Smiley's People (1982) s01e05 Episode Script
Alexandra Tatjana
- All set, are you, Strickland? | - Aye.
All set, sir.
Blue movies, Molly.
Think you can stand it? Probably seen more than we have.
Right, I'm going to show you | two bits of your collateral, without which I wouldn't believe a word of it.
All right, Strickland.
Act one, scene one.
| Close your eyes, Molly.
Here they are, the four of them.
Rollicking about.
These girls put on quite a turn, | I think, for hookers.
Here's the burn.
Somebody's turned | the lights up.
Probably Kretzschmar.
And Leipzig's saying, "Gotcha.
" Wind it on, Strickland.
| We can watch the rest some other time.
What's there's enough to have Kirov scalped | in Moscow, right, Molly? It certainly would on Karla's side of the house.
And all right.
This is about, what, an hour later? | They're back into their city suits.
- 41 minutes, 20 seconds.
| - Attagirl.
I like that bit.
So now Kirov sings.
The story of his life.
Switch it off, Strickland.
Get us a drink.
Scotch, everyone? George? - I'll pass, thank you.
| - Right.
Four, then.
Ice and water.
Where the hell are they? Ah.
(SIGHS) Bloody things.
OK.
Common ground.
It's not a fake.
Right, Molly? Not unless Kirov was collaborating | in a piece of fabrication.
You mean Kirov and Leipzig stinging us, cooking up a tale together, | earning a few bob on the side? I say.
You have got a dirty mind.
I don't think it's a serious possibility.
Here we go.
The nub of it.
Brother Kirov's lament followed by - here we are - | Brother Kirov's confession.
- Now All comfortable? | - Snug as a bug, Chief.
Ears pinned back, George? Page 69.
Sorry about that.
Didn't hear me.
Never mind.
I'm Kirov.
"The Thirteenth Directorate | is a secret service within Moscow Centre.
" Thanks.
We all knew that.
"Its task is the placing | and servicing of illegal agents "under deep cover in fascist countries, | known also as moles.
" Shades of bloody Bill Haydon.
Hm? | Sorry, George.
You'd think a man making | his deathbed confession would keep it brief.
But oh, no, not our Kirov.
So over to page hundred and something.
Two.
Off we go again.
"In the course of my investigations | into financial irregularities in Moscow Centre, "two officers of Karla's directorate | came into question.
"As a result of my activities, | both were summarily executed "and I thus came personally | to the attention of Karla himself.
" - That tallies, does it, Molly? | - Grade four reports of that period confirm, Chief.
- What does that mean, darling? | - It means maybe, Chief.
All right there, George? You look a bit bilious.
Me? Oh, yes, thank you.
Quite all right.
We're not too rich for your blood, eh? Good.
Right.
Chapter two.
Karla summons Kirov to his lair in the forest.
Heart in mouth, Kirov comes running.
Tête-à-tête.
No witnesses.
Small wooden hut.
| Monastic atmosphere.
No trimmings.
Karla asks if Kirov would like a posting to Europe.
Kirov would like it very much.
Creep, crawl, creep.
Strickland, check people's glasses, will you? Interesting.
Kirov thought Karla looked twitchy.
| Under stress.
Smoking like a chimney.
- (SMILEY) He always did that.
| - What? He was always an excessive smoker.
Was he, by God? Was he? Didn't think he had any vices.
Blah, blah, blah.
"I would be responsible | for the conduct and control of financial accounts "in all the outstations of the Thirteenth Directorate | in the following cities" And then he goes on Thanks.
| Goes on to name them.
Bonn, Hamburg et al.
- Peter? | - Yes? - Not losing you in the labyrinth? | - No, sir.
I want you to hold on to George's coat-tails.
| You know that? - No, sir.
| - Well, you know now.
OK? Here's the 64-dollar one.
"Karla also warned me | I would be required to find cover backgrounds, "or legends, for future agents.
" Now we're at the bone.
He adds a note for cretins.
"A legend | is Moscow Centre jargon for a spy's biography.
" - Thank you, Oleg.
George.
| - Saul? - Let yourself go.
Have a Scotch.
| - If you insist.
Good.
Away we go again.
"I had not been in Paris long | when a personal signal from Karla advised me "a legend was required urgently | for a female agent, age about 26 years.
"Karla's signal referred me to several émigré | families who might be persuaded by pressure "to adopt such an agent as their own child, "since blackmail is considered | preferable technique to bribery.
" Damn right, it is.
Cheers.
With inflation, blackmail's | about the only thing that holds its value.
Interregnum.
Kirov dutifully trawls the émigrés, without result.
Karla exhorts Kirov to greater efforts.
Kirov strives still harder and goofs again.
- Kirov was no good, was he, George? | - No.
Karla didn't dare trust his own chaps.
| That's your point.
And so he had to go out into the sticks and recruit an ape like Kirov.
- Yes.
| - A clod.
The sort who'd never make Sarratt.
That reminds me, George.
Did you twist | that fellow Mostyn's tail, by any chance? - What do you mean? | - I thought so.
That's why I sacked him.
Tried to sell him to the BBC, | but they wouldn't have him.
- What's he up to now, Strickland? | - He's in retreat.
Joined an order of Franciscan monks | near Ipswich.
Ipswich? Cold bloody spot to pray.
The point is, I suppose, having set up his apparatus, | trained it to accept his iron rule, Karla didn't dare use it for this deal.
- That's your point? | - That's my point.
Ergo we're dealing with | a bunch of ninnies, not hoods.
- Not ninnies, just ordinary people.
| - You mean hoods aren't? Karla was under stress.
He had to take risks.
- Like bumping chaps off.
| - That was more recent.
You're bloody forgiving these days, George.
Am I? If you say so.
- And bloody meek too.
Molly? | - Yes, Chief.
- You checked this last lot as well? | - Yes, and it fits, Chief.
Bravo.
"After I had been unsuccessful for some time | to find a legend" Oh, my Lord alive.
This prose.
"to find a legend, | Karla again summoned me to his presence "and drew my attention | to the case of the woman Ostrakova, "whose unacknowledged daughter | was a citizen of the Soviet Union.
"Following my approach to Ostrakova, "and the formal issuing of a French permit | to her daughter Alexandra, "I was instructed to set aside immediately "10,000 American dollars a month | from the Paris imprest.
"The monthly payment | was not expended by myself "but transferred to a bank in Thun | in the Swiss canton of Berne.
"The transfer is made by standing orders | to the credit of Dr Adolf Glaser.
"Glaser is the work name of the commercial | counsellor at the Soviet embassy in Berne.
"His real name is Grigoriev.
"I know this because Karla told me | in case there were complications.
"This is all I know.
" Except there is a nice little PS.
"Otto, my friend, I beg you to preserve | these confidences.
They could kill me.
" He's right.
They did.
That's Kirov's last will and testament, | you might say.
- Well, that's it, George.
| - Yes.
Molly, watch my every move, will you? I'll spell it out because I'm thick.
One, Ostrakova writes to Vladimir.
Her message rings old bells.
Two, Vladimir sends a copy of her letter | to Otto Leipzig.
Three, Leipzig roars off to Paris, | gets confirmation from Ostrakova, "Yes, it is Oleg Kirov on the warpath again.
" Four, Leipzig gooses Kirov in Hamburg.
| Burns him rotten.
All right, so far, everyone? | Peter, still stumbling after me, are you? I think so, sir.
- How's marriage? | - Blissful, thank you, sir.
Give it three years.
Onward and upward.
Leipzig burns Kirov rotten | and gets word back to Vladimir.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Karla smells a rat.
He sends for Kirov back to Moscow | under the pretext of promotion but swings him by the ears.
Kirov sings, as I would, fast.
Now Karla tries to get the toothpaste | back into the tube.
He kills Vladimir while he's on his way | to our rendezvous.
Kills Leipzig.
Tries to flatten the old lady, only wings her.
- What's his mood now? | - Impatient.
Why doesn't he dig up his treasure, | put it somewhere and cover his traces? The shit's in the fan.
Kirov's confessed.
Perhaps the treasure refuses to be moved.
| Perhaps Karla's options have run out.
It's madness to keep | that Swiss bank account intact.
It was madness to use a fool like Kirov.
It was madness to approach Ostrakova and to believe that by killing three people | he could stop the leak.
And Karla does believe it, or Grigoriev would | not still be in Berne, which Strickland confirms.
As of today, Counsellor Grigoriev of the Soviet | embassy in Berne is alive and en poste.
Then moving the bank account | would be totally unnecessary.
So what is Karla up to? Giving himself a pension? I mean! We all want a bit to retire on, but jeepers! Has he got a bird somewhere? Who's worth ten grand a month | and his whole damn career? It's simply a question | of whether your service wants the product.
Personally, I can't see that anything else | is of any importance.
Can't you? Can't you, by God? Oh, I want him all right.
I want the Mona Lisa and the Chairman | of the Chinese People's Republic.
I want Karla sitting in the hot seat at Sarratt, | coughing out his life story to the inquisitors.
I want the American cousins | eating out of my hand.
I want the whole ball game, of course I It isn't some wicked Bolshie plot, is it, George, to lure us to our ultimate destruction? - I'm afraid we're no longer worth the candle.
| - (LAUGHS) All right, Maud.
| Leave these people to their privacy.
Let's go into the garden.
You'll need people.
| Babysitters, lamplighters, all the forbidden toys.
Don't talk to me about it.
Find them.
Money's a different matter.
I can lose you in | Accounts for years, the way the Treasury works.
Let me know when, where and how much.
I'll do a Karla and fiddle the accounts.
How about passports? | Do you need any addresses? I can manage, thank you.
I shall watch you.
Day and night.
If this plan aborts and there's a scandal, I won't have anybody telling me | I should have staked you out.
I shall just say the whole catastrophe's | a ludicrous piece of private enterprise by a senile spy who's lost his marbles.
This chap in Berne, | the one who's getting the cash.
Grigoriev.
- He's your next stop? | - What's his record? Pure as the driven snow.
One of the very few.
Straight-up-and-down commercial counsellor.
Used to be an economics don | in some Bolshie university.
His wife's a harridan.
- I'll want Toby Esterhase.
| - He's a crook.
Yes, he is.
I'll want a safe house near London airport too.
- Guillam can find it.
| - Talk to Strickland.
We'll just rent it ourselves, | if you don't mind, and send you the bill.
Millie McCraig to come and manage it.
I'll want all the papers, particularly | anything on Grigoriev's behaviour patterns.
I'll want the Karla papers too.
Since you wrote them, | I can hardly refuse.
Anything else? If there is, I'll let you know.
- You have my totally deniable blessing.
| - Thank you.
Who's this Millie McCraig? Someone special? Just your best housekeeper.
And your oldest.
- Concerning Lacon | - What about him? He's a little leaky.
| Doesn't know whether he's a hare or a hound.
- I don't want him to know a damn thing.
| - So I assumed.
Sorry you've become an instrument in the | imperial hypocrisy, but there's a lot of it about.
- How's Ann? | - Well, thank you.
Karla still got that cigarette lighter she gave you? | Still using it, is he? - Pretty grating, I'd find that.
| - So I imagine.
What was that all about? | Karla pinch it from you, did he? Or did you give it to him in a weak moment? You were interrogating him out in Delhi.
| That time he gave you the slip.
It was just an ordinary Ronson.
Still, they were made to last, weren't they? (DOORBELL) Wait here.
She lets me have the whole top floor, | 5,000 francs a month, special price.
I'll say it's special.
- Is there anything to go? | - No, not till next week.
How many people will you need to man it? For a lace-curtain job 24 hours a day, | I need 12 people.
Less, I cut my throat.
| Four teams of three.
Minimum.
- Do they get a special price? | - For George they do it for nothing.
No western prospect.
How do you get over that? George, leave it to me.
You hire Toby | Esterhase, you have a Toby Esterhase service.
Cars, Toby.
We can't rely on stealing | Swiss postal vans, economic though it may be.
George.
It's the one that used to hang in your room.
| Saul must have dumped it there.
You want a picture of Karla? | I get you one, more up to date than that.
- Authentic provenance, no question.
| - Shut up.
Thank you, Toby.
| I'm only interested in the original.
Waiter.
Now, George, do you think | we set our women up too high? Is that where | we English middle-class chaps go wrong? It may be, Oliver.
Yes.
Well, if it isn't, | why does Val always fall for shits? We were taught to cherish women.
If you didn't make them feel loved | every moment, they'd go off the rails.
But this chap Val's with, well, if she annoys him or speaks out of turn, he'll like as not give her a black eye.
You and I never do that, do we? I'm sure we don't.
Grazie, signori.
Look here.
Do you think if I went and bearded her | in his house, took a tough line, threatened legal action and so forth, | that might tip the scales? I'm bigger than he is, God knows.
| I'm not without clout, whichever way you read me.
Have a good holiday, anyway.
You deserve it.
- Going somewhere warm? | - I thought I'd just take off and wander.
Oh! Lucky you.
My God, I envy your freedom.
You've been useful.
| I'll follow your advice to the letter.
I didn't give you any advice.
That other business is all squared away, | I hear from Saul.
- No loose ends, no messiness.
| - Chelsea.
George, bless you.
You've been a brick.
We're birds of a feather, George.
Both patriots.
Givers, not takers.
Trained to our services, country.
We must pay the price.
If Ann had been your agent instead of your wife, you'd probably have run her pretty well.
(TAPS ON ROOF) - Oh, sir.
Oh, dear.
| - Hello, Mrs Tremedda.
(CLOCK CHIMES) - (DOOR CLOSES) | - Hello, Harry.
- How's bloody London? | - Bloody as usual.
Hm.
Looks it.
Thanks a lot.
Not like he used to be at all, is he? | If it's not death duties, it's his temper.
None of his own children | won't come see him any more.
Only his niece.
- Breakfast? | - No.
- Walk? | - A short walk would be nice.
- Just nice? | - I'd like a walk very much.
- Can you wear Harry's boots? | - I always used to be able to.
You can take his coat as well.
It's those logs, Mrs Tremedda.
| They must be damp or something.
Elm never did burn.
Dead or alive.
Saul Enderby still run the ship? If you can call it running.
You used to say they were the people | who ruined England.
Did I? Who were THEY in those days? I forget.
Most of my family.
Including Uncle Harry.
What did they do wrong? Stayed the same, I suppose.
Missed the changes.
Wouldn't face them.
Left the future up for grabs.
I don't know.
I don't know what I thought.
It was a hundred years ago.
I'm going away for a bit.
| I didn't want to say anything on the telephone.
- Abroad? | - Just a job I have to do.
I don't want you going to Bywater Street | in my absence.
You came to tell me | Bywater Street is out of bounds? In a way.
Let me try it differently.
If Bywater Street had been in bounds, | would you have suggested that I went there? Or are you telling me | that Bywater Street is out of bounds for good? - Practicalities.
| - It's a practical question.
- How long will you be away? | - Weeks.
Longer, perhaps.
- Where will you stay? | - In a hotel.
- Then back to Bywater Street? | - If it hasn't been blown up.
- Is it your Black Grail? | - Black Grail.
- Bill Haydon's phrase.
| - Is it? Why won't you tell me anything any more? Do you really think I told Bill Haydon | anything about you? - Wasn't much he didn't know.
| - I'm all you've got, George.
I'm all there is.
There isn't anything else.
I want to stop looking.
I want you to do the same.
Oh, for God's sake, let's pull down the shutters | and be a boring married couple.
I came to tell you that while I'm away Well, it's widely known | within the intelligence fraternity, on all sides, that you used to be dear to me.
So you and I are both at risk while I'm away.
I don't want anyone taking hostages or revenge.
What are you trying to say? I want you to stay here and lie low | and not go to London.
I'm sending a couple of chaps to watch over you.
| I have to leave now.
The big one's Arthur | and the other's called something else.
They'll be here this afternoon.
I'm afraid they'll haunt the place | and drive your Uncle Harry mad.
And afterwards, George? Goodbye.
Thank Harry for his things.
Thank you, Ferguson.
| Don't want it too tidy, do we? No, sir.
Goodbye, sir.
It's been a pleasure.
Goodbye, Millie.
- How was she? | - Fine.
Just fine.
I can't come, George.
- Saul says I'm not deniable enough.
| - I'm sorry.
- Is there anything I can do? | - No, I don't think so, thank you.
Have you got a box of matches, by any chance? - Is this your first visit to Berne, sir? | - Yes, I'm afraid it is.
- Please sign here, Mr Barraclew.
| - Barraclough.
Oh, excuse me.
Mr Barraclough.
Of course.
Thank you.
Number 18, half a mile on the right.
| The Grigorievs have got the ground floor.
- Who's above them? | - Two old women.
Teachers.
Most of the Iron Curtain crowd live in Muri, | not here in Elfenau.
It's a commune.
They do everything in groups.
They go for walks in groups.
| Most likely they screw in groups.
The Grigorievs are different.
Three months ago they moved out of Muri | and rented this apartment on a personal basis.
3,500 a month, George.
| He pays it personal to the landlord.
- Cash? | - Monthly, in one-hundred notes.
(SPEAKING SWISS GERMAN) The police boys are worried about bombs.
They think the Palestinians | will blow the place sky-high.
That's been good and bad for us.
If we get clumsy, | Grigoriev can tell himself we're local angels.
That don't go for the police.
| You know what I mean? The Swiss police, George You need all the protection you can get.
| They're expensive but worth it.
100 metres on the right, George.
| Look for a black Mercedes in the forecourt.
Other staff use the embassy car pool.
| Grigoriev drives his own Mercedes.
- When did he get it? | - Three months ago, second-hand.
Same time as he moved out of Muri.
They're at home! Bottom window right.
- We go past again, OK? Once more for luck.
| - No, Toby.
- George! | - No.
- Was that their car? | - Sure.
The very one.
They love it.
They polish it day and night.
Grigorieva got herself a driving licence | two months ago and she's terrible.
But terrible like lousy.
| You know what Pauli Skordeno says to me? He says, "Toby, I need danger money | just to follow that woman.
" Now, you ready, George? Change here for all stations east.
Today was a model of last week, | last week a model of the week before.
Every Thursday's the same.
After work he takes the Mercedes to the garage, fills it with petrol and oil, | asks for a receipt, goes home.
Six o'clock, an embassy car arrives | at his front door and out gets Krassky, the regular Thursday courier from Moscow.
Alone.
That's a very itchy fellow.
A professional.
But to visit Grigoriev, | Krassky breaks ranks and goes alone.
Stays a little time, leaves again.
Why? - Are both the Grigorievs there when he calls? | - Sure.
Always.
- Does he bring anything? | - In the hands, no.
- Leave with anything? | - Not visible, no.
- How long does he stay? | - Half an hour.
Maybe more.
That's very irregular in a courier, George.
It's very dangerous if he hasn't got | the protection back in Moscow.
George, listen, OK? Watchers imagine things.
| Well, they've got to.
It's their job.
There's a girl | works in the Soviet embassy visa section.
The boys call her Little Natasha.
Saturdays, she comes to the embassy.
To work.
A couple of times, Grigoriev drives her home.
We took some pictures.
Not bad.
Well, maybe the boys want it that way | just because of Grigorieva.
Well, they like the guy, George.
You know how watchers are.
| It's love or hate all the time.
They like him.
What do you make of Grigoriev? What is he? A trained hood Grigoriev isn't, George.
He's no tradecraft.
| He's actually a complete catastrophe.
But he's not straight either.
He's a half-breed.
So which way will he jump when we hit him? Burning, George.
That's always a hazard, | you know what I mean? Some guys get heroic | and want to die for their country.
Other guys roll over and lie still | the moment you put an arm on them.
Burning, that touches | the stubbornness in certain people.
- So how conscious is he? | - Of us? George, he's Russian, OK? | A Russian thinks the butterflies are spying on him.
But he doesn't know we're here.
Definitely.
I want it lace curtains all the way.
If you're | following him, ring the changes non-stop.
- Better to lose him than have him flush you.
| - Yes, I understand.
- Got enough transport? | - Any more, I get embarrassed.
- How did the rehearsal go? | - Smooth as silk.
- What time do you want me there? | - 11 o'clock, earliest.
11 is already too early.
- Grigoriev won't arrive until 12.
| - I'll be there at 11.
- Good night.
| - Good night, George.
Good luck.
(WOMAN) Sasha, get up immediately.
Sasha? Wake up.
You'll be late for breakfast.
The other girls will look at you | and say we stupid Russians are always late.
Sasha? Sasha! Do you want to miss prayers? God will be very angry with you, Sasha.
He will be sad.
He will cry.
| He may have to think of ways to punish you.
Sasha, have you forgotten | you have your visitor today? Hello? I'm waiting for Mr Jacobi.
I'll have a café crème in a glass, please.
If it comes in a glass, | you must have schnapps with it.
A cup will do just as well.
- Ah! Herr Jacobi.
| - Hans! How goes it? Huh? - Schnapps? | - Perfect.
The Grigorievs left the house five minutes ago.
She's driving.
| Most likely they die before they get here.
- Did she drive last week? | - Also the week before.
She insists.
George, that woman is a monster.
(CLICKS TONGUE) Why does he go to the bank now, | with no one to distract attention from him? He has completely mistaken quiet for security.
He likes the lunch hour because nobody in Thun | wastes his lunch hour going to the bank.
Empty places, empty times.
- He's so conspicuous, he's embarrassing.
| - (PHONE RINGS) Listen, it's going to be a nice day, believe me.
You just sit back and enjoy the show.
You wrote the script, George.
It's your show.
- (WAITRESS) Herr Jacobi.
| - Ja.
Make that two, Hans.
(WAITRESS SIGHS AND GIGGLES) Ciao.
Everyone in position.
Everyone happy.
(CAR HORN) (WOMAN) Grigoriev! (WOMAN SHOUTS IN RUSSIAN) - Good morning.
| - Good morning.
10,000 as usual, please.
(CAMERA CLICKS) (CAMERA CLICKS) (SPEAKS SWISS GERMAN) (REPLIES IN BROKEN GERMAN) Grigoriev drew his normal 10,000.
The same as last week, | the same as the week before.
We got it, George.
The whole scene! | The boys are very happy, the girls too.
George, they are fantastic.
Completely the best.
I never had so good.
What do you think of him? You see Litzi Meinertzhagen | tell her off for parking? Photographing her all the time.
| George, I love that girl! - Where do the Grigorievs go from here? | - Lunch at the station buffet, first-class.
Grigoriev has a salad.
She has steak and chips, | a glass of beer and a slice of cake.
George, the guy will fold, believe me.
- You never had a wife like that.
| - No, I don't think I did.
You think he wants to be locked up in a | two-room flat in Moscow with that bitch for ever? Don't worry.
(GRIGORIEV GRUNTS) Greetings, Alexandra Borisovna.
- Greetings, Uncle Anton.
| - Behave yourself! You should buy yourself brown bicycle clips.
Repeat to me, please, | your full name with patronymic.
My name is Tatiana and I come from the moon.
Two weeks ago you requested | a copy of "Torrents Of Spring" by Soviet writer Turgenev.
Have you read this work or not? Mother Felicity was reading it to me | but she has a sore throat.
And you have reached | what page of this work, please? I lied to you.
She stopped reading it as a punishment | for throwing my food on the floor.
- Page? | - Four thousand and eight.
Where do you come from, Uncle Anton, please? Pay attention to me while I make a statement.
Until you tell me my real uncle refuse to answer any more of your questions.
Who gives you the money | to pay for my detention here? To whom do you pass my answers | which you so meticulously write down? Repeat to me, please, | your full name with patronymic.
Alexandra Borisovna Ostrakova.
How do you feel this week, Sasha? Thank you, Uncle Anton.
| I have been feeling much better this week.
The doctor says my crisis | is already far behind me.
Have you received by any means | of post, telephone, word of mouth, any communication from outside persons? Why do you never make love to me, Uncle Anton? You can, you know.
(RINGS BELL) Uncle Anton and I are engaged | to be married, Mother Felicity.
Well, goodbye, Sasha.
Until next week, eh? Page four thousand and eight, eh? You think you're crazy? (SCREAMS) (SISTER SHOUTS) Mr Barraclough.
Sir, the telephone.
I'm sorry.
A Mr Anslem.
- Please, sir.
| - Barraclough.
The Geneva bureau has just informed us | that the managing director is on his way to Berne.
- With his wife? | - Madame is obliged to make an excursion.
If you could meet me in the office, | Mr Barraclough.
I'll be with you in a minute.
- I'm a good Swiss.
Business comes first.
| - I'll put it with your key.
Shall I call a taxi? - No, thank you, I'll walk.
| - Yes, sir.
Grigoriev left the embassy | five minutes ago on his own.
- He's heading for the town.
What do you say? | - Where's his wife? Picking mushrooms with the kids | in the Elfenau woods.
- Who's on him? | - Two on foot, a back-up car behind, two ahead.
- Do we go or don't we? | - Where's he making for? Town! What do I know? | Maybe he goes to see Natasha.
We got him alone, George.
It's now or never.
- Who's on the house? | - Two girls, plus Karli Matt on a bicycle.
The green light, George? | George, we are speaking of seconds here.
- And on the wife? | - Pete Eggli with two reliefs.
The green light.
Let's go.
All set, sir.
Blue movies, Molly.
Think you can stand it? Probably seen more than we have.
Right, I'm going to show you | two bits of your collateral, without which I wouldn't believe a word of it.
All right, Strickland.
Act one, scene one.
| Close your eyes, Molly.
Here they are, the four of them.
Rollicking about.
These girls put on quite a turn, | I think, for hookers.
Here's the burn.
Somebody's turned | the lights up.
Probably Kretzschmar.
And Leipzig's saying, "Gotcha.
" Wind it on, Strickland.
| We can watch the rest some other time.
What's there's enough to have Kirov scalped | in Moscow, right, Molly? It certainly would on Karla's side of the house.
And all right.
This is about, what, an hour later? | They're back into their city suits.
- 41 minutes, 20 seconds.
| - Attagirl.
I like that bit.
So now Kirov sings.
The story of his life.
Switch it off, Strickland.
Get us a drink.
Scotch, everyone? George? - I'll pass, thank you.
| - Right.
Four, then.
Ice and water.
Where the hell are they? Ah.
(SIGHS) Bloody things.
OK.
Common ground.
It's not a fake.
Right, Molly? Not unless Kirov was collaborating | in a piece of fabrication.
You mean Kirov and Leipzig stinging us, cooking up a tale together, | earning a few bob on the side? I say.
You have got a dirty mind.
I don't think it's a serious possibility.
Here we go.
The nub of it.
Brother Kirov's lament followed by - here we are - | Brother Kirov's confession.
- Now All comfortable? | - Snug as a bug, Chief.
Ears pinned back, George? Page 69.
Sorry about that.
Didn't hear me.
Never mind.
I'm Kirov.
"The Thirteenth Directorate | is a secret service within Moscow Centre.
" Thanks.
We all knew that.
"Its task is the placing | and servicing of illegal agents "under deep cover in fascist countries, | known also as moles.
" Shades of bloody Bill Haydon.
Hm? | Sorry, George.
You'd think a man making | his deathbed confession would keep it brief.
But oh, no, not our Kirov.
So over to page hundred and something.
Two.
Off we go again.
"In the course of my investigations | into financial irregularities in Moscow Centre, "two officers of Karla's directorate | came into question.
"As a result of my activities, | both were summarily executed "and I thus came personally | to the attention of Karla himself.
" - That tallies, does it, Molly? | - Grade four reports of that period confirm, Chief.
- What does that mean, darling? | - It means maybe, Chief.
All right there, George? You look a bit bilious.
Me? Oh, yes, thank you.
Quite all right.
We're not too rich for your blood, eh? Good.
Right.
Chapter two.
Karla summons Kirov to his lair in the forest.
Heart in mouth, Kirov comes running.
Tête-à-tête.
No witnesses.
Small wooden hut.
| Monastic atmosphere.
No trimmings.
Karla asks if Kirov would like a posting to Europe.
Kirov would like it very much.
Creep, crawl, creep.
Strickland, check people's glasses, will you? Interesting.
Kirov thought Karla looked twitchy.
| Under stress.
Smoking like a chimney.
- (SMILEY) He always did that.
| - What? He was always an excessive smoker.
Was he, by God? Was he? Didn't think he had any vices.
Blah, blah, blah.
"I would be responsible | for the conduct and control of financial accounts "in all the outstations of the Thirteenth Directorate | in the following cities" And then he goes on Thanks.
| Goes on to name them.
Bonn, Hamburg et al.
- Peter? | - Yes? - Not losing you in the labyrinth? | - No, sir.
I want you to hold on to George's coat-tails.
| You know that? - No, sir.
| - Well, you know now.
OK? Here's the 64-dollar one.
"Karla also warned me | I would be required to find cover backgrounds, "or legends, for future agents.
" Now we're at the bone.
He adds a note for cretins.
"A legend | is Moscow Centre jargon for a spy's biography.
" - Thank you, Oleg.
George.
| - Saul? - Let yourself go.
Have a Scotch.
| - If you insist.
Good.
Away we go again.
"I had not been in Paris long | when a personal signal from Karla advised me "a legend was required urgently | for a female agent, age about 26 years.
"Karla's signal referred me to several émigré | families who might be persuaded by pressure "to adopt such an agent as their own child, "since blackmail is considered | preferable technique to bribery.
" Damn right, it is.
Cheers.
With inflation, blackmail's | about the only thing that holds its value.
Interregnum.
Kirov dutifully trawls the émigrés, without result.
Karla exhorts Kirov to greater efforts.
Kirov strives still harder and goofs again.
- Kirov was no good, was he, George? | - No.
Karla didn't dare trust his own chaps.
| That's your point.
And so he had to go out into the sticks and recruit an ape like Kirov.
- Yes.
| - A clod.
The sort who'd never make Sarratt.
That reminds me, George.
Did you twist | that fellow Mostyn's tail, by any chance? - What do you mean? | - I thought so.
That's why I sacked him.
Tried to sell him to the BBC, | but they wouldn't have him.
- What's he up to now, Strickland? | - He's in retreat.
Joined an order of Franciscan monks | near Ipswich.
Ipswich? Cold bloody spot to pray.
The point is, I suppose, having set up his apparatus, | trained it to accept his iron rule, Karla didn't dare use it for this deal.
- That's your point? | - That's my point.
Ergo we're dealing with | a bunch of ninnies, not hoods.
- Not ninnies, just ordinary people.
| - You mean hoods aren't? Karla was under stress.
He had to take risks.
- Like bumping chaps off.
| - That was more recent.
You're bloody forgiving these days, George.
Am I? If you say so.
- And bloody meek too.
Molly? | - Yes, Chief.
- You checked this last lot as well? | - Yes, and it fits, Chief.
Bravo.
"After I had been unsuccessful for some time | to find a legend" Oh, my Lord alive.
This prose.
"to find a legend, | Karla again summoned me to his presence "and drew my attention | to the case of the woman Ostrakova, "whose unacknowledged daughter | was a citizen of the Soviet Union.
"Following my approach to Ostrakova, "and the formal issuing of a French permit | to her daughter Alexandra, "I was instructed to set aside immediately "10,000 American dollars a month | from the Paris imprest.
"The monthly payment | was not expended by myself "but transferred to a bank in Thun | in the Swiss canton of Berne.
"The transfer is made by standing orders | to the credit of Dr Adolf Glaser.
"Glaser is the work name of the commercial | counsellor at the Soviet embassy in Berne.
"His real name is Grigoriev.
"I know this because Karla told me | in case there were complications.
"This is all I know.
" Except there is a nice little PS.
"Otto, my friend, I beg you to preserve | these confidences.
They could kill me.
" He's right.
They did.
That's Kirov's last will and testament, | you might say.
- Well, that's it, George.
| - Yes.
Molly, watch my every move, will you? I'll spell it out because I'm thick.
One, Ostrakova writes to Vladimir.
Her message rings old bells.
Two, Vladimir sends a copy of her letter | to Otto Leipzig.
Three, Leipzig roars off to Paris, | gets confirmation from Ostrakova, "Yes, it is Oleg Kirov on the warpath again.
" Four, Leipzig gooses Kirov in Hamburg.
| Burns him rotten.
All right, so far, everyone? | Peter, still stumbling after me, are you? I think so, sir.
- How's marriage? | - Blissful, thank you, sir.
Give it three years.
Onward and upward.
Leipzig burns Kirov rotten | and gets word back to Vladimir.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Karla smells a rat.
He sends for Kirov back to Moscow | under the pretext of promotion but swings him by the ears.
Kirov sings, as I would, fast.
Now Karla tries to get the toothpaste | back into the tube.
He kills Vladimir while he's on his way | to our rendezvous.
Kills Leipzig.
Tries to flatten the old lady, only wings her.
- What's his mood now? | - Impatient.
Why doesn't he dig up his treasure, | put it somewhere and cover his traces? The shit's in the fan.
Kirov's confessed.
Perhaps the treasure refuses to be moved.
| Perhaps Karla's options have run out.
It's madness to keep | that Swiss bank account intact.
It was madness to use a fool like Kirov.
It was madness to approach Ostrakova and to believe that by killing three people | he could stop the leak.
And Karla does believe it, or Grigoriev would | not still be in Berne, which Strickland confirms.
As of today, Counsellor Grigoriev of the Soviet | embassy in Berne is alive and en poste.
Then moving the bank account | would be totally unnecessary.
So what is Karla up to? Giving himself a pension? I mean! We all want a bit to retire on, but jeepers! Has he got a bird somewhere? Who's worth ten grand a month | and his whole damn career? It's simply a question | of whether your service wants the product.
Personally, I can't see that anything else | is of any importance.
Can't you? Can't you, by God? Oh, I want him all right.
I want the Mona Lisa and the Chairman | of the Chinese People's Republic.
I want Karla sitting in the hot seat at Sarratt, | coughing out his life story to the inquisitors.
I want the American cousins | eating out of my hand.
I want the whole ball game, of course I It isn't some wicked Bolshie plot, is it, George, to lure us to our ultimate destruction? - I'm afraid we're no longer worth the candle.
| - (LAUGHS) All right, Maud.
| Leave these people to their privacy.
Let's go into the garden.
You'll need people.
| Babysitters, lamplighters, all the forbidden toys.
Don't talk to me about it.
Find them.
Money's a different matter.
I can lose you in | Accounts for years, the way the Treasury works.
Let me know when, where and how much.
I'll do a Karla and fiddle the accounts.
How about passports? | Do you need any addresses? I can manage, thank you.
I shall watch you.
Day and night.
If this plan aborts and there's a scandal, I won't have anybody telling me | I should have staked you out.
I shall just say the whole catastrophe's | a ludicrous piece of private enterprise by a senile spy who's lost his marbles.
This chap in Berne, | the one who's getting the cash.
Grigoriev.
- He's your next stop? | - What's his record? Pure as the driven snow.
One of the very few.
Straight-up-and-down commercial counsellor.
Used to be an economics don | in some Bolshie university.
His wife's a harridan.
- I'll want Toby Esterhase.
| - He's a crook.
Yes, he is.
I'll want a safe house near London airport too.
- Guillam can find it.
| - Talk to Strickland.
We'll just rent it ourselves, | if you don't mind, and send you the bill.
Millie McCraig to come and manage it.
I'll want all the papers, particularly | anything on Grigoriev's behaviour patterns.
I'll want the Karla papers too.
Since you wrote them, | I can hardly refuse.
Anything else? If there is, I'll let you know.
- You have my totally deniable blessing.
| - Thank you.
Who's this Millie McCraig? Someone special? Just your best housekeeper.
And your oldest.
- Concerning Lacon | - What about him? He's a little leaky.
| Doesn't know whether he's a hare or a hound.
- I don't want him to know a damn thing.
| - So I assumed.
Sorry you've become an instrument in the | imperial hypocrisy, but there's a lot of it about.
- How's Ann? | - Well, thank you.
Karla still got that cigarette lighter she gave you? | Still using it, is he? - Pretty grating, I'd find that.
| - So I imagine.
What was that all about? | Karla pinch it from you, did he? Or did you give it to him in a weak moment? You were interrogating him out in Delhi.
| That time he gave you the slip.
It was just an ordinary Ronson.
Still, they were made to last, weren't they? (DOORBELL) Wait here.
She lets me have the whole top floor, | 5,000 francs a month, special price.
I'll say it's special.
- Is there anything to go? | - No, not till next week.
How many people will you need to man it? For a lace-curtain job 24 hours a day, | I need 12 people.
Less, I cut my throat.
| Four teams of three.
Minimum.
- Do they get a special price? | - For George they do it for nothing.
No western prospect.
How do you get over that? George, leave it to me.
You hire Toby | Esterhase, you have a Toby Esterhase service.
Cars, Toby.
We can't rely on stealing | Swiss postal vans, economic though it may be.
George.
It's the one that used to hang in your room.
| Saul must have dumped it there.
You want a picture of Karla? | I get you one, more up to date than that.
- Authentic provenance, no question.
| - Shut up.
Thank you, Toby.
| I'm only interested in the original.
Waiter.
Now, George, do you think | we set our women up too high? Is that where | we English middle-class chaps go wrong? It may be, Oliver.
Yes.
Well, if it isn't, | why does Val always fall for shits? We were taught to cherish women.
If you didn't make them feel loved | every moment, they'd go off the rails.
But this chap Val's with, well, if she annoys him or speaks out of turn, he'll like as not give her a black eye.
You and I never do that, do we? I'm sure we don't.
Grazie, signori.
Look here.
Do you think if I went and bearded her | in his house, took a tough line, threatened legal action and so forth, | that might tip the scales? I'm bigger than he is, God knows.
| I'm not without clout, whichever way you read me.
Have a good holiday, anyway.
You deserve it.
- Going somewhere warm? | - I thought I'd just take off and wander.
Oh! Lucky you.
My God, I envy your freedom.
You've been useful.
| I'll follow your advice to the letter.
I didn't give you any advice.
That other business is all squared away, | I hear from Saul.
- No loose ends, no messiness.
| - Chelsea.
George, bless you.
You've been a brick.
We're birds of a feather, George.
Both patriots.
Givers, not takers.
Trained to our services, country.
We must pay the price.
If Ann had been your agent instead of your wife, you'd probably have run her pretty well.
(TAPS ON ROOF) - Oh, sir.
Oh, dear.
| - Hello, Mrs Tremedda.
(CLOCK CHIMES) - (DOOR CLOSES) | - Hello, Harry.
- How's bloody London? | - Bloody as usual.
Hm.
Looks it.
Thanks a lot.
Not like he used to be at all, is he? | If it's not death duties, it's his temper.
None of his own children | won't come see him any more.
Only his niece.
- Breakfast? | - No.
- Walk? | - A short walk would be nice.
- Just nice? | - I'd like a walk very much.
- Can you wear Harry's boots? | - I always used to be able to.
You can take his coat as well.
It's those logs, Mrs Tremedda.
| They must be damp or something.
Elm never did burn.
Dead or alive.
Saul Enderby still run the ship? If you can call it running.
You used to say they were the people | who ruined England.
Did I? Who were THEY in those days? I forget.
Most of my family.
Including Uncle Harry.
What did they do wrong? Stayed the same, I suppose.
Missed the changes.
Wouldn't face them.
Left the future up for grabs.
I don't know.
I don't know what I thought.
It was a hundred years ago.
I'm going away for a bit.
| I didn't want to say anything on the telephone.
- Abroad? | - Just a job I have to do.
I don't want you going to Bywater Street | in my absence.
You came to tell me | Bywater Street is out of bounds? In a way.
Let me try it differently.
If Bywater Street had been in bounds, | would you have suggested that I went there? Or are you telling me | that Bywater Street is out of bounds for good? - Practicalities.
| - It's a practical question.
- How long will you be away? | - Weeks.
Longer, perhaps.
- Where will you stay? | - In a hotel.
- Then back to Bywater Street? | - If it hasn't been blown up.
- Is it your Black Grail? | - Black Grail.
- Bill Haydon's phrase.
| - Is it? Why won't you tell me anything any more? Do you really think I told Bill Haydon | anything about you? - Wasn't much he didn't know.
| - I'm all you've got, George.
I'm all there is.
There isn't anything else.
I want to stop looking.
I want you to do the same.
Oh, for God's sake, let's pull down the shutters | and be a boring married couple.
I came to tell you that while I'm away Well, it's widely known | within the intelligence fraternity, on all sides, that you used to be dear to me.
So you and I are both at risk while I'm away.
I don't want anyone taking hostages or revenge.
What are you trying to say? I want you to stay here and lie low | and not go to London.
I'm sending a couple of chaps to watch over you.
| I have to leave now.
The big one's Arthur | and the other's called something else.
They'll be here this afternoon.
I'm afraid they'll haunt the place | and drive your Uncle Harry mad.
And afterwards, George? Goodbye.
Thank Harry for his things.
Thank you, Ferguson.
| Don't want it too tidy, do we? No, sir.
Goodbye, sir.
It's been a pleasure.
Goodbye, Millie.
- How was she? | - Fine.
Just fine.
I can't come, George.
- Saul says I'm not deniable enough.
| - I'm sorry.
- Is there anything I can do? | - No, I don't think so, thank you.
Have you got a box of matches, by any chance? - Is this your first visit to Berne, sir? | - Yes, I'm afraid it is.
- Please sign here, Mr Barraclew.
| - Barraclough.
Oh, excuse me.
Mr Barraclough.
Of course.
Thank you.
Number 18, half a mile on the right.
| The Grigorievs have got the ground floor.
- Who's above them? | - Two old women.
Teachers.
Most of the Iron Curtain crowd live in Muri, | not here in Elfenau.
It's a commune.
They do everything in groups.
They go for walks in groups.
| Most likely they screw in groups.
The Grigorievs are different.
Three months ago they moved out of Muri | and rented this apartment on a personal basis.
3,500 a month, George.
| He pays it personal to the landlord.
- Cash? | - Monthly, in one-hundred notes.
(SPEAKING SWISS GERMAN) The police boys are worried about bombs.
They think the Palestinians | will blow the place sky-high.
That's been good and bad for us.
If we get clumsy, | Grigoriev can tell himself we're local angels.
That don't go for the police.
| You know what I mean? The Swiss police, George You need all the protection you can get.
| They're expensive but worth it.
100 metres on the right, George.
| Look for a black Mercedes in the forecourt.
Other staff use the embassy car pool.
| Grigoriev drives his own Mercedes.
- When did he get it? | - Three months ago, second-hand.
Same time as he moved out of Muri.
They're at home! Bottom window right.
- We go past again, OK? Once more for luck.
| - No, Toby.
- George! | - No.
- Was that their car? | - Sure.
The very one.
They love it.
They polish it day and night.
Grigorieva got herself a driving licence | two months ago and she's terrible.
But terrible like lousy.
| You know what Pauli Skordeno says to me? He says, "Toby, I need danger money | just to follow that woman.
" Now, you ready, George? Change here for all stations east.
Today was a model of last week, | last week a model of the week before.
Every Thursday's the same.
After work he takes the Mercedes to the garage, fills it with petrol and oil, | asks for a receipt, goes home.
Six o'clock, an embassy car arrives | at his front door and out gets Krassky, the regular Thursday courier from Moscow.
Alone.
That's a very itchy fellow.
A professional.
But to visit Grigoriev, | Krassky breaks ranks and goes alone.
Stays a little time, leaves again.
Why? - Are both the Grigorievs there when he calls? | - Sure.
Always.
- Does he bring anything? | - In the hands, no.
- Leave with anything? | - Not visible, no.
- How long does he stay? | - Half an hour.
Maybe more.
That's very irregular in a courier, George.
It's very dangerous if he hasn't got | the protection back in Moscow.
George, listen, OK? Watchers imagine things.
| Well, they've got to.
It's their job.
There's a girl | works in the Soviet embassy visa section.
The boys call her Little Natasha.
Saturdays, she comes to the embassy.
To work.
A couple of times, Grigoriev drives her home.
We took some pictures.
Not bad.
Well, maybe the boys want it that way | just because of Grigorieva.
Well, they like the guy, George.
You know how watchers are.
| It's love or hate all the time.
They like him.
What do you make of Grigoriev? What is he? A trained hood Grigoriev isn't, George.
He's no tradecraft.
| He's actually a complete catastrophe.
But he's not straight either.
He's a half-breed.
So which way will he jump when we hit him? Burning, George.
That's always a hazard, | you know what I mean? Some guys get heroic | and want to die for their country.
Other guys roll over and lie still | the moment you put an arm on them.
Burning, that touches | the stubbornness in certain people.
- So how conscious is he? | - Of us? George, he's Russian, OK? | A Russian thinks the butterflies are spying on him.
But he doesn't know we're here.
Definitely.
I want it lace curtains all the way.
If you're | following him, ring the changes non-stop.
- Better to lose him than have him flush you.
| - Yes, I understand.
- Got enough transport? | - Any more, I get embarrassed.
- How did the rehearsal go? | - Smooth as silk.
- What time do you want me there? | - 11 o'clock, earliest.
11 is already too early.
- Grigoriev won't arrive until 12.
| - I'll be there at 11.
- Good night.
| - Good night, George.
Good luck.
(WOMAN) Sasha, get up immediately.
Sasha? Wake up.
You'll be late for breakfast.
The other girls will look at you | and say we stupid Russians are always late.
Sasha? Sasha! Do you want to miss prayers? God will be very angry with you, Sasha.
He will be sad.
He will cry.
| He may have to think of ways to punish you.
Sasha, have you forgotten | you have your visitor today? Hello? I'm waiting for Mr Jacobi.
I'll have a café crème in a glass, please.
If it comes in a glass, | you must have schnapps with it.
A cup will do just as well.
- Ah! Herr Jacobi.
| - Hans! How goes it? Huh? - Schnapps? | - Perfect.
The Grigorievs left the house five minutes ago.
She's driving.
| Most likely they die before they get here.
- Did she drive last week? | - Also the week before.
She insists.
George, that woman is a monster.
(CLICKS TONGUE) Why does he go to the bank now, | with no one to distract attention from him? He has completely mistaken quiet for security.
He likes the lunch hour because nobody in Thun | wastes his lunch hour going to the bank.
Empty places, empty times.
- He's so conspicuous, he's embarrassing.
| - (PHONE RINGS) Listen, it's going to be a nice day, believe me.
You just sit back and enjoy the show.
You wrote the script, George.
It's your show.
- (WAITRESS) Herr Jacobi.
| - Ja.
Make that two, Hans.
(WAITRESS SIGHS AND GIGGLES) Ciao.
Everyone in position.
Everyone happy.
(CAR HORN) (WOMAN) Grigoriev! (WOMAN SHOUTS IN RUSSIAN) - Good morning.
| - Good morning.
10,000 as usual, please.
(CAMERA CLICKS) (CAMERA CLICKS) (SPEAKS SWISS GERMAN) (REPLIES IN BROKEN GERMAN) Grigoriev drew his normal 10,000.
The same as last week, | the same as the week before.
We got it, George.
The whole scene! | The boys are very happy, the girls too.
George, they are fantastic.
Completely the best.
I never had so good.
What do you think of him? You see Litzi Meinertzhagen | tell her off for parking? Photographing her all the time.
| George, I love that girl! - Where do the Grigorievs go from here? | - Lunch at the station buffet, first-class.
Grigoriev has a salad.
She has steak and chips, | a glass of beer and a slice of cake.
George, the guy will fold, believe me.
- You never had a wife like that.
| - No, I don't think I did.
You think he wants to be locked up in a | two-room flat in Moscow with that bitch for ever? Don't worry.
(GRIGORIEV GRUNTS) Greetings, Alexandra Borisovna.
- Greetings, Uncle Anton.
| - Behave yourself! You should buy yourself brown bicycle clips.
Repeat to me, please, | your full name with patronymic.
My name is Tatiana and I come from the moon.
Two weeks ago you requested | a copy of "Torrents Of Spring" by Soviet writer Turgenev.
Have you read this work or not? Mother Felicity was reading it to me | but she has a sore throat.
And you have reached | what page of this work, please? I lied to you.
She stopped reading it as a punishment | for throwing my food on the floor.
- Page? | - Four thousand and eight.
Where do you come from, Uncle Anton, please? Pay attention to me while I make a statement.
Until you tell me my real uncle refuse to answer any more of your questions.
Who gives you the money | to pay for my detention here? To whom do you pass my answers | which you so meticulously write down? Repeat to me, please, | your full name with patronymic.
Alexandra Borisovna Ostrakova.
How do you feel this week, Sasha? Thank you, Uncle Anton.
| I have been feeling much better this week.
The doctor says my crisis | is already far behind me.
Have you received by any means | of post, telephone, word of mouth, any communication from outside persons? Why do you never make love to me, Uncle Anton? You can, you know.
(RINGS BELL) Uncle Anton and I are engaged | to be married, Mother Felicity.
Well, goodbye, Sasha.
Until next week, eh? Page four thousand and eight, eh? You think you're crazy? (SCREAMS) (SISTER SHOUTS) Mr Barraclough.
Sir, the telephone.
I'm sorry.
A Mr Anslem.
- Please, sir.
| - Barraclough.
The Geneva bureau has just informed us | that the managing director is on his way to Berne.
- With his wife? | - Madame is obliged to make an excursion.
If you could meet me in the office, | Mr Barraclough.
I'll be with you in a minute.
- I'm a good Swiss.
Business comes first.
| - I'll put it with your key.
Shall I call a taxi? - No, thank you, I'll walk.
| - Yes, sir.
Grigoriev left the embassy | five minutes ago on his own.
- He's heading for the town.
What do you say? | - Where's his wife? Picking mushrooms with the kids | in the Elfenau woods.
- Who's on him? | - Two on foot, a back-up car behind, two ahead.
- Do we go or don't we? | - Where's he making for? Town! What do I know? | Maybe he goes to see Natasha.
We got him alone, George.
It's now or never.
- Who's on the house? | - Two girls, plus Karli Matt on a bicycle.
The green light, George? | George, we are speaking of seconds here.
- And on the wife? | - Pete Eggli with two reliefs.
The green light.
Let's go.