrens managed to drag you to the altar?
You know what they say -
safety in numbers.
The last time I heard of you,
youd joined the cloak-and-dagger brigade.
Still at it, are you?
Retired. In so far as they ever let you retire.
Theyve set me up with a nice little sideline -
vetting firms to make sure theyre kosher,
which, not to beat about the bush,
is why Im here.
A little bird told me youve been supplying
some fair-sized outlets lately.
Satisfied customers, one and all.
Now, theres a government department -
no names, no pack drill -
on the brink of elbowing their quill pens
in favour of word processors.
Its not a contemptible contract, so, um...
always provided your beamish boy isnt
seriously intent on upsetting the apple cart...
Thank you.
...its yours.
Im sorry.
What?
This just feels all wrong.
Well, you wouldnt let me come to your place.
Would you, Bob?
If Im not under surveillance,
I bloody well should be.
- Its not funny.
- Im not laughing at you.
No?
Its just the thought of some SAS type
trying to recruit Mark.
Yes, its a pretty bizarre idea, isnt it?
- Rose, well...
- Yes, Rose.
I can just see her
laying someone out with her handbag.
Do you really have to go and see
that man Mark put you on to?
Yes, I do.
Its not just going to go away, you know.
- Hello, Mahroof.
- Hello, sir.
- Hello.
- Is it wise to smoke on top of that brandy?
- You think Ive been on the town, right?
- Dead right.
In fact, thanks to my service connections
and a willingness to risk liver and lungs,
we are in the running
for a government contract.
Thats fantastic, Frank.
Yes, and if we get it right this time,
theres plenty more.
- Any messages?
- The bank.
Oh, on the strength of this,
I can face even them.
And Bob called. Could you phone him?
Something about meeting him in Gloucester.
Gloucester?
Sorry to drag you all this way, Dad,
but I think Im close to something
that makes my original misgivings
about GCHQ seem like pleasant dreams.
To understand, youve got to remember what
the American secret world has done for years.
I don't just mean
in the way of secret ways and secret codes,
but in perjury, bribery, blackmail,
drug trafficking all over the world,
and, yeah, plain old-fashioned murder.
I mean, Watergate proved the extent these
people can work against their own people.
- That was the end of it.
- No. That just pushed it further underground.
We could never have
a Watergate in this country.
Our secret world is beyond the norm,
which brings me back to what I was saying-
GCHQ Cheltenham is hugely funded by,
and totally integrated with,
the Americans.
Now, you dont believe
we dont do anything they do, hm?
All right.
I dont know what you know
and I dont read what you read,
but I do know that no one in his right mind
risks a secure job these days.
You do have the right to give it up,
so for Gods sake leave it at that.
Resign and walk away.
It would be conniving of me to...
to do nothing, knowing what I know now.
- Dont you see?
- No, I dont. I bloody well dont.
Im sorry, I didnt want to get you going.
I just wanted you to know, thats all.
- Well...
- Yes?
- Mind how you go.
- And you.
Dad, you know
all my movie heroes were American?
Do you remember when we used to be
glued to the telly when I was a kid?
We used to watch them go to the moon and
walk on it. Christ, wasnt that marvelous?
Yeah, well, the worlds changed, thats all.
I still believe the man in the white hat always
wins in the end, and I intend to prove it.
You do, do you?
Yes, sirree.
Bye.
So...
now we see. Please stand up.
Its wonderful. I can hardly recognise myself.
This calls for a toast.
And see, I brought
the comrade colonel something else.
Now, isnt that something?
Alex.
- Thank you.
- No, no, please. Its for you to keep.
- To Russia.
- To Russia.
I wish the comrade colonel
a pleasant journey.
- Thank you for all your help.
- L"II see our friend safely off the premises.
Dont drink all the vodka before I get back.
Trust me.
Lets look before we leap.
All clear.
- You see, you cant fault our security.
- Safe journey.
- 0331 -
- May I speak to Sir Adrian Chapple, please?
Speaking-
Chteau Direct here.
Sorry for being so long in getting back to you.
It appears your order was detained in bond,
but Im assured it'll be released very shortly.
Thank you for letting me know.
This way, please, sir.
One of my better productions.
- They made a wonderful job of the furniture.
- They did indeed, Flecker. Well, well.
Incidentally, whats happening
to Dodgsons prison contact?
The one who passed him the pills and so on?
Hes having ten years off his sentence
and then were sending him
to Northern Ireland.
You do take away with one hand
what you give with the other.
Coming from you?
I dont think
you should find that displeasing.
Good God. Chapple?
We'll never hear the end of it if the Americans
find that out. Well done. Excellent.
He was a very good subject. It helped hed
been to the flat to see his controller before.
- Is it all on video?
- Of course.
- How good of you to come.
- How good of you to ask me down.
First thing first, you like this, I believe?
- Quite right.
- Water? Ice?
- Just as it comes.
- Spoken like a Scotsman.
- There we are.
- Your good health.
My dear fellow. Well, rather different
from the last time you were down here.
Very.
Its as well the Irish are besotted by racing.
Bomb here and the country
would grind to a halt.
- A sobering thought.
- Come and mingle.
Sorry.
I agree with your solution, by the way.
It avoids the courts on the one hand
and on the other...
Quite. It used to be thought,
and I was inclined to agree,
that such mistakes were forgivable
because, unlike the enemy,
we err on the side of decency and trust.
When we pry, we do so blunderingly
and even our most hardened snoopers
are given to thoughts of fair play.
However, thats in the past.
With regard to Chapple, there have been talks
with the attorney general and he has agreed.
But since Blunt, those sort of people,
senior people, have been very, very cagey.
They dont want old age ruined
by a journalist writing a book
or some prime minister making a statement
so theyre publicly blown,
lose their cane, all that.
- Of course.
- I mean, one can understand it.
When it comes to Chapple,
we are not dealing with a grocer.
Immunity should mean immunity,
wouldnt you say?
- Oh, absolutely.
- Lets go down and see the parade.
My view is that we let him get on with it until
we find out how much damage he has done
and have him dead to rights,
which we do not at the moment, legally.
Then we turf out his Soviet contacts
and give him the choice.
Now, as for the other fellow,
hes in the grocer class.
I propose we leave him to Flecker.
Flecker has a very creative bent.
It really is useful having the two of them
in our sights at the same time.
I think we have a knack for this sort of thing.
In the matter of Jones...
Yes, I understand your man
failed to read him right.
It would seem so. Although had the good
friends been less precipitative or more deaf...
Speculation.
The matter is,
if that young man blows the whistle on it,
this entire operation will have been
much worse than pointless.
I hear you.
Im looking to you
to preserve the special relationship.
Or whats left of it.
Sir Adrian Chapple
will be presenting the owner and trainer
of Sea Captain with a trophy,
and a special trophy will be presented to
the winning jockey in the winners' enclosure-
- Mr Jones?
- Yes?
Can I have a word with you a moment, sir?
- Yes. Who are you?
- Im a police officer.
Ive got a bit of bad news.
- What?
- Its about your son, sir.
It seems he fell off a roof.
Its very bad news, Im afraid, sir.
- Are you all right?
- Yes, thank you.
Is he your son?
You formally identify him
as Robert Arthur Jones?
- Yes.
- Thank you.
This has all your sons gear in it.
- Its very light.
- Its all he had on him. Its been examined.
He was dressed. The bed wasnt slept in.
Did you see him often?
Sir?
- His bed wasnt slept in, you say?
- Correct.
- How do you know?
- Well, from the scene-of-crime officer.
Who let him in? The first thing I was told
by your Inspector Brown...
- Bourne.
- Inspector Bourne.
...on the phone this morning
was that Bob was alone in house
over the weekend. The other two were away.
My colleagues borrowed a ladder, went
onto the roof and into the house that way.
I suppose these are cheaper
than a cardboard box or something decent?
Its all there, sir. If youd just sign for it.
Where do I sign?
- Mr Jones?
- Yes?
Bill Pickett.
I had an appointment to talk to your son.
Im very sorry to hear what happened.
- Who are you?
- A journalist.
I dont want to talk. Which paper?
A weekly. The Senator.
Bob may have mentioned me.
No.
- Who did you say you are?
- Bill Pickett.
- The Senator?.
- Thats right.
Prove it.
Well, what did he want to talk to you about?
- Bob?
- Yeah, Bob.
- I dont really know.
- Dont fuck about with me! Hes dead!
- Youre a lefty, aren't you?
- What else?
You want to stir up the Dodgson business.
Thats it, isnt it?
Now Bobs dead, you want to use him.
I dont need to use him to do that,
I assure you.
- How did he get in touch with you?
- He telephoned me.
I checked up on him and called him back.
What?
You dont take it on trust
when someone youve never heard of phones
and says they work at GCHQ
and they want to talk.
I mean, there are laws, and things have been
very jumpy since brother Dodgson.
- When was this?
- Last week.
So why the delay?
I mean, in you two getting together?
Bob said what he wanted to discuss
involved someone else.
The other person didnt want to talk to me.
He hoped to persuade him.
- Thats the lot.
- No, it isnt. Why the appointment today?
He said hed be in touch
with the other person this weekend.
- In touch?
- Yeah.
I brought this to discuss with him.
Look...
Ill give you my telephone number.
You might want to call me.
Not on your life.
- Who told you he was dead?
- That one.
- Hello.
- Hello, Bob?
- No, this is his father.
- Oh, yes, Mr Jones- We've met-
This is Cynthia Goodburn- Is Bob there?
- Uh, no.
- OK, I'll call back- When do you think... - ?
Uh... Hes dead.
What?
- It was an accident.
- Oh, my God!
Oh, my God! Poor Bob!
Oh, God-
- Mrs Goodburn.
- Oh, my God! Not Bob!
- Cynthia.
- Oh, God-
- Mr Jones? I saw you arrive.
I thought you might like some tea.
- Id like to thank you, Rose.
- Why?
- For clearing the place up.
- I didnt. What makes you think...?
Someone did.
- Mr Jones. Mr Jones.
- Perhaps Mark?
- You were in the navy.
- Yes.
- So you'll understand about orders.
- Oh, yes.
Im a section leader, and I have to say this
now and then well all know where we stand.
Oh.
You must be very shocked. Believe me,
it hasnt been easy at my end, either.
- In what way?
- I cant discuss that.
So...
what I have to say is this.
We have orders, Mark and I,
not to discuss Bobs...
What happened.
- Orders?
- Yes.
Particularly with relation to the press,
but with everyone, really.
So if we can just observe that, Mr Jones.
Even relatives?
You cant talk to a father about his dead son?
You cant say anything,
even though it might be comforting?
Do you know what I find difficult, Rose?
Is why it is against the national interest
for the press to print
that you and Mark liked him,
and that, although he tended to have
two left feet and fall over the cat,
he was a decent person with a good heart.
Thats not absolutely fair.
Youre perfectly aware of the way
the press twist things and make them up.
- We have our jobs and our futures, too.
- Yes. Yes, I know.
I can see youre really going to miss him.
How dare you say that?
Im sleeping here tonight. This is Bobs room.
You can put a notice on his food cupboard
and a label on his towel in the bathroom.
Dozy bugger. You nearly had me over.
Is that what happened?
You got under his feet?
No. You were down there.
- Apparently, he fell off the roof in the dark.
- I dont understand.
What was he doing out there?
Rescuing the cat. At least thats what
everybody seems to want me to believe.
Either that or he committed suicide.
Bob, too?
You must feel pretty bruised,
one way and another.
I thought you didnt like me.
I just thought you were bad news for Bob.
I mean, married with a kid and everything.
None of that seems to matter much now.
Weve both lost him.
Not that Im not prejudiced, you understand.
Its just that my prejudices
dont always seem to stand up to actuality.
- Thats what Bob said.
- He did?
Actually, what he said was
that you werent really the old
stick in the mud you made yourself out to be.
That sounds like Bob.
Is there something wrong
with your telephone?
No, I dont think so.
"They have put out the lights
in the ordinary world."
What?
It was something Bob said.
- Mr Jones?
- Yes, very good of you to see me.
Whats the trouble
that the coroner couldnt deal with?
Just to clear my mind,
I'd be very grateful if you would tell me...
Id be grateful if you could tell me whether
your officer took away anything as evidence?
Is something missing? Is that it?
- Yes, I think so.
- You think so.
I think my sons diaries
for this year and last year,
some letters written to him
and some books are missing.
Presumably, because you knew they were
in the room on Sunday last? Youre definite?
No, Inspector. Was anything taken away?
Nothing was removed from the premises
to my knowledge.
I find it a bit difficult to sink in.
Your men went through the house?
Yes.
None of the beds had been slept in and there
was no evidence of anyone having broken in?
- Correct.
- Which leaves the security people.
- What security people?
- GCHQ, of course.
You mustve been in contact with them.
- What we do is our business, Mr Jones.
- L"II remember that for the interview.
- What interview?
- The BBC phoned me.
Right.
We informed your sons place of work.
A sergeant interviewed
some of his colleagues.
We received full cooperation
and there was nothing unusual to report.
I hope that puts your mind at rest.
- How did he die?
- Well, thats for the coroner to decide, sir.
How do you think he died
based on reports you received?
It was almost certainly an accident.
But it could have been a suicide.
Theres no evidence either way. No witnesses.
Theres me. Bob was the last person
in the world to commit suicide.
- Oh, people do it every day.
- Your men took away nothing?
So there was no note and no letter?
If my son had committed suicide,
he would have said why.
- And there was the state of his room.
- What do you mean?
Tidy, really squared away.
Someone else did that. Not Bob - never.
With respect, sir,
youve been watching too much television.
Im sorry Im late.
What do you think of this wine, eh?
- Thanks for coming.
- How was it?
Infuriating. The inspector
was too condescending by half.
And there was another bloke there -
plain clothes. Never opened his mouth.
Ive asked Bill Pickett to join us.
You could see I was trying to get in there.
Oh, tough titty.
All I know is that since Dodgson,
there have been three sudden deaths
at GCHQ Cheltenham in as many months.
The last thing I want to find out is that
our security services had a hand in them.
Why should they?
Do you know what was the most
surprising thing about the CIA revelations?
Their paranoia.
People who spy and tell lies
are like mental patients.
Its a form of flight from reality.
Theyre not answerable and they know it.
Theres no reason for them not to overreact.
And it wont do.
Theyre completely incapable of
distinguishing between dissent and treason.
As far as theyre concerned, anyone
who rocks the boat is a threat. To what?
Their idea of good order.
All right. The point is,
what are we going to do?
Bob didnt tell you the name of the man
Mark put him onto?
He said, uh, what I didnt know
wouldnt hurt me or Tiffany.
Yeah, but he went down
to see this Mr X at East Grinstead
the weekend before he called me.
And came back absolutely certain
that our side wouldnt have thought twice
about murdering Allen if it had suited them.
Presumably thats what he hoped to
persuade this character to confirm to me,
at which point... Bob falls off a roof.
When he was conveniently
alone in the house.
Well, Id better get on and find this Mr X.
There cant be that many dirty-tricks men
living in retirement in East Grinstead.
Although on second thoughts...
Ill be in touch.
- Pickett, I want the truth.
- Dont we all?
I am not interested in making political capital
out of the death of my son.
If this story holds up,
you might not be able to avoid it.
In fact, with a bit of luck,
it might bring down the government.
See you.
Im not out to change the system.
No, but we need someone
with that kind of commitment.
If were right,
what happened to Bob and Allen and us
doesn't affect 98% of the population,
but it could hit any one of them
like a car crash.
The least we can do is tell them the odds.
Lets just stay with the facts.
The people who live there, the police,
the security services, all agree
that there was no suspicion of anything
except an accident or suicide.
- Not suicide.
- OK.
You say thats out of character.
You should know.
In which case, pace the coroner,
the verdict has got to be a tragic accident.
But one -just one -
not very distinguished
politically motivated journalist is in there
trying to whoop it up
into another GCHQ scandal.
And what do you do? You cry murder.
There was his room.
For Gods sake, couldnt your son
have decided to clean up his own room
just once in 28 years?
You may be right.
Theres no "maybe" about it.
Look, Im going to be based in your friendly
neighbourhood Sheraton Hotel for a bit,
so if you feel like drowning your sorrows,
give me a bell.
Right.
Take it easy.
If you tell the majority of people that a bloke
was about to breach our security service,
but he fell off a roof and was killed, theyd
say, serves him right. What do you expect?"
And so would I, because up until now
I was part of that majority.
I would have said you dont sign on for that
and then break your word.
- And now?
- I dont know.
I dont have any powerful friends. I cant go to
my lawyer or my MP. The verdicts already in.
The only way of telling ordinary people
is to go over the heads of that lot.
And that, God help me,
puts me in bed with a bastard like Bill Pickett.
- Hello?
- It's Bill Pickett- Is Frank there?
- Yes.
- We've found our man-
Frank, its Bill for you.
Hes found Mr X.
He wouldn't
give me the name over the phone,
but we were to meet him
at the junction of the A4 and the A217-
Shit!
No!
You might as well take your time, lads.
Move along, please, sir.
For as much as it has pleased
Almighty God of his great mercy
to take unto himself the soul
of our dear brother, Robert Jones...
We therefore commit his body to the ground.
Earth to earth,
ashes to ashes,
dust to dust.
In sure and certain hope of resurrection to
eternal life through Our Lord, Jesus Christ,
who shall change our vile body
that it may be like unto his glorious body,
according to the mighty working
whereby he is able
to subdue all things to himself.
I never understood about revolutionaries.
I do now.
But I dont have the stomach for it.
I dont know what else I can do, Bob.
And thats the truth.
- I was relieved about the verdict, Mr Jones.
- Oh?
I, um...
Sorry to be conspiratorial. Theres nothing to
be conspiratorial about, but since Dodgson...
Look, we were all told to do it after him.
They said it helped keep people on the rails.
And in my position... When they PVd me,
I kept something back, so when Bob...
I told them hed been asking questions
about Goodburns suicide.
Well, you cant blame yourself
for telling the truth.
No. No, of course not. I just...
Look, theres been a terrible atmosphere
at work and every kind of rumour.
I cant imagine how bad it must be for you.
I just wanted to get it off my chest
that Im very sorry.
Dont worry about it. I know you were
Bobs friend and wouldnt let him down.
I wouldnt let them bring in
a verdict of suicide, anyway.
- I cant tell you what a relief it is.
- You see, I think he was murdered.
Oh, Christ.
No, thats impossible. I didnt mean to...
- Look, Id better go.
- Yes, go and tell them what I think.
No, Id never do that,
but I dont believe Bob was murdered.
Oh, yes, you do. You believed it when I said it.
You felt it like I did.
Why do you feel like that, Mark?
Bob was...
like Dostoevskys idiot -
no help to anybody.
All the same, I loved him. Im not gay,
but I loved him because he had this quality.
I dont know why I betrayed him. The quality
he had was to show you what you are.
I dont know.
If it was, Im a sort of natural Judas.
I did it in a dream, almost.
I never meant to, right up to the moment
I knocked on the HEOs door.
The same as now -
I never meant to betray them to you.
You sent him to see someone, we know that.
Who was it?
- I cant say it. I cant say it to you.
- You fucking fruitcake!
Who did you send him to? Eh?
Greig.
Greig?
They told you to send him to Charlie Greig?
They said he was a friend of the family.
Come in, come in.
Get an eyeful, huh?
Thank God for the old expense account.
Where would we be without it?
- Where indeed.
- Take your coat off.
Sit down. What'll it be?
Vodka with anything, really. Tonic.
Right.
Well, its not the real thing,
so, um...
we dont have to be too frugal, do we?
- Are you all right?
- Im fine.
Remember that time
the old man went bananas?
He came onto the main deck,
he said to the marine corporal...
I was there. He said to the marine corporal,
"Get that horse out of my cabin."
Marvellous.
He was a two-bottle-a-day man, he was.
- Well, cheers.
- Cheers.
Nobody remembers
any of that, do they? Korea.
By God. If wed had the same publicity
they gave the Falklands, eh?
All those smartarses saying it wouldnt work,
then when it did,
saying it shouldnt have happened.
I mean, there we were in Korea
flying piston-engined aircraft against MiGs.
How many pilots did we lose
in those two years, eh?
And that was just us.
- We did it, though.
- Yes, we did, didnt we?
You were the best Carmen Miranda
I ever saw.
And you were the best pilot I ever met.
No.
"Fixed wing", as they say now,
but definitely a natural.
So, cheers, old boy.
Cheers.
Its bite-on-a-bullet time.
Im finally beginning to get myself
sorted out about old Bob.
Ive been a bit of a bore about it,
I know, but...
I really miss the silly bugger.
Of course you do.
Oh.
Time to pump ship.
The old bladders beginning to shrink.
You want to watch that - thats the first sign.
Hold hard!
I cant get over you
doing the old James Bond.
I should be so lucky. No birds,
nothing stirred and not much shaken.
Ooh, God. Its... its my turn now.
Oh! Oh!
Oh, God! Oh!
Oh!
Oh! Oh-ho!
Oh, the relief!
Did you... did you hear the one
about the blind man out for a walk?
The guide dog cocks its leg all over him
and the blind man stops
and fishes out a dog biscuit.
Hes just about to offer it
to the faithless hound
when this Barbara Woodhouse character
dashes across...
"Look here," she says,
"you cant reward the animal for doing that!"
"Reward it?" the man says. "Reward it?!"
"I may be blind but Im not daft."
"Im just trying to find out
which end his head is
so as I can kick his arse in!"
- Christ, its warm in there.
- Here we are. Double-O Charlie.
- Double-O Charlie.
- Bottoms up.
- Up spirits.
- Stand...
stand fast the Holy Ghost.
Jesus.
- You want some tonic?
- Tonic, yes.
Here we are.
Here we are. Heres some tonic.
- Ice.
- You want ice with that?
- Yeah.
- Here we are.
Theres some ice, Charlie.
Cheers. Cheers.
- Oh, lovely.
- Oh!
- I keep thinking about that weekend.
- Eh?
Bob alone in the house.
He was my son.
My son.
My son.
Old pal. Old pal.
Thats why I didnt want to get involved.
I told them. I said, "I dont want any part of it."
But...
once youre in, youre in for life.
Theyve got you by the short and curlies.
You know how it is.
Yeah, I know.
And you... you werent any help.
Making out Bob was a timid sort of bloke.
- So you tried to scare him off, eh?
- I knew I bloody could.
"Oh, all right", I said. "Leave it to me", I said.
But because of what happened
to Cynthias husband,
Bob was so shocked,
he became even more suspicious.
You can imagine where that left me.
"You got us into this, Commander,
you get us out of it."
Bastards.
"Oh, yes, sir. No, sir. Three bags full."
I still dont see why you had to kill him.
Kill your son? Me?
Come on, Frank. I know you.
I flew with you.
Besides, we dont do that sort of thing
to our people. Dont look at me like that.
Dont you realise what happened?
Cant you... put it together?
There was no sign of a struggle,
there was no break-in that Sunday.
- Bob was expecting you.
- Nice, but...
Now, if you didnt kill him,
I dont know many ways to fix an accident,
but Ive read about three,
and one of them
is where you jab a certain point
and the bloke blacks out
without leaving any mark. Eh?
Was that your job?
When Id done it,
I went out, left the door unlocked.
But I swear to God, Frank,
he was only unconscious!
I didnt know those bastards...
Fr... Frank.
Forgive me.
I forgive you.
My job was...
to make sure the other lot
could get in without any aggro.
I thought they were just going to, you know,
lean on him a little bit. I mean, I didnt know...
Which other lot?
- You what, old dear?
- Which others, Charlie?
Oh, well,
whoever the Yanks sent in
to do their dirty work for them.
Yanks?
Uh...
The whole setup was...
was so that the Yanks
wouldnt rumble who the real villains were.
- Do you know who they are?
- Oh. Some cipher clerk at GCHQ and...
Who else, Charlie?
No. Ive talked enough already.
Thats cos Im feeling rotten about Bob.
Anyway, knowing wont do you any good.
They'll just lock you up,
or worse, and me if I tell you.
Youre still going to.
Oh!
Chapple!
For Gods sake, Frank!
Sir Adrian bleeding Chapple.
Now do you see? Bob got too close.
Thats why they threw him to the wolves.
Theres not a blind thing that you and me...
We cant do anything about it. No.
Because theyre establishment,
theyre the closed ranks!
So, for Gods sake, Frank...
Oh, Jesus!
I used to be able to drink, you know.
Theres no reason for Mrs Goodburn
or the child to come to any harm,
providing youre sensible.
You must understand that
our special relationship with the Americans
is at a low ebb.
Our record in the matter of security
has been quite appalling.
40 years of damage
inflicted on the alliance by vassals.
Blake, Blunt, Prime, Bettaney,
old uncle Kim Philby and the rest.
We are at the beck and call of the Americans.
Our national survival depends upon it.
The so-called "independent British deterrent"
is a meaningless indulgence to the past.
The days when nuclear stalemate
meant no nuclear war are long gone.
Now, nuclear war is expected and planned for.
All that remains in question
are its timing and extent.
Such warning as we get
will be from electronic espionage
by GCHQ Cheltenham
and its linked stations at home and abroad.
The consequences were the Americans to
deny us access to their giant spy machine
are simply too awful to contemplate.
I could justify a great deal
in terms of the coming wrath.
It is not, happily, my task
to justify the sequence of events
which resulted in your sons tragic death.
I am merely authorised by Her Majestys
government to set the matter in its context.
The Americans believed
that Dodgson had two named associates
involved with him at GCHQ Cheltenham,
and they suspected there was a third man.
Do you see now
why we had to go along with that?
Youre telling me that this whole thing
was to prevent the Americans,
our allies,
from finding out that the real traitors
were higher placed than Kedge or Goodburn?
One of them, certainly.
It was the only chance we had
to uncover him.
- Well, have you?
- Yes.
What did you do with him?
Left him until we assess
the damage hes done
and how most effectively to use him
to embarrass the Russians.
When youll do a deal with him so he can
draw a pension and have tea with the queen.
And you expect me to shut up about the fact
that my son, among other innocents,
were expendable in this charade?
You dont have any alternative, Jones.
What will you do? Arrange another accident?
That wont be necessary.
Any attempt on your part
to publish or broadcast, expose, sue, litigate
on the basis of what you know or may
surmise will simply never see the light of day.
I have killed people before.
And when my best friend
was shot down over Korea,
I also did it with pleasure.
And if I were to kill you,
the publicity surrounding my trial...
Cases involving national security
are held in camera.
If youre thinking of other ways of drawing
public attention to yourself, dont bother.
We would merely arrange for you
to be taken into psychiatric care.
A breakdown following
your sons tragic accident.
As for Mrs Goodburn,
well, you wouldnt be here
if you didnt realise that the child makes her
much more vulnerable than you are.
I had a phone call.
Anonymous. They were polite but, uh...
Ive already lost two people that I loved.
I couldnt bear it
if anything were to happen to Tiffany.
Or you, come to that.
I never, ever thought Id be beaten,
not in my ordinary life.
I always knew Id have to fight,
but I always reckoned Id win.
Thats the worst part of it. I let you down.
You and Bob.
What do you want, Frank?
L"II tell you what I want.
I want to believe in England again.
Ah. Collecting for the British Legion,
I imagine?
Youre fortunate. Its my mans day off.
He lacks charity. Do come in.
Can I offer you a drink?
I expect youd like a beer.
I may not be able to accommodate you there,
but gin or whisky?
No, thank you.
Oh, you dont drink while on duty.
Very laudable, Im sure.
Here.
I dont get it.
- Who are you?
- My son was killed because of you.
Youre clearly deranged.
He got too close to finding out
that our security people
were letting the Americans eliminate stooges
so that they could get a line
on the real villain - you.
So why havent I been arrested?
They wanted you to stay in place
until they found out enough
to make you an offer you couldnt refuse.
If youre right, theres nothing you can do.
Not a lot. They made that clear.
Just tell me...
I mean, my son was killed because of you.
I dont understand how someone like you
with everything going for you
could become a traitor.
I cant be expected to explain my thoughts
to someone of your intellectual calibre.
Oh, I thought the whole point was
that you were on the side of the workers.
Very well.
I had an average, upper-class education.
Genuinely of the right. Churchill was my hero.
I went up to Oxford
and joined the civil service as a high-flyer
content with Britains part in the world.
- So, what happened?
- Nothing.
By which I mean
there was no blinding flash of revelation.
Just gradually I became aware
how insignificant we were.
The world had to choose
between the two superpowers.
I chose Russia.
It wasnt a moral judgment initially,
more an aesthetic one.
It took the Suez affair to bring home
the total futility of the British position.
We tried and failed humiliatingly
to halt the march of progress,
and we had no alternative to offer.
Paradoxically, it was the way
in which the Americans, our allies,
sabotaged that desperate venture that
confirmed my commitment to the other camp.
Nothing thats happened since
has caused me to change it.
Our own political posturing
is neither moral not relevant.
As for America, the standard-bearer
of the West, shes not simply in decline,
shes dying from a combination of greed,
paranoia and social injustice.
And her death throes drive her to
ever more dangerous feats of brinkmanship,
both in Europe, Central America and in space.
If you really believe all that,
why dont you go and live in bloody Russia?
I knew I was wasting my time.
L"II tell you why. Because your sort
always manages to have its cake and eat it.
I mean, look at this place.
- It makes me sick.
- Well, what is it you want?
I want your written confession of what youve
been giving to the Russians and for how long.
It wont do you any good.
I know it wont bring my son back,
but itll stop you living off the fat of a country
youve been betraying for so long
from your secure, pensionable position
near the top of the heap.
- You cant force me...
- Just do it.
As you wish.
I imagine youll want to vet it.
This will do.
- And now perhaps youll return it.
One hates to be melodramatic, but, um...
Argh!
"Any attempt on your part
to publish, broadcast, expose, sue or litigate
will simply never see the light of day-"
And to Gods gracious mercy
and protection we commit you.
The Lord bless you and keep you,
the Lord make his face to shine upon you
and be gracious unto you.
The Lord lift up his countenance upon you
and give you peace,
both now and evermore.
Amen.
Quick march!
It would be conniving to do nothing,
knowing what I know now, don't you see?
Their secret world
has put out the light of the ordinary world-
I still believe that the man in the white hat
always wins in the end,
and I intend to prove it-
what targets a nuclear button will be pressed
is by electronic espionage-
Thats what makes it so appalling
that Dodgson,
a self-confessed and convicted Soviet agent,
was able to hold a position of trust here
for ten years.
It must not happen again.
Each of you, not only section heads,
but each and every one of you,
has simply got to report oddities of behaviour
among your colleagues,
strange events or anything else
that strikes you as out of the ordinary.
Its not only your jobs that are at risk,
its the survival of the free world.
Did you spy
for the Russians for ten years?
Yes.
Did you watch kiddy-porn videos
with Stephen Kedge?
Yes.
Does the photograph that Ive just shown you
contain Allen Goodburn?
Yes.
Did you sometimes see him socially
with his wife Cynthia?
Get this thing off me!
Mr Dodgson,
youve already told me this machine
is no better than a fortune-teller at a fair.
I mean, if its junk, whats your problem?
Are you anti-Black or just anti-American?
A lot of people detest your country
and all it stands for.
In England, thats not yet a crime.
I think we have a problem.
Utah was painful to us, Dodgson. We dont
forgive you for making us look foolish
and for putting another wedge between us
and our good friends.
Youre here to answer yes or no
to our friends questions. Yes or no.
And get on with it.
I'm gonna have to start all over again.
Sit real still.
Keep your eyes on the board.
Your friend Kedge fell under a train.
Looks as though
theyve taken the bait.
As soon as were sure
theyve bitten on Goodburn, I'll let you know.
Take the pills that evening.
Check.
And mate.
Tickets, please.
- Thanks. Cheltenham next stop, sir.
- Thank you.
Any more tickets now, please?
The train on platform two
is the 12:10 from London Paddington -
This is Cheltenham Spa, Cheltenham Spa -
The train will be leaving in five minutes, 12:15,
for Gloucester, Stroud, Kemble,
and London Paddington -
- Dad?
- Bob. You shouldnt have bothered to come.
- Well, youve braved British Rail to get here.
- Ive got a present for you.
The bloke in the Russian book shop
said it was a fair translation.
Its beautiful. Thanks.
- Hows business?
- Struggling.
Yeah?
Over here. By the way, theres someone
coming I particularly want you to meet.
A girl, eh? Its about time.
- Two of them, actually.
- Two?
PV.
PV?
- Its to do with security. Positive vetting.
- Yeah, PV.
- PV? It sounds rude.
- Its all in your mind.
No, no, shes quite right. It is rude.
And I speak as one
whos being PV'd at the moment.
- Its routine.
- Known as the quinquennial review.
Yeah, we are PV'd by IOs, Tiffany.
An IO is not, as you may think,
an intelligence officer,
still less an intelligent officer,
he is an investigating officer.
If something dodgy happens, like someone
with the same name turns up at a peace rally,
then our case is referred to an HEOPVA,
who is, in his glory,
a Higher Executive Officer Positive Vetting...
- Youre drunk!
...Assessor. How dare you say I'm drunk?
Should you be talking like this?
I mean, the Official Secrets Act and all that.
No, no. Youre quite right, Dad.
We shouldnt. It is, after all, a method devised
to let people like Dodgson get away with it.
- Thats not fair. Dodgson was clever.
- This isnt the Soviet Union.
A timely reminder.
- Right.
- Oh, look. Isnt Tiger beautiful?
- Tiger?
- Beautiful?
You know that cat? Hes abnormal.
He gets himself right down there
and he cant get back up again.
Then he howls, and who do you think has to
get up at four in the morning to let him in?
Me.
Come on. Come here, you little monster.
Yes. Look at you.
I sometimes think
if I could assemble a cat-like ladder
then he could make his own way back.
Its nearly 30 feet.
Im going to phone for a taxi
to take me to the station.
- We ought to wash up lunch.
- OK.
- You, too, Mark.
- Bossy cow.
- Bob?
- Mm?
I told Allen.
- How did he take it?
- Terrible.
Bob, hold me.
Make it in about an hour, could you?
Fine. Thank you.
... second thoughts?
- No, of course not.
I just wish we didnt have to
hurt anyone else.
Bob.
- Do you fancy a walk?
- Um, yeah, sure.
And then again, no.
No, I... I want to have a word with you,
so lets go.
Oh...
Im so clumsy. Its bloody ridiculous.
You intend to chuck the job. Thats it, isnt it?
- Yeah.
- Why?
- Well, its a bit complicated.
- Yes, I thought it would be.
Dont be so aggressive, Dad.
Its not very helpful.
In an odd way,
this Dodgson business focused how I feel.
I wondered if you knew him
when I read about the trial.
There are 7,000 of us working at GCHQ.
Its an industry. Ordinary.
Accepted.
I didnt even know Dodgson by sight.
The net result is the business of informing on
one another has now become respectable.
All of us are encouraged to report anything
that strikes us odd about colleagues.
Can you imagine what its like
to be at the mercy of a secret report
from someone youre living with
or working with?
Is that whats happening, Bob?
Someone informed on you?
- Youre being asked to resign?
- No way.
Im not being judged. Its the other way round.
The security people
had egg all over their faces-
Ten years he got away with it-
And then there are the lies-
They start the very first day-
Nobody's what they seem-
Nothing is what it's made out to be-
And you never realise till later,
years later in my case,
that from the very first day,
the truth recedes.
- Dont forget, what they do is necessary.
- Thats a fatal argument, Dad.
Its common sense.
You need a posting or a holiday.
Take one, but dont throw away
six years of seniority.
- God, theres more to life...
- Listen to me.
When I came out after 12 years,
it was no joke making a living
and its taken me over 20 years since then
to find my way, and its still very dodgy.
Cleverer men than me go bankrupt every day.
Times are bad and getting worse.
Lets face it, youre not a computer man
or an engineer or a doctor.
Youre a linguist. Who needs them?
- Are we going to have an argument?
- I shouldnt be surprised.
- Tea?
- All right.
- Go ahead. Knock on the door.
- OK.
- Ta-da! Surprise.
- Oh!
- Ta-da! Happy birthday!
- Thats really kind.
We couldnt do the honours
with the cake without you.
Right. Look at that.
- Shall I blow them out?
- Mm-hm.
One, two, three.
- Dont forget to wish.
- No, I wont.
- Is everything all right?
- Yes.
Your room, Bob,
is even more of a tip than mine.
- Would you like us to tidy it?
- No. Not at any price.
I'd never find anything, would I? Hm?
- It may look a bit chaotic, but...
- It surely does.
- Basically, its very clean.
- And it is his room.
Im sorry, I didnt mean to...
Well, Im going to watch television
with Mark and Rose.
All right. Will that be OK?
Yeah. Here, look, um...
- Bribe them.
- Yes. See you later.
- Bye.
- Bye.
Sit down, Dad.
- Is it all right?
- Very nice.
Here we are. A cup of tea.
Thank you.
Listen, it seems to me
that underneath ordinary life...
God, its so hard to put this clearly.
Underneath the commonplace -
buses in the street, newspapers,
cricket scores, paying the bloody mortgage -
underneath all of that,
there is another, an entirely secret world.
Now, the people who run it,
thousands of them,
appear to live in the light, but they dont.
And I dont.
You see, every day, or nearly every day,
I go to this place to translate surprising,
sometimes terrifying,
and occasionally appalling things.
Look, you know how much
I love the Russian language.
And their literature.
Yes, I do.
Pushkin, for example, killed in a duel
provoked by his unfaithful wife.
Tolstoy, stinking rich and all that guilt.
Dostoevsky missing the firing squad,
gambling like a maniac.
Chekhov, Stanislavsky. You know?
You see, I have a... a world inside my head,
a perspective of Russian life to set against
interminable telephone conversations from...
party officials.
You listen to telephone conversations
with Russian party officials?
Yeah. Out of the Kremlin, even.
I don't care whether professional sceptics,
the hard-boiled boys who run the world,
talk casually of the Bolshoi Ballet
being a cultural weapon, which it is,
and feel nothing as they say it-
I feel something. It hurts me personally.
If the Bolshoi comes,
if I watch and listen to Romeo and Juliet,
I mean, the joy of it
is poisoned by the certainty
that the KGB man
is sitting in the bloody prompt corner.
Their secret world
has put out the light of the ordinary world.
All the more reason
to stick at what youre doing.
No.
I believe, with all my heart,
that our secret world
is on exactly the same tack as theirs.
Enough. Self-righteous little prick.
Our best advice is that hes not a serious risk.
But naturally, we'll keep him covered.
Bother, hes not back yet.
You go in, darling, and Ill put the car away.
God! God, Allen! No!
Its Dodgson, sir.
The duty officer didnt like the look of him.
He says theres hardly any pulse.
Call Hammersmith Hospital.
- Ambulance?
- No, car. Quick, we could lose the bugger.
- Fool!
- Its all right. Shh. It'll be all right.
Shh. Listen to me. L"II deal with the police.
You go and look after Tiffany.
Itll be all right. Go on.
Now, either Im mad,
or somebody killed Allen
and faked it to look like suicide.
- Why on earth should they do that?
- Well, he knew Dodgson, right?
Just suppose Allen
was mixed up in what he was doing.
Hm? The last thing security want
is another scandal.
You dont seriously think
theyd go to those lengths?
I dont know. I dont even know who to ask.
I thought you might have a bright idea.
Not off the top of my head. I mean...
- Let me think about it.
- Fancy a beer?
Thanks. Theres a panic on to calculate
the track of this new Russian spacemongery.
- Well, some other time, then.
- Sure.
Good morning, good morning.
You have slept like a hero.
The woman will make you
the bacon and eggs now.
Is it morning, Alex? It is Alex, isnt it?
Correct. Ah, you remember my name.
Yes, it is morning.
To tell you the truth, it is afternoon.
Theres something...
familiar about this place.
It was here that you met your controller
when he came over in "83.
- Thats right.
- Do you remember?
We smuggled you in
in the bottom of the school bus.
Russian territory in England.
That appeals to me.
It is amusing, yes?
But you must,
on no account, touch the curtains.
Outside, the British are like crazy men
trying to find you
before the press learn of your escape.
When they do, there will be
the most enormous outcry.
We do not believe that the British security
services know you came here before,
but we must assume they will have all our
properties under surveillance with cameras.
You must stay low.
This chap tried to recruit me.
I couldnt tell you before.
He used to be a tearaway -
ripping up telephone directories,
taking the tops off bottles with his teeth.
I cant imagine what made him think
I could get into all that. Anyway, he'll see you.
Ive got his address in the car.
- Morning. Is my guest here?
- Ah, Mr Greig. Ah, yes, Mr Jones.
Yes, hes just through here.
Frank!
Charlie Greig, as I live and breathe.
I couldnt believe it when you called.
- Whats your poison?
- No, no. This is my treat. Pinkers?
- What else, Commander?
- Same for me and make them large ones.
Lets sit down over there.
- This is a turn-up for the book.
- Its been a few years.
Mm-hm.
The only pilot who enjoyed the rocket takeoff
when the catapult failed.
We said we did,
but you meant it, you mad sod.
Well, we were younger in those days.
I remember you blowing your commission,
taking a swing at that chief petty officer
cos you thought he was a bully.
Well, he was, too. CPO Pratt.
Pratt by name and prat by nature.
I know, I know. All the same, I couldnt have
spent my life savings on that kind of gesture.
Well, I wasnt into promotion like you were.
HMS Hawke - white band round your cap.
Thank you.
No dipping your biscuits in your tea.
It was the only way a pilot
could crash the class barrier.
Yeah, well, as you said,
in those days we were younger.
Thank you.
Just when we thought we got civvy street
squared away, Kathy developed this lump.
It wasnt much to speak of.
Turned out to be cancer.
- Dear old boy.
- At least she went quickly.
There didnt seem to be
much point in going on,
especially as my son
wasnt interested in the business.
Thats right. Of course, you had a boy.
Yeah, Bob. Apple of his mothers eye.
Mine, too, but you wouldnt want
to share a cabin with him.
- What? Untidy?
- Shambolic.
Whats he doing now?
Hes a Russian-language specialist at GCHQ.
Bright boy, then.
A bit too bright for his own good. More brains
than sense, you know what I mean?
No, thats not quite fair, but I went down there
the other day for his birthday
and, number one, hes got himself mixed up
with a married woman with a kid.
On top of that,
hes talking about leaving the job.
Hes got it in his head that
what the Russians do in that line of country
is not a lot different from what we do.
- Student talk.
- Hes 28.
Well, its just the time
for pulling the old mans beard.
I was surprised. I mean, he shouted the odds
from time to time, we all did,
but he went for the quiet life
at the end of the day.
Hed run a mile rather than risk trouble.
- Not like you, then?
- No. Takes after his mother, thank God.
Well, thats nice.
What about you? Dont tell me none of those
Wrens managed to drag you to the altar?
You know what they say -
safety in numbers.
The last time I heard of you,
youd joined the cloak-and-dagger brigade.
Still at it, are you?
Retired. In so far as they ever let you retire.
Theyve set me up with a nice little sideline -
vetting firms to make sure theyre kosher,
which, not to beat about the bush,
is why Im here.
A little bird told me youve been supplying
some fair-sized outlets lately.
Satisfied customers, one and all.
Now, theres a government department -
no names, no pack drill -
on the brink of elbowing their quill pens
in favour of word processors.
Its not a contemptible contract, so, um...
always provided your beamish boy isnt
seriously intent on upsetting the apple cart...
Thank you.
...its yours.
Im sorry.
What?
This just feels all wrong.
Well, you wouldnt let me come to your place.
Would you, Bob?
If Im not under surveillance,
I bloody well should be.
- Its not funny.
- Im not laughing at you.
No?
Its just the thought of some SAS type
trying to recruit Mark.
Yes, its a pretty bizarre idea, isnt it?
- Rose, well...
- Yes, Rose.
I can just see her
laying someone out with her handbag.
Do you really have to go and see
that man Mark put you on to?
Yes, I do.
Its not just going to go away, you know.
- Hello, Mahroof.
- Hello, sir.
- Hello.
- Is it wise to smoke on top of that brandy?
- You think Ive been on the town, right?
- Dead right.
In fact, thanks to my service connections
and a willingness to risk liver and lungs,
we are in the running
for a government contract.
Thats fantastic, Frank.
Yes, and if we get it right this time,
theres plenty more.
- Any messages?
- The bank.
Oh, on the strength of this,
I can face even them.
And Bob called. Could you phone him?
Something about meeting him in Gloucester.
Gloucester?
Sorry to drag you all this way, Dad,
but I think Im close to something
that makes my original misgivings
about GCHQ seem like pleasant dreams.
To understand, youve got to remember what
the American secret world has done for years.
I don't just mean
in the way of secret ways and secret codes,
but in perjury, bribery, blackmail,
drug trafficking all over the world,
and, yeah, plain old-fashioned murder.
I mean, Watergate proved the extent these
people can work against their own people.
- That was the end of it.
- No. That just pushed it further underground.
We could never have
a Watergate in this country.
Our secret world is beyond the norm,
which brings me back to what I was saying-
GCHQ Cheltenham is hugely funded by,
and totally integrated with,
the Americans.
Now, you dont believe
we dont do anything they do, hm?
All right.
I dont know what you know
and I dont read what you read,
but I do know that no one in his right mind
risks a secure job these days.
You do have the right to give it up,
so for Gods sake leave it at that.
Resign and walk away.
It would be conniving of me to...
to do nothing, knowing what I know now.
- Dont you see?
- No, I dont. I bloody well dont.
Im sorry, I didnt want to get you going.
I just wanted you to know, thats all.
- Well...
- Yes?
- Mind how you go.
- And you.
Dad, you know
all my movie heroes were American?
Do you remember when we used to be
glued to the telly when I was a kid?
We used to watch them go to the moon and
walk on it. Christ, wasnt that marvelous?
Yeah, well, the worlds changed, thats all.
I still believe the man in the white hat always
wins in the end, and I intend to prove it.
You do, do you?
Yes, sirree.
Bye.
So...
now we see. Please stand up.
Its wonderful. I can hardly recognise myself.
This calls for a toast.
And see, I brought
the comrade colonel something else.
Now, isnt that something?
Alex.
- Thank you.
- No, no, please. Its for you to keep.
- To Russia.
- To Russia.
I wish the comrade colonel
a pleasant journey.
- Thank you for all your help.
- L"II see our friend safely off the premises.
Dont drink all the vodka before I get back.
Trust me.
Lets look before we leap.
All clear.
- You see, you cant fault our security.
- Safe journey.
- 0331 -
- May I speak to Sir Adrian Chapple, please?
Speaking-
Chteau Direct here.
Sorry for being so long in getting back to you.
It appears your order was detained in bond,
but Im assured it'll be released very shortly.
Thank you for letting me know.
This way, please, sir.
One of my better productions.
- They made a wonderful job of the furniture.
- They did indeed, Flecker. Well, well.
Incidentally, whats happening
to Dodgsons prison contact?
The one who passed him the pills and so on?
Hes having ten years off his sentence
and then were sending him
to Northern Ireland.
You do take away with one hand
what you give with the other.
Coming from you?
I dont think
you should find that displeasing.
Good God. Chapple?
We'll never hear the end of it if the Americans
find that out. Well done. Excellent.
He was a very good subject. It helped hed
been to the flat to see his controller before.
- Is it all on video?
- Of course.
- How good of you to come.
- How good of you to ask me down.
First thing first, you like this, I believe?
- Quite right.
- Water? Ice?
- Just as it comes.
- Spoken like a Scotsman.
- There we are.
- Your good health.
My dear fellow. Well, rather different
from the last time you were down here.
Very.
Its as well the Irish are besotted by racing.
Bomb here and the country
would grind to a halt.
- A sobering thought.
- Come and mingle.
Sorry.
I agree with your solution, by the way.
It avoids the courts on the one hand
and on the other...
Quite. It used to be thought,
and I was inclined to agree,
that such mistakes were forgivable
because, unlike the enemy,
we err on the side of decency and trust.
When we pry, we do so blunderingly
and even our most hardened snoopers
are given to thoughts of fair play.
However, thats in the past.
With regard to Chapple, there have been talks
with the attorney general and he has agreed.
But since Blunt, those sort of people,
senior people, have been very, very cagey.
They dont want old age ruined
by a journalist writing a book
or some prime minister making a statement
so theyre publicly blown,
lose their cane, all that.
- Of course.
- I mean, one can understand it.
When it comes to Chapple,
we are not dealing with a grocer.
Immunity should mean immunity,
wouldnt you say?
- Oh, absolutely.
- Lets go down and see the parade.
My view is that we let him get on with it until
we find out how much damage he has done
and have him dead to rights,
which we do not at the moment, legally.
Then we turf out his Soviet contacts
and give him the choice.
Now, as for the other fellow,
hes in the grocer class.
I propose we leave him to Flecker.
Flecker has a very creative bent.
It really is useful having the two of them
in our sights at the same time.
I think we have a knack for this sort of thing.
In the matter of Jones...
Yes, I understand your man
failed to read him right.
It would seem so. Although had the good
friends been less precipitative or more deaf...
Speculation.
The matter is,
if that young man blows the whistle on it,
this entire operation will have been
much worse than pointless.
I hear you.
Im looking to you
to preserve the special relationship.
Or whats left of it.
Sir Adrian Chapple
will be presenting the owner and trainer
of Sea Captain with a trophy,
and a special trophy will be presented to
the winning jockey in the winners' enclosure-
- Mr Jones?
- Yes?
Can I have a word with you a moment, sir?
- Yes. Who are you?
- Im a police officer.
Ive got a bit of bad news.
- What?
- Its about your son, sir.
It seems he fell off a roof.
Its very bad news, Im afraid, sir.
- Are you all right?
- Yes, thank you.
Is he your son?
You formally identify him
as Robert Arthur Jones?
- Yes.
- Thank you.
This has all your sons gear in it.
- Its very light.
- Its all he had on him. Its been examined.
He was dressed. The bed wasnt slept in.
Did you see him often?
Sir?
- His bed wasnt slept in, you say?
- Correct.
- How do you know?
- Well, from the scene-of-crime officer.
Who let him in? The first thing I was told
by your Inspector Brown...
- Bourne.
- Inspector Bourne.
...on the phone this morning
was that Bob was alone in house
over the weekend. The other two were away.
My colleagues borrowed a ladder, went
onto the roof and into the house that way.
I suppose these are cheaper
than a cardboard box or something decent?
Its all there, sir. If youd just sign for it.
Where do I sign?
- Mr Jones?
- Yes?
Bill Pickett.
I had an appointment to talk to your son.
Im very sorry to hear what happened.
- Who are you?
- A journalist.
I dont want to talk. Which paper?
A weekly. The Senator.
Bob may have mentioned me.
No.
- Who did you say you are?
- Bill Pickett.
- The Senator?.
- Thats right.
Prove it.
Well, what did he want to talk to you about?
- Bob?
- Yeah, Bob.
- I dont really know.
- Dont fuck about with me! Hes dead!
- Youre a lefty, aren't you?
- What else?
You want to stir up the Dodgson business.
Thats it, isnt it?
Now Bobs dead, you want to use him.
I dont need to use him to do that,
I assure you.
- How did he get in touch with you?
- He telephoned me.
I checked up on him and called him back.
What?
You dont take it on trust
when someone youve never heard of phones
and says they work at GCHQ
and they want to talk.
I mean, there are laws, and things have been
very jumpy since brother Dodgson.
- When was this?
- Last week.
So why the delay?
I mean, in you two getting together?
Bob said what he wanted to discuss
involved someone else.
The other person didnt want to talk to me.
He hoped to persuade him.
- Thats the lot.
- No, it isnt. Why the appointment today?
He said hed be in touch
with the other person this weekend.
- In touch?
- Yeah.
I brought this to discuss with him.
Look...
Ill give you my telephone number.
You might want to call me.
Not on your life.
- Who told you he was dead?
- That one.
- Hello.
- Hello, Bob?
- No, this is his father.
- Oh, yes, Mr Jones- We've met-
This is Cynthia Goodburn- Is Bob there?
- Uh, no.
- OK, I'll call back- When do you think... - ?
Uh... Hes dead.
What?
- It was an accident.
- Oh, my God!
Oh, my God! Poor Bob!
Oh, God-
- Mrs Goodburn.
- Oh, my God! Not Bob!
- Cynthia.
- Oh, God-
- Mr Jones? I saw you arrive.
I thought you might like some tea.
- Id like to thank you, Rose.
- Why?
- For clearing the place up.
- I didnt. What makes you think...?
Someone did.
- Mr Jones. Mr Jones.
- Perhaps Mark?
- You were in the navy.
- Yes.
- So you'll understand about orders.
- Oh, yes.
Im a section leader, and I have to say this
now and then well all know where we stand.
Oh.
You must be very shocked. Believe me,
it hasnt been easy at my end, either.
- In what way?
- I cant discuss that.
So...
what I have to say is this.
We have orders, Mark and I,
not to discuss Bobs...
What happened.
- Orders?
- Yes.
Particularly with relation to the press,
but with everyone, really.
So if we can just observe that, Mr Jones.
Even relatives?
You cant talk to a father about his dead son?
You cant say anything,
even though it might be comforting?
Do you know what I find difficult, Rose?
Is why it is against the national interest
for the press to print
that you and Mark liked him,
and that, although he tended to have
two left feet and fall over the cat,
he was a decent person with a good heart.
Thats not absolutely fair.
Youre perfectly aware of the way
the press twist things and make them up.
- We have our jobs and our futures, too.
- Yes. Yes, I know.
I can see youre really going to miss him.
How dare you say that?
Im sleeping here tonight. This is Bobs room.
You can put a notice on his food cupboard
and a label on his towel in the bathroom.
Dozy bugger. You nearly had me over.
Is that what happened?
You got under his feet?
No. You were down there.
- Apparently, he fell off the roof in the dark.
- I dont understand.
What was he doing out there?
Rescuing the cat. At least thats what
everybody seems to want me to believe.
Either that or he committed suicide.
Bob, too?
You must feel pretty bruised,
one way and another.
I thought you didnt like me.
I just thought you were bad news for Bob.
I mean, married with a kid and everything.
None of that seems to matter much now.
Weve both lost him.
Not that Im not prejudiced, you understand.
Its just that my prejudices
dont always seem to stand up to actuality.
- Thats what Bob said.
- He did?
Actually, what he said was
that you werent really the old
stick in the mud you made yourself out to be.
That sounds like Bob.
Is there something wrong
with your telephone?
No, I dont think so.
"They have put out the lights
in the ordinary world."
What?
It was something Bob said.
- Mr Jones?
- Yes, very good of you to see me.
Whats the trouble
that the coroner couldnt deal with?
Just to clear my mind,
I'd be very grateful if you would tell me...
Id be grateful if you could tell me whether
your officer took away anything as evidence?
Is something missing? Is that it?
- Yes, I think so.
- You think so.
I think my sons diaries
for this year and last year,
some letters written to him
and some books are missing.
Presumably, because you knew they were
in the room on Sunday last? Youre definite?
No, Inspector. Was anything taken away?
Nothing was removed from the premises
to my knowledge.
I find it a bit difficult to sink in.
Your men went through the house?
Yes.
None of the beds had been slept in and there
was no evidence of anyone having broken in?
- Correct.
- Which leaves the security people.
- What security people?
- GCHQ, of course.
You mustve been in contact with them.
- What we do is our business, Mr Jones.
- L"II remember that for the interview.
- What interview?
- The BBC phoned me.
Right.
We informed your sons place of work.
A sergeant interviewed
some of his colleagues.
We received full cooperation
and there was nothing unusual to report.
I hope that puts your mind at rest.
- How did he die?
- Well, thats for the coroner to decide, sir.
How do you think he died
based on reports you received?
It was almost certainly an accident.
But it could have been a suicide.
Theres no evidence either way. No witnesses.
Theres me. Bob was the last person
in the world to commit suicide.
- Oh, people do it every day.
- Your men took away nothing?
So there was no note and no letter?
If my son had committed suicide,
he would have said why.
- And there was the state of his room.
- What do you mean?
Tidy, really squared away.
Someone else did that. Not Bob - never.
With respect, sir,
youve been watching too much television.
Im sorry Im late.
What do you think of this wine, eh?
- Thanks for coming.
- How was it?
Infuriating. The inspector
was too condescending by half.
And there was another bloke there -
plain clothes. Never opened his mouth.
Ive asked Bill Pickett to join us.
You could see I was trying to get in there.
Oh, tough titty.
All I know is that since Dodgson,
there have been three sudden deaths
at GCHQ Cheltenham in as many months.
The last thing I want to find out is that
our security services had a hand in them.
Why should they?
Do you know what was the most
surprising thing about the CIA revelations?
Their paranoia.
People who spy and tell lies
are like mental patients.
Its a form of flight from reality.
Theyre not answerable and they know it.
Theres no reason for them not to overreact.
And it wont do.
Theyre completely incapable of
distinguishing between dissent and treason.
As far as theyre concerned, anyone
who rocks the boat is a threat. To what?
Their idea of good order.
All right. The point is,
what are we going to do?
Bob didnt tell you the name of the man
Mark put him onto?
He said, uh, what I didnt know
wouldnt hurt me or Tiffany.
Yeah, but he went down
to see this Mr X at East Grinstead
the weekend before he called me.
And came back absolutely certain
that our side wouldnt have thought twice
about murdering Allen if it had suited them.
Presumably thats what he hoped to
persuade this character to confirm to me,
at which point... Bob falls off a roof.
When he was conveniently
alone in the house.
Well, Id better get on and find this Mr X.
There cant be that many dirty-tricks men
living in retirement in East Grinstead.
Although on second thoughts...
Ill be in touch.
- Pickett, I want the truth.
- Dont we all?
I am not interested in making political capital
out of the death of my son.
If this story holds up,
you might not be able to avoid it.
In fact, with a bit of luck,
it might bring down the government.
See you.
Im not out to change the system.
No, but we need someone
with that kind of commitment.
If were right,
what happened to Bob and Allen and us
doesn't affect 98% of the population,
but it could hit any one of them
like a car crash.
The least we can do is tell them the odds.
Lets just stay with the facts.
The people who live there, the police,
the security services, all agree
that there was no suspicion of anything
except an accident or suicide.
- Not suicide.
- OK.
You say thats out of character.
You should know.
In which case, pace the coroner,
the verdict has got to be a tragic accident.
But one -just one -
not very distinguished
politically motivated journalist is in there
trying to whoop it up
into another GCHQ scandal.
And what do you do? You cry murder.
There was his room.
For Gods sake, couldnt your son
have decided to clean up his own room
just once in 28 years?
You may be right.
Theres no "maybe" about it.
Look, Im going to be based in your friendly
neighbourhood Sheraton Hotel for a bit,
so if you feel like drowning your sorrows,
give me a bell.
Right.
Take it easy.
If you tell the majority of people that a bloke
was about to breach our security service,
but he fell off a roof and was killed, theyd
say, serves him right. What do you expect?"
And so would I, because up until now
I was part of that majority.
I would have said you dont sign on for that
and then break your word.
- And now?
- I dont know.
I dont have any powerful friends. I cant go to
my lawyer or my MP. The verdicts already in.
The only way of telling ordinary people
is to go over the heads of that lot.
And that, God help me,
puts me in bed with a bastard like Bill Pickett.
- Hello?
- It's Bill Pickett- Is Frank there?
- Yes.
- We've found our man-
Frank, its Bill for you.
Hes found Mr X.
He wouldn't
give me the name over the phone,
but we were to meet him
at the junction of the A4 and the A217-
Shit!
No!
You might as well take your time, lads.
Move along, please, sir.
For as much as it has pleased
Almighty God of his great mercy
to take unto himself the soul
of our dear brother, Robert Jones...
We therefore commit his body to the ground.
Earth to earth,
ashes to ashes,
dust to dust.
In sure and certain hope of resurrection to
eternal life through Our Lord, Jesus Christ,
who shall change our vile body
that it may be like unto his glorious body,
according to the mighty working
whereby he is able
to subdue all things to himself.
I never understood about revolutionaries.
I do now.
But I dont have the stomach for it.
I dont know what else I can do, Bob.
And thats the truth.
- I was relieved about the verdict, Mr Jones.
- Oh?
I, um...
Sorry to be conspiratorial. Theres nothing to
be conspiratorial about, but since Dodgson...
Look, we were all told to do it after him.
They said it helped keep people on the rails.
And in my position... When they PVd me,
I kept something back, so when Bob...
I told them hed been asking questions
about Goodburns suicide.
Well, you cant blame yourself
for telling the truth.
No. No, of course not. I just...
Look, theres been a terrible atmosphere
at work and every kind of rumour.
I cant imagine how bad it must be for you.
I just wanted to get it off my chest
that Im very sorry.
Dont worry about it. I know you were
Bobs friend and wouldnt let him down.
I wouldnt let them bring in
a verdict of suicide, anyway.
- I cant tell you what a relief it is.
- You see, I think he was murdered.
Oh, Christ.
No, thats impossible. I didnt mean to...
- Look, Id better go.
- Yes, go and tell them what I think.
No, Id never do that,
but I dont believe Bob was murdered.
Oh, yes, you do. You believed it when I said it.
You felt it like I did.
Why do you feel like that, Mark?
Bob was...
like Dostoevskys idiot -
no help to anybody.
All the same, I loved him. Im not gay,
but I loved him because he had this quality.
I dont know why I betrayed him. The quality
he had was to show you what you are.
I dont know.
If it was, Im a sort of natural Judas.
I did it in a dream, almost.
I never meant to, right up to the moment
I knocked on the HEOs door.
The same as now -
I never meant to betray them to you.
You sent him to see someone, we know that.
Who was it?
- I cant say it. I cant say it to you.
- You fucking fruitcake!
Who did you send him to? Eh?
Greig.
Greig?
They told you to send him to Charlie Greig?
They said he was a friend of the family.
Come in, come in.
Get an eyeful, huh?
Thank God for the old expense account.
Where would we be without it?
- Where indeed.
- Take your coat off.
Sit down. What'll it be?
Vodka with anything, really. Tonic.
Right.
Well, its not the real thing,
so, um...
we dont have to be too frugal, do we?
- Are you all right?
- Im fine.
Remember that time
the old man went bananas?
He came onto the main deck,
he said to the marine corporal...
I was there. He said to the marine corporal,
"Get that horse out of my cabin."
Marvellous.
He was a two-bottle-a-day man, he was.
- Well, cheers.
- Cheers.
Nobody remembers
any of that, do they? Korea.
By God. If wed had the same publicity
they gave the Falklands, eh?
All those smartarses saying it wouldnt work,
then when it did,
saying it shouldnt have happened.
I mean, there we were in Korea
flying piston-engined aircraft against MiGs.
How many pilots did we lose
in those two years, eh?
And that was just us.
- We did it, though.
- Yes, we did, didnt we?
You were the best Carmen Miranda
I ever saw.
And you were the best pilot I ever met.
No.
"Fixed wing", as they say now,
but definitely a natural.
So, cheers, old boy.
Cheers.
Its bite-on-a-bullet time.
Im finally beginning to get myself
sorted out about old Bob.
Ive been a bit of a bore about it,
I know, but...
I really miss the silly bugger.
Of course you do.
Oh.
Time to pump ship.
The old bladders beginning to shrink.
You want to watch that - thats the first sign.
Hold hard!
I cant get over you
doing the old James Bond.
I should be so lucky. No birds,
nothing stirred and not much shaken.
Ooh, God. Its... its my turn now.
Oh! Oh!
Oh, God! Oh!
Oh!
Oh! Oh-ho!
Oh, the relief!
Did you... did you hear the one
about the blind man out for a walk?
The guide dog cocks its leg all over him
and the blind man stops
and fishes out a dog biscuit.
Hes just about to offer it
to the faithless hound
when this Barbara Woodhouse character
dashes across...
"Look here," she says,
"you cant reward the animal for doing that!"
"Reward it?" the man says. "Reward it?!"
"I may be blind but Im not daft."
"Im just trying to find out
which end his head is
so as I can kick his arse in!"
- Christ, its warm in there.
- Here we are. Double-O Charlie.
- Double-O Charlie.
- Bottoms up.
- Up spirits.
- Stand...
stand fast the Holy Ghost.
Jesus.
- You want some tonic?
- Tonic, yes.
Here we are.
Here we are. Heres some tonic.
- Ice.
- You want ice with that?
- Yeah.
- Here we are.
Theres some ice, Charlie.
Cheers. Cheers.
- Oh, lovely.
- Oh!
- I keep thinking about that weekend.
- Eh?
Bob alone in the house.
He was my son.
My son.
My son.
Old pal. Old pal.
Thats why I didnt want to get involved.
I told them. I said, "I dont want any part of it."
But...
once youre in, youre in for life.
Theyve got you by the short and curlies.
You know how it is.
Yeah, I know.
And you... you werent any help.
Making out Bob was a timid sort of bloke.
- So you tried to scare him off, eh?
- I knew I bloody could.
"Oh, all right", I said. "Leave it to me", I said.
But because of what happened
to Cynthias husband,
Bob was so shocked,
he became even more suspicious.
You can imagine where that left me.
"You got us into this, Commander,
you get us out of it."
Bastards.
"Oh, yes, sir. No, sir. Three bags full."
I still dont see why you had to kill him.
Kill your son? Me?
Come on, Frank. I know you.
I flew with you.
Besides, we dont do that sort of thing
to our people. Dont look at me like that.
Dont you realise what happened?
Cant you... put it together?
There was no sign of a struggle,
there was no break-in that Sunday.
- Bob was expecting you.
- Nice, but...
Now, if you didnt kill him,
I dont know many ways to fix an accident,
but Ive read about three,
and one of them
is where you jab a certain point
and the bloke blacks out
without leaving any mark. Eh?
Was that your job?
When Id done it,
I went out, left the door unlocked.
But I swear to God, Frank,
he was only unconscious!
I didnt know those bastards...
Fr... Frank.
Forgive me.
I forgive you.
My job was...
to make sure the other lot
could get in without any aggro.
I thought they were just going to, you know,
lean on him a little bit. I mean, I didnt know...
Which other lot?
- You what, old dear?
- Which others, Charlie?
Oh, well,
whoever the Yanks sent in
to do their dirty work for them.
Yanks?
Uh...
The whole setup was...
was so that the Yanks
wouldnt rumble who the real villains were.
- Do you know who they are?
- Oh. Some cipher clerk at GCHQ and...
Who else, Charlie?
No. Ive talked enough already.
Thats cos Im feeling rotten about Bob.
Anyway, knowing wont do you any good.
They'll just lock you up,
or worse, and me if I tell you.
Youre still going to.
Oh!
Chapple!
For Gods sake, Frank!
Sir Adrian bleeding Chapple.
Now do you see? Bob got too close.
Thats why they threw him to the wolves.
Theres not a blind thing that you and me...
We cant do anything about it. No.
Because theyre establishment,
theyre the closed ranks!
So, for Gods sake, Frank...
Oh, Jesus!
I used to be able to drink, you know.
Theres no reason for Mrs Goodburn
or the child to come to any harm,
providing youre sensible.
You must understand that
our special relationship with the Americans
is at a low ebb.
Our record in the matter of security
has been quite appalling.
40 years of damage
inflicted on the alliance by vassals.
Blake, Blunt, Prime, Bettaney,
old uncle Kim Philby and the rest.
We are at the beck and call of the Americans.
Our national survival depends upon it.
The so-called "independent British deterrent"
is a meaningless indulgence to the past.
The days when nuclear stalemate
meant no nuclear war are long gone.
Now, nuclear war is expected and planned for.
All that remains in question
are its timing and extent.
Such warning as we get
will be from electronic espionage
by GCHQ Cheltenham
and its linked stations at home and abroad.
The consequences were the Americans to
deny us access to their giant spy machine
are simply too awful to contemplate.
I could justify a great deal
in terms of the coming wrath.
It is not, happily, my task
to justify the sequence of events
which resulted in your sons tragic death.
I am merely authorised by Her Majestys
government to set the matter in its context.
The Americans believed
that Dodgson had two named associates
involved with him at GCHQ Cheltenham,
and they suspected there was a third man.
Do you see now
why we had to go along with that?
Youre telling me that this whole thing
was to prevent the Americans,
our allies,
from finding out that the real traitors
were higher placed than Kedge or Goodburn?
One of them, certainly.
It was the only chance we had
to uncover him.
- Well, have you?
- Yes.
What did you do with him?
Left him until we assess
the damage hes done
and how most effectively to use him
to embarrass the Russians.
When youll do a deal with him so he can
draw a pension and have tea with the queen.
And you expect me to shut up about the fact
that my son, among other innocents,
were expendable in this charade?
You dont have any alternative, Jones.
What will you do? Arrange another accident?
That wont be necessary.
Any attempt on your part
to publish or broadcast, expose, sue, litigate
on the basis of what you know or may
surmise will simply never see the light of day.
I have killed people before.
And when my best friend
was shot down over Korea,
I also did it with pleasure.
And if I were to kill you,
the publicity surrounding my trial...
Cases involving national security
are held in camera.
If youre thinking of other ways of drawing
public attention to yourself, dont bother.
We would merely arrange for you
to be taken into psychiatric care.
A breakdown following
your sons tragic accident.
As for Mrs Goodburn,
well, you wouldnt be here
if you didnt realise that the child makes her
much more vulnerable than you are.
I had a phone call.
Anonymous. They were polite but, uh...
Ive already lost two people that I loved.
I couldnt bear it
if anything were to happen to Tiffany.
Or you, come to that.
I never, ever thought Id be beaten,
not in my ordinary life.
I always knew Id have to fight,
but I always reckoned Id win.
Thats the worst part of it. I let you down.
You and Bob.
What do you want, Frank?
L"II tell you what I want.
I want to believe in England again.
Ah. Collecting for the British Legion,
I imagine?
Youre fortunate. Its my mans day off.
He lacks charity. Do come in.
Can I offer you a drink?
I expect youd like a beer.
I may not be able to accommodate you there,
but gin or whisky?
No, thank you.
Oh, you dont drink while on duty.
Very laudable, Im sure.
Here.
I dont get it.
- Who are you?
- My son was killed because of you.
Youre clearly deranged.
He got too close to finding out
that our security people
were letting the Americans eliminate stooges
so that they could get a line
on the real villain - you.
So why havent I been arrested?
They wanted you to stay in place
until they found out enough
to make you an offer you couldnt refuse.
If youre right, theres nothing you can do.
Not a lot. They made that clear.
Just tell me...
I mean, my son was killed because of you.
I dont understand how someone like you
with everything going for you
could become a traitor.
I cant be expected to explain my thoughts
to someone of your intellectual calibre.
Oh, I thought the whole point was
that you were on the side of the workers.
Very well.
I had an average, upper-class education.
Genuinely of the right. Churchill was my hero.
I went up to Oxford
and joined the civil service as a high-flyer
content with Britains part in the world.
- So, what happened?
- Nothing.
By which I mean
there was no blinding flash of revelation.
Just gradually I became aware
how insignificant we were.
The world had to choose
between the two superpowers.
I chose Russia.
It wasnt a moral judgment initially,
more an aesthetic one.
It took the Suez affair to bring home
the total futility of the British position.
We tried and failed humiliatingly
to halt the march of progress,
and we had no alternative to offer.
Paradoxically, it was the way
in which the Americans, our allies,
sabotaged that desperate venture that
confirmed my commitment to the other camp.
Nothing thats happened since
has caused me to change it.
Our own political posturing
is neither moral not relevant.
As for America, the standard-bearer
of the West, shes not simply in decline,
shes dying from a combination of greed,
paranoia and social injustice.
And her death throes drive her to
ever more dangerous feats of brinkmanship,
both in Europe, Central America and in space.
If you really believe all that,
why dont you go and live in bloody Russia?
I knew I was wasting my time.
L"II tell you why. Because your sort
always manages to have its cake and eat it.
I mean, look at this place.
- It makes me sick.
- Well, what is it you want?
I want your written confession of what youve
been giving to the Russians and for how long.
It wont do you any good.
I know it wont bring my son back,
but itll stop you living off the fat of a country
youve been betraying for so long
from your secure, pensionable position
near the top of the heap.
- You cant force me...
- Just do it.
As you wish.
I imagine youll want to vet it.
This will do.
- And now perhaps youll return it.
One hates to be melodramatic, but, um...
Argh!
"Any attempt on your part
to publish, broadcast, expose, sue or litigate
will simply never see the light of day-"
And to Gods gracious mercy
and protection we commit you.
The Lord bless you and keep you,
the Lord make his face to shine upon you
and be gracious unto you.
The Lord lift up his countenance upon you
and give you peace,
both now and evermore.
Amen.
Quick march!
It would be conniving to do nothing,
knowing what I know now, don't you see?
Their secret world
has put out the light of the ordinary world-
I still believe that the man in the white hat
always wins in the end,
and I intend to prove it-