All language subtitles for The Man From U.N.C.L.E. S03E02 The Sort of Do-It-Yourself Dreadful Affair

Oh, yes. Oh, yes, yes...

It happened. She just twisted
the head off and walked away.

No offense, Napoleon...

but she probably thought
the dummy was you.

That's not funny. It's true.

After you had put two
full clips of bullets into her?

Seems reasonable.
She did it in a fit of pique.

Goodbye.

Come in, gentlemen.

How do you feel, Mr. Solo?

Oh, I feel fine, sir, thank you.

Yes, I thought you'd say that.

Mr. Kuryakin...

we've managed to secure a copy
of Thrush's current financial report.

Care to examine it?

Total assets:

$1,654,420,749.

I think we can dispense with the
tone of naked greed, Mr. Kuryakin.

Sorry, sir.

Point is that Thrush is attempting to
borrow a substantial sum of money...

from the Swiss Fiduciary Bank.

But why?

They would appear
to be quite solvent.

More so than we are, I daresay.

I'm quite sure they're able to support
their normal activities with ease.

It would follow that this
particular enterprise...

is, well, hardly a normal one.

And so they go outside for
financing behind a dummy front?

Of course.

Happily, our Zurich
branch was quite alert.

Then I'll be leaving
for Switzerland?

No.

Whatever their project is, it seems
to originate here in the United States.

Swiss Bank is sending an appraiser to
gauge solvency as collateral on the loan.

What will be my cover?

You, Mr. Kuryakin, will be the
vice president of the local branch.

You'll try to look
like a banker?

Wait.

I thought that was
my assignment.

Originally, yes.

Now Mr. Kuryakin will have to
be briefed to take over for you.

Oh, what am I to do, uh...?

Rest, Mr. Solo. You've
been working much too hard.

This latest episode only
confirms a preliminary diagnosis...

the medical section has
had on you for some time.

The medic...?

Uh, sir, I was attacked.

Yes, of course.

By a woman with the ability
to tear apart a steel cage...

who was just about to kill you when she
suddenly turned around and walked away.

Well, don't worry about not
getting the correspondence...

from the pawn-shop
safe, Napoleon.

Our Zurich section managed to
get the information at their end.

Look, everybody here seems to
think that for some reason, I'm...

Now, uh, the Triptych Section
has set up reservations for you...

at a spa in the Grand Bahamas.

Just think, Napoleon. All those lovely
women waiting to give you a massage.

Lots of rest, peace
of mind and body.

I don't need any rest, I don't
need any peace of mind, I...

Mr. Kuryakin, will you help
Mr. Solo pack a few necessities?

Yes, sir.

That's good, Andy, now hold it.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Now make it look like Mata Hari.

Okay, Andy, make
this real good, huh?

Now, the client's
gonna love this one.

Look, look real
irresistible, you know?

Hey, Muriel, Muriel, Muriel.

Hey, where are you going?

Hey, what are you doing? Cut. For
crying out loud, you're not through yet.

That was my ex-roommate. She
ran out on three months' rent...

and left me with
a big phone bill.

Dr. Pertwee.

Dr. Pertwee.

Oh, Mr. Lash, and Margo.

How very nice to, uh, um...

How are you? What's new? Uh...

Have you seen my, uh, um...?

Dr. Pertwee, I understand your
Model A-77 is still wandering the streets.

Uh-huh, yes.

Um, er, Dr. Zohmer there, you
see, he programmed the model...

to protect the safe in
that, um, pawn shop.

Then something happened
to confuse the relays.

So it's probably still looking
for that, uh, um, intruder.

You have made a serious error.

It was a very hurried job.

Margo, I think you'd
better call Disposal.

But, Mr. Lash, I have been
a loyal Thrush employee.

I have worked on this
project for three years.

This is my first mistake.

How unfortunate you won't be
able to use us as a reference...

on your next position.

Mr. Lash, Dr. Pertwee.

I, uh... I've made a mistake.
This is my first mistake.

Don't do this, please.
It's my first mistake.

- No, no!
- What are you going to do with him?

Uh, we have a pension plan.

He'll be well taken care of.

Oh, I'm so glad.

I was afraid you were going
to, um, fire the poor man.

Thrush is a very
progressive organization.

We don't fire our employees.

Now, Dr. Pertwee,
what are you going to do?

We can't have the A-77 wandering
about New York fully primed.

Well, uh, as I've
already told you...

I think I've already told you.

Yes, of course,
I've already told you.

Doctor, we cannot afford to have our
working model fall into enemy hands.

Precisely what can
you do, Pertwee?

Well, it might take me a little time,
but, uh, I can cut in the self-destruct.

Now, that will stop the
model, and then, uh...

Don't worry, Napoleon, just think
about all those Nordic women...

waiting to, uh, massage
your poor tired body.

You'll return as good as new.

I'm as good as new now.

I admit I'd enjoy having
a few Nordic women...

massage my poor
tired body occasionally.

But not...

Illya.

Illya!

It's no use, Illya. It
won't do any good.

I think the bullets did
some good after all.

No, it wasn't the bullets.

There were some holes in her clothing,
but not a single shell entered her body.

They must have bounced off.

- Uh, what else did you discover?
- Well...

For openers, this cupcake
hasn't got an appendix.

Well, what's the big deal?
I don't have one either.

Well, not only has she no appendix,
but she has no spleen, no liver...

no kidneys, no larynx,
no salivary glands.

And in case this hasn't
reached you sufficiently...

she only has
two-thirds of her brain.

But that doesn't really matter,
because the other two lobes...

are composed chiefly of colloid
plastics and permeable animal matter...

liberally seeded with
printed circuits, electrodes...

ceramic breakers, and
various other odds and ends...

you might find among the
paper clips of your desk drawer.

That's a robot?

Mm-mm. Not by any means.

A living creature
with artificial parts.

A composite, something Burke and
Hare might have gathered in graveyards...

if this were Edinburgh,
18th century. Heh, heh.

A sort of
do-it-yourself dreadful.

And, uh, as an
added attraction...

- this incredibly...
- Oh!

This unbelievably gorgeous face.

Oh, poor Muriel.

Well, I don't know what the proper
thing to do is in a case like this...

but, uh, I suggest you
arrange a decent funeral for her.

Come, my dear.

It's too much.

I'm afraid we'll have to ask you
a few questions, Miss Francis.

Oh, yes, of course.

As for you, Mr. Solo, it would seem you
are neither delusionary nor overworked.

Well, since my sanity
is no longer in question...

I'll be off to the spa.

Cease the flummery, Mr. Solo.

You're formally
back on this affair.

Miss Francis, could you tell
us a little more about that, uh...?

The unfortunate young
lady we've just left?

Well, I lived with her for two
years, and her name was...

Is. Was, I guess.

Anyway, her name
was Muriel Bollinger.

And she just ran off
about three months ago...

and left me with a
whale of a phone bill.

I mean, I don't even know
anyone in Cleveland, Ohio.

And I never even heard of
Weeki Wachee Springs, Florida.

- I mean, it was almost a $200 bill...
- Yes, yes, yes, quite, quite.

Mr. Kuryakin, take Miss Francis
with you. Follow up this affair.

In some curious way, it seems to
be tied in with Mr. Solo's assignment.

Try to look like a banker.

Herr Toeffler?

Solo?

I was supposed you have
been contacted by Mr. Zwingli.

Yes, well, he was indisposed.
I was sent in his place.

May I see your
credentials, please?

Of course.

Your credentials are acceptable,
but your arrangements are not.

Our contact person was to meet
us here precisely at noon, Mr. Solo.

It is now seven after.

Punctuality is the blood
and gristle of our business.

- Sorry.
- Oh, Mr. Toeffler?

Oh, Mr. Toeffler, how do you do?

I'm Margo Hayward, I
was sent to meet you.

Miss Hayward, this is Mr. Solo
of our American branch.

- How do you do?
- How do you do?

Would you care to join me? Our
car is waiting to take us to the plant.

Why, I'd be
delighted to. Mr. Solo?

Certainly.

All right, Distil,
you may seal up.

What is this? What's going on?

Security measures, Mr. Toeffler.

Are you sure this is the place?

Muriel would rather go out on a
Saturday night with her hair in rollers...

than miss an appointment
with her fortune teller.

And she never came back?

No, that's the last
I saw her, until...

- Until this morning...
- Ooh.

Have I got a heartburn
you wouldn't believe.

Madame Hecubah?

The past, the
present, the future.

I know the truth frontwards,
backwards and heretofore.

Sit down.

We're looking for a friend of
ours. Been missing for quite a while.

- She was last seen in...
- What is this, a bust?

I'm clean.

I told that creep to
take his hot radio parts...

and sell them to Waldo
down the next block.

You can put your mind at ease.

- We're not from the police.
- Honest.

This ain't a shuck?

- Mm-mm.
- No.

That will be a finif, 5 bucks.

- What?
- I'm telling you the past, ain't I?

Now, she's leaving here, see,
and I hears this screech of a truck.

I goes to look.

She must have stepped
right out in front of the thing...

because, ooh, it
bounced her good.

- She was killed?
- No, uh-uh.

I guess not. An ambulance
came and got her.

That would've been reported
to you, wouldn't it, Andy?

- Not if she didn't have no ID.
- How did you know she didn't?

Just a guess.

You appropriated
her purse, didn't you?

This is a very precarious
living, reading the stars and stuff.

What hospital, you old shrike?

Eh...

I'm a fortune teller. I'm
not supposed to be reliable.

Terribly sorry, gentlemen,
but I must subject you...

to still another inconvenience.

Oh, this is intolerable,
mademoiselle.

In the car for four hours without an
idea where we're going, and now this.

I'm certain Miss Hayward
has her reasons, Mr. Toeffler.

Why, Mr. Solo is
very perceptive.

Our project head, Mr. Lash.

The most profuse apologies for
the melodramatics, gentlemen.

Please be seated.

You see, what we
have here is a ripe plum.

Mm, well, just what is
this new project, Mr. Lash?

My firm intends to free human
beings from ever again having to work...

on a production line.

I gather you have developed
some new assembly-line principle.

On the contrary, Mr. Toeffler.

It's a completely new
concept of automation.

The use of, uh, shall
we say, artificial humans.

Artificial humans?

But if I had known this...

There is nothing of the crackpot
about this concept, Mr. Toeffler.

We've been in experiment with
our Model A-77 for almost two years.

The results have been
compiled in a brief...

which I'm sure you'll
find most enlightening.

Call Denise.

The matter seems a little more
complicated than we had anticipated.

What you're after, then, is not
funds for further experimentation?

Exactly, Mr. Solo.

The experimentation
is virtually concluded.

My company wishes to
start production immediately.

Uh, precisely what amount
are you seeking from my bank?

A billion dollars, Mr. Toeffler.

A mere billion dollars.

Something wrong, Mr. Solo?

Ahem, no, no, no, I...

I just sometimes get unnerved
when I see pretty ladies.

A billion dollars?

You can do this?
Artificial people?

Not only production-line
personnel, Mr. Toeffler...

but maids, gardeners,
street cleaners.

Just think of the potential.

Inexpensive and indestructible.

Slaves that would simply be
programmed to do your bidding.

Think. The day of
Aladdin's lamp is upon us.

A brilliant conception.

Man could at last be a
creature of true leisure.

But they could also be made
to serve as, say, soldiers?

Hmm, no, no, no, we
must remain strictly neutral.

We'd never consent to
that use for our A-77s.

Hmm, but they could be
reprogrammed, couldn't they?

Well, of course, that's possible, but
who would be so imprudent as to do it?

The thought is ridiculous.

Hundreds of thousands
of walking slaves...

indestructible, armed, and
marching, marching, marching...

sweeping everything before them.

Taking a country in 29 days.

Invincible.

Not bullets nor bombs
nor tanks could stop them.

Mindless, soulless
soldiers of an army so vast...

would blacken the land with its
marching, marching, marching.

Of course, we only
wish to serve mankind.

What a marvelous conception.

But of course, uh, only commercial
uses could be considered in this loan.

And we are neutral...

Ahh, how can we be certain that
this project is far enough advanced...

to guarantee a
loan of this size?

But of course, you
need a demonstration.

Denise?

The bar, please.

Hydrofluoric acid, gentlemen.

Please, drink their
health, Denise.

Oh, no, no, no, dear me.

What response from Mr. Solo?

Message reads, "Cat's in the
bucket, bucket's in the well."

We received that just before he
entered the Thrush limousine...

then all transmission went dead.

Have we been able to
triangulate a location of any kind?

They have it jammed
completely, sir.

Nothing from any
of our stations?

South America? Europe? Nothing?

Wherever their base is, sir,
they've damped it effectively.

They could be anywhere.

What was that message again?

"Cat's in the bucket,
bucket's in the well."

Well, well, well.

Now, gentlemen, I'll show you
the inner heart of our project.

You're a spendthrift,
Dr. Pertwee.

I am, uh, um, um, a genius.

Now stop annoying me.

I was hired to cut down on
these ridiculous expenditures.

I am not annoying you.

It says very little for the
efficiency of your operation.

Ninety-seven percent of our project
is within three decimal places...

of top-point efficiency.

What of the remaining
three percent?

Oh, Mr. Lash.

Oop. Ha, ha.

Hello, I'm Pertwee.

Well, it's a pleasure to meet
you, Pertwee. Are you all right?

- All right?
- Yes.

Oh, yes, it certainly is.

- Nice meeting you. Goodbye.
- Uh-huh.

That is the head of the project?

He is a genius.

Anybody home?

Kind of eerie.

Why would the hospital
send Muriel here?

Well, they said it was at the
request of one of their pathologists...

a, uh, "Dr. Ansel Pertwee."

This is his private clinic.

But the whole thing
smells very fishy to me.

Well, you know, I
feel like one of the

all-time great finks
of the western world...

worrying about a phone bill.

And poor Muriel.

And I was beginning to wonder if
there was anything behind that, uh...

pretty face.

Well, being a symbol of
the consumer culture, I...

I sometimes forget
to be a human being.

Good afternoon, this
is Dr. Pertwee's office.

As, um, a matter of fact,
this is Dr. Pertwee speaking.

I am out right now.

But if you will, uh, recite your
message into your telephone...

it will be recorded.

Please, uh, uh, wait for a beep
tone, and then begin to speak.

You know, I've always...

You better call U.N.C.L.E.

I can't. The line's busy.

This is the supply room.

We use that area to store
our replacement parts.

I would like to see the
Accounting Department.

- Ow.
- My pleasure.

- Is something the matter, Mr. Solo?
- Uh, yeah, I got a pebble in my shoe.

Will you excuse me for a moment?

- Of course.
- Unh.

Open Channel D.

Control, this is
Sheep's Clothing.

Come in, Control.

Open Channel D.

Jammed.

How about Channel F? Is there
anything new on Channel F?

Not much, what's new with you?

Illya, is that you? What
are you doing on Channel F?

Don't be presumptuous.
You called me.

Where are you?

I'm tied up right now.

I get the feeling you're
not telling me everything.

Well, Miss Francis and I were
detained by the Thrush welcome wagon.

Ah, you've been captured.

It's amazing how you grasp the
picture with such unerring clarity.

Well, I'm all jammed up here.

I can't get through to
Waverly, but I can get to you.

We must be inside the
same jamming umbrella.

For all I know, we might
be under the same roof.

What's it look like
where you are?

Frankly, it looks like a slow,
unpleasant end to an outstanding career.

Well, I'd like to help you out, but
I've got problems of my own right now.

Can you get out of wherever
you are, get through to Waverly?

Nothing would please me better.

All right, keep in touch.

And thank your mother
for the chicken soup.

- Z?
- Solo, there you are.

What took you so long?

Well, it was a bigger,
uh, pebble than I thought.

Did I miss anything?

Well, actually, nothing.

Mr. Lash had
something to attend to...

and Mr. Toeffler's in the
Accounting Department.

- Ah.
- But I'm all yours.

Oh, that's more
than I can hope for.

Uh, tell me something. Uh,
this gizmo here, what is it?

Well, these
multiple-phase selectors...

pick the most advantageous
combinations of malleable factors...

working on a thermocouple
principle of analogue differentiation.

- Ah.
- On a one-to-one variant, of course.

Of course, naturally.

Side errors in chromosome translation
are warped through that bank...

of digital analyzers over there.

Same retention index as in a
simple log-log desatrig duplex slide.

That's what I like about you,
Ms. Hayward. A women of system.

Business-like,
orderly, disciplined.

A keen sharp mind in
a soft voluptuous body.

Why, Mr. Solo, I thought bankers
only dealt with one kind of figure.

Hmm. How little
you know, my dear.

Excuse me, this
needs some adjustment.

If you'll, uh, forgive me, that
correction you just made is a trifle off.

It should've been to the 40th
power instead of the fourth...

if you'll forgive
my impertinence.

Why, you're right.

Ah, Mr. Solo, you're
right, I made a miscalc.

Well, that's my
first in many years.

You're taking my
mind off my work.

By looking at it dispassionately, do
you suppose it could possibly be...

because I'm attracted to you?

I think that's just possible,
and if that is the case...

I want you to know
that the feeling is mutual.

- Mr. Solo.
- Hmm?

You see, I work in a very
lonely and restricted field.

Mm-hm.

- Romance is not common with us.
- Mm-hm.

My relations with men
are strictly business.

Well, would that ours could
be a little more than that?

Oh, Mr. Solo.

- Call me Nappy.
- Heh.

How did you come to join Thrush?

How could you possibly have known
that? There's no way you could've known.

Margo, I have aspirations also.

Do you think I wanna be a
white-collar worker all my life?

An appraiser for foreign
banks, a toady for totalers?

I want more than that.

I've been watching,
waiting for something big.

A large rock to help me
across the bigger pond.

You've known all along
this was a Thrush operation?

Yes, and I've always
wanted to join Thrush.

Now that I met you, I
can't wait any longer.

Oh, Napoleon Solo,
you want to join Thrush?

- Yes.
- Unh.

I understand.

But what can you
offer Thrush, Mr. Solo?

Mm, initially, I can perhaps
help convince Toeffler...

to grant you a loan.

- Ah.
- He respects my opinion.

He need not ever know that this
project is for an invincible army...

of tacked-together soldiers.

Subject to a thorough
check of your past, Mr. Solo...

let me welcome you to Thrush.

Now if you'll just
to Mr. Toeffler.

My pleasure.

What do you think
they're gonna do with us?

That's their problem.

Our problem is to get
out of this little mousetrap.

Heh, heh. Don't be silly,
we're completely helpless.

I was beginning to
think you hadn't noticed.

If only I had
something I could use.

I've got a gun.

- You do?
- Mm-hm, it's in my pocket.

Then give it to me.

All right, you two.

Open the gate, or I'll
spatter you all over the walls.

Are you crazy? That's just
a prop, it's just a toy gun.

Come on, we haven't got all day.

It's not supposed
to be this easy.

You've made a financially
brilliant decision, Mr. Toeffler.

Well, I must confess, I had my
reservations until Mr. Solo spoke to me.

I suggest you get
Mr. Toeffler to a telephone.

Have him advise his bank to get that
money to you before he changes his mind.

Yeah. LASH: Ha-ha-ha.

Well, unfortunately, we have only one
way of communicating from this location.

By wireless. We'll have to take
Mr. Toeffler up to the communicating room.

Uh, perhaps I could speak
to Zurich for you, hmm?

Excellent. Mr. Lash and I can discuss
his specific terms while you tend to it.

Take Mr. Solo up to the
tower, unjam the frequency.

Will you excuse me for a moment?
There's something I must see to.

Of course.

Find them.

I don't care if they're dead
or alive, but find those two.

Don't move or
I'll have to kill you.

I knew Mr. Lash
was unhappy with me.

But sending, uh, assassins
to kill me is in very poor taste.

I beg your pardon, sir,
but we're not assassins.

- Who are you?
- Dr. Ansel Pertwee.

Muriel. He's the
one who killed Muriel.

Muriel? Killed Mu...?

No, no, honestly.

She was quite dead when
they brought her in to me.

I only used her face because
it was such a lovely face.

So right for my base model.

Oh.

And what did you expect to
achieve with your creation?

Good. Nothing but good things.

I wanted to free men from the...

The drudgery of the assembly
line, give them back their souls.

I don't know how much you
know about Thrush, doctor...

but they're not in the habit
of giving men back their souls.

Well, what else
would they want to do?

Turn your models
into assassins, doctor.

- No.
- Instruments of war.

What a pity that history
will label Dr. Ansel Pertwee...

as the man who
streamlined slaughter.

No.

Not "no," doctor,
the word is "yes."

What can I do?

You know where the
jamming controls are.

You can start by helping
us get a message out of here.

Okay.

- Okay.
- Okay.

Hmm.

Well, that looks like, uh...

Manhattan. It is.

I see.

All round the mulberry bush,
right back where you started.

Right again.

And would you unjam, uh, for
Zurich so I can make my call?

Now, just give them the message.

They'll relay it
through Thrush Central.

All right.

Let me write this down so I have it
right when you get transmission started.

All right, go ahead.

Recognition code is as follows:

"William Tell's tale is told.

Toeffler approves
$1 billion loan...

final negotiations under
way at this moment."

Uh, "You may begin preparations
for the underwriting of funds.

Signed, Toeffler
and Napoleon Solo."

Are you finished?

- You better go.
- Oh.

Not yet. No, no, I'm
not quite finished.

Impetuous boy.

I know, but I can't
contain myself any longer.

You see, I have a bright blue
flame that's burning for you.

Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.

Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.

- Wait.
- Wait for what, Napoleon?

Huh? What?

Yeah, yeah.

Signal frequency
from Mr. Solo, sir.

Can you triangulate?

If the channel stays
unjammed long enough.

How do I love thee?

Let me count the ways.

No Computations now,
please, Napoleon. Ha, ha.

He used the same
miserable line on me.

Triangulation, Miss Townsend,
not alienation of affections.

Sorry, sir.

Mm.

Your eyes are like two
black Babylonian pearls.

And your smile...

is like the smile of a sphinx.

Beast.

Miss Townsend, feed that
through the computer, not out here.

Hmm? MARGO: Feel...

- tingly all over.
- Mm.

Drink to me only with thine...

Mr. Solo, what are
you doing here?

Sorry to intrude, but
this is an emergency.

Where is the jamming control?

You beast, you're
from U.N.C.L.E.

Mr. Lash, Mr. Lash, I
made a terrible mistake.

- Everybody on the bed.
- Why?

Don't question it, just do it.

After them!

What's going on? Oh, no.

Mr. Lash, Mr. Lash, you
promised. Please, I beg of you.

The channel went dead,
but we had a fix, Mr. Waverly.

Where are they?

New York. They're
six blocks from here.

Solo, what are you doing here?

Neutral. We must remain neutral.

- Ugh.
- Stop.

Solo, I'm neutral.

Mr. Lash... LASH: Unh.

Oh, oh, I can't stand it. Oh.

What's going on? No.

I got them where I want
them, caught in the lab.

Seal all doors.
Clear the corridors.

Go on, go on.

I'm turning loose the A-77s.

And they're not programmed to
distinguish between friend or foe.

I forgot to ask, where
did you come from, hmm?

I came up from the
bargain basement.

The name of the game, friends,
is Unhinge the U.N.C.L.E. Man.

Come on.

Illya, get him.

He's controlling
them from up there.

What are you doing up there?

Illya! Illya!

It's no use, Napoleon.
I can't stop them.

Illya, the door!

Can't you do something,
doctor? They're your inventions.

I'll try. Outside.

Look here, Solo,
I'm strictly neutral.

Oh, no.

Oh...

Oh, I... I can't stand it. Look.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Unh.

I see we lost him.

Like Dr. Frankenstein, the
victim of his own creation.

Well, gentlemen.

It seems you've been able to settle
matters by yourselves once again.

I don't know who you are, sir...

but I wish to lodge a
most emphatic protest.

Oh, you're
Mr. Toeffler, I take it.

Oh, my apologies, Mr. Toeffler.

But I assure you that any
discomfort you may have suffered...

was in a truly noble cause.

As for you, Mr. Solo,
it was very ingenious...

the way you managed
to keep the channel open.

But, uh, if the circumstances
should ever arise again...

may I suggest that you play your
love scenes with a bit less ardor.

Has a very disconcerting
effect on our female employees.

Get somebody to
clean up that mess.

Okay, Andy, yeah,
yeah, that's good.

Okay, now, yeah,
look towards. That's it.

Okay, Andy, make
this real good, huh?

Look... Look real irresistible, you
know, so if any man sees you...

he'll... He'll just grab you.

Yeah, that's it.