All language subtitles for Fay-Grim-2006-BRRip-x264-ION10-XviD-XVID-English

Fay?

Are you okay?

I'm afraid.

Why?

Has something happened?

I'm afraid for my son.

He's 14.

Boys have been known
to survive that, Fay.

I'm afraid
he'll grow up to be...

Well, like his father.

I know, I know
what you're thinking.

Forgive the man.
Nobody's perfect.

But I go forgive him.

I always did.

That's my problem.

I mean, like,
who was Henry anyway?

We lived together
for seven years.

Had a child, shared a home,

and I don't even know
where he came from.

You must miss him
very much, I think.

Excuse me.

Hi, it's Fay.

Principal:
Fay.

Thank you for coming.

This is the end
of the line for you, Mister.

- But, Mom...
- Sit up straight.

Principal:
Let's step inside.

Ned brought this pornographic
device to school today

and was caught showing it off
to the other children.

What is it?

See for yourself.

Ma, you gotta turn it on.

Where?

You have to crank
the thing on the side.

Wow...

Ned:
That's cool, huh?

Where did you get this?

It came in the mail.

- Whose mail?
- Our mail.

Since when do you open the mail?

Ned:
It was addressed to me.

Well, then who sent it to you?

I don't know.
There was no return address

or letter or anything.

It's an orgy.

Yeah, I know that, Ned.

Fay, where he got it
is not the issue.

The point is he can't bring

this sort of thing
into the school.

You're grounded like... forever.

Come on, let's go.

Fay... Can I have a word
with you in private?

Principal:
It's no secret in this school,

or in this town, of course,

that Ned's father
was no model citizen.

Tell me about it.

I took back my maiden name.

Principal:
Yes, your maiden name.

But it is also not lost
on your neighbors

or Ned's classmates

that his uncle, your brother,

is the notorious and controversial...

poet, Simon Grim.

Yes, we're very proud of Simon.

Fay, your bother is in
a state penitentiary.

So?

Well, he's hardly a role model.

Ned can't help
who his family is.

Fay...

Have you ever thought of moving
to a different town?

Hello.

- Good afternoon, Fay.
- Hi.

Mister James is expecting you.

Can I take these?

This way please.

Man:
Fay, hello, I'm Angus.

It's nice to meet you finally
after all these years.

You're not going to stop publishing
Simon's poetry are you?

What? No.

Those royalty checks are the only thing
we have to live on.

We just moved to a new home.

No, no, not at all.
Please, Fay, no.

Simon's been a gold mine.

I'd be insane to drop him.

And don't you worry about
those royalty checks.

Ohh...

And if I may say so,
I consider Simon my friend.

Oh, yeah, okay.

Nevertheless...

And you might be surprised
to hear this, Fay.

Iconoclastic avant-garde
poetry of the kind

your brother's
come to personify.

This marginal yet vital form
of artistic expression,

it is becoming less and less popular
in America.

Oh, no, really?

Yes, but I have an idea.

Fay, are you aware
that I once read

your husband's book,
his "Confessions"?

Yes, Simon tried to get
you to publish them.

That's right, he did.

And I decided against it,

even though Simon threatened
to renege on our deal

to publish his own poetry.

I remember.

It was a trying time.

To be perfectly frank, Fay,

I must tell you, I thought
Henry's book was quite bad.

- Simon thought so too.
- Yes, he did.

Nevertheless...

Since your brother's trial
five years ago,

things have changed.

Simon, you're being charged with

the willful obstruction of justice.

Aiding and abetting
a known criminal,

falsifying official documents.

Why would a world-famous poet,

a literary celebrity,

stoop to help a man of such
negligible redeeming value

and at such a cost to his
own reputation and livelihood?

He was my friend.

Or was it what he was carrying

was more valuable in your eyes

than the pursuit of justice!

What was he carrying, Simon?

What did Henry Fool
have with him

as he boarded that flight
to Sweden

pretending to be you.

His book.

His "Confessions."
Eight or so notebooks.

And some extra shirts.

As a result of all this,

Simon Grim fans the world over,

as well as his most fierce
and dedicated detractors,

have seized upon this mysterious friend,
Henry Fool

and his fabled "Confessions"
as an essential key

to the deeper understanding
of the incarcerated

garbage man poet
of Woodside, Queens.

It's been great for business.

But, you see,
it won't last forever.

Henry is larger than life now.

And his "Confessions",

a desperately sought
after commodity now.

The time to strike is now.

We have got to get our hands
on those books and publish them.

But they're bad, right?

Not worth publishing.

You said so yourself.

Well, we can't be too hard-line
about these things, Fay.

Anything capable of being sold

can be worth publishing.

You haven't...
I mean...

Henry hasn't...

Well, you know...

Been in contact with you,
has he?

- No.
- I'm sorry.

It's okay.

I realize you must,
well, miss the man.

I hope I never see him again.

Really... I mean it.

I'm single...

Sort of.

I was wondering...

Yeah?

Well, I was wondering
if perhaps...

I was wondering if you'd
care to have dinner

with me some night this week?

You mean, like, you know...

A date?

I'm afraid so.

Agent Fulbright, CIA.

This is Agent Fogg,

- but you can call him Carl.
- Hi.

How did you get in here?

We're professionals, Fay.

They teach us stuff like that,
at the Academy.

Fay, we'd like to ask you some questions
about your husband.

When will this end?

How long are you
going to harass me?

I have no idea
where my husband is.

I'm single... sort of.

Yeah, we know, but, uh...

The case is still open

and new evidence has arisen.

Evidence of what?

Fay, where were you when Henry

boarded that plane for Sweden?

At home, I didn't
go to the airport.

Only my brother
Simon was with him.

We went over all
this during the trial.

But Simon didn't actually see him board
the plane, did he?

Your brother last saw Henry

at the departure gate,
having already by then

successfully forged documents
permitting him

to leave the country
under a false identity.

Well, yeah, but so what?

Well so, maybe he never
got on the plane.

Why wouldn't he have
gotten on the plane?

He was in trouble.
He was running away.

That was the whole point.

Last minute pangs of conscience?

Conscience? Henry?
Please.

He may have suddenly
felt full force

the love that he had
for you, his son,

his friends, the community.

Easy, Carl.

Henry would have
gotten on that plane.

And, anyway, if you ask me,

its what he should have done.

Fay, he killed a man.

It was an accident.
He was defending himself.

The man he killed was gross.

Do you really have so little faith
in society?

I mean, why are you so certain that
Henry wouldn't have been exonerated?

Carl, enough, Fay... look.

It appears that Henry
boarded the plane

posing as your brother Simon.

But he didn't get off the plane
in Stockholm.

Which makes us think that he had
an accomplice at the airport.

You mean, besides Simon?

Does the name Konchalovsky
mean anything to you?

- No.
- Bebe?

Bebe Konchalovsky?

We understand that
Henry kept a diary,

some kind of journal,
many volumes.

What he referred to
as his "Confessions".

Yeah, so?

Did you ever read this book?
These, uh, confessions?

A little, once.
By accident.

Could you tell us about
what you've read?

I'd rather not.

Was it, uh, treasonous?

Did it seem to discuss subjects
potentially dangerous

to the security of the United States
of America?

I just read the dirty parts.

The... dirty parts?

You get that, Carl?

- Got it.
- What are you saying,

that Henry was some sort of a spy?

Or worse.

Look, Fay...

What?

Fay, Henry's dead.

Ma, you okay?

Yeah.

Did you eat?

I'll make something.

What time is it?
Where have you been?

It's 7:30.

I was at the library.
Didn't they call you?

Who?

The school.

I had my cell phone turned off.

Why? What happened now?

I've been expelled.

Ma?

Ma, you okay?

Go eat.

Don't do anything...
drastic.

Like what?
Drown myself

because you've been expelled
from school?

Go away and leave me alone.

Conceited little monster.

Then after all that,

the school calls and tells me

that Ned's been
caught getting a blow job

from these two 16-year-old girls

right down the hall
from the Principal's office.

Now he's expelled.

Wait a minute, back up.

They actually said Henry's dead?

When?
Where?

Berlin, Germany.

Two days after he ran away.

And you believe them?

They're the CIA, Simon.

The Government of
the United States Of America.

God, get with it.

Do you have the
package from Angus?

They think there was an accomplice
at the airport.

- Besides me?
- Yeah.

There was no accomplice
at the airport.

But you didn't actually see him
get on the plane, did you?

Well, no, not exactly, but...

Why wouldn't he have
gotten on the plane?

He was running away.
That was the whole point.

Maybe he had, you know,
second thoughts.

Maybe he felt all
at once the, uh...

The, uh...

What?

Forget it.

Simon, you gotta
get out of jail.

I can't handle
all this on my own.

Ned needs a father
figure or something.

What do you want
me to do, escape?

You might be eligible for early parole

on account of your good behavior.
Ask.

I won't be eligible
for another couple of years.

We can't wait that long.

They'll send Ned
to reform school.

He'll be in prison
before he's old enough

to get a driver's license.

Look, if you need anything
at all, just ask Angus.

She's got a date with him.

What?

He's taking her to the theater
for supper and stuff.

Calls her all the time.

Evaporate.

See you later.

You're dating my publisher?

You got a problem with that?

Angus voiceover:
Simon.

I spent a lot of time and money

tracking this book down.

I'm fairly certain
it is book six

of Henry Fool's "Confession."

If it's for real,
keep it with you.

It's safer there.

I'm beginning to think
your suspicions are correct.

I chose not
to tell Fay everything.

Perhaps the less she knows
the safer she'll be.

We'll talk soon.

Yours, etcetera, Angus.

I want Simon
released from prison.

That's not as easy
as it sounds, Fay.

The Governor's gonna kick and scream

if the feds try to negotiate
his release.

You understand, don't you, Carl?

I mean, he is up
for parole soon.

Years from now, forget it.

Carl, go take a walk
in the rain.

Bye, Carl.

Leave him alone.

He likes me.

That's his problem.

I won't cooperate unless Simon
is released from prison.

Okay, we'll see what we can
do about your brother.

But I'm not promising anything.

Now, will you do it or not?

What do you want
me to do, exactly?

I mean, what's this all about?

That's not how it works, Fay.

We tell you just enough
for you to complete your mission.

Then, if all goes well and
we decide to move on, we tell you more.

It's called plausible deniability, Mom.

Why isn't this kid at school?

- Ned, go upstairs.
- I'm hungry.

Here, go, uh...

Buy yourself a pizza, scram.

The French Secret Service have
two books of Henry's "Confession."

Really? Where'd they get them?

They were found in the possession
of a notorious drug smuggler

who swears he got them
from Bebe Konchalovsky.

And who is that?

Nobody knows for sure.
A terrorist.

Wanted by the Russians,
the Israelis,

the French, and us.

What would terrorists want
with Henry's notebooks?

What would anybody want
with Henry's notebooks?

Got me.

The books contain information
that the French could use

to blackmail the United States.

With what?

Who cares with what?
Besides, it's classified.

Fulbright, Henry
was a garbage man.

Yeah, for five years here
in Woodside, Queens,

he was a garbage man.

And?

So, what the hell was he doing in
Afghanistan in 1989, for instance?

- What?
- We have evidence Fay, witnesses.

Luckily we got some, uh,
bad dope on the French

at the moment which
might urge them

to back off if we get compromised.

Really? Then what
do you need me for?

The French are in a tight spot.

The German's, the Belgians,
the Israelis, China...

Nobody wants the French to hand
over those books to the U.S.

However, there's a treaty,
an old one,

a loophole in that treaty
which prevents

the French government
from impounding

an American citizen's property

under certain narrowly defined
conditions

which we've recently
had broadened due to the current

unstable international
terrorist situation, etcetera.

So, since books written by Henry,
and that you're Henry's widow,

the books obviously
belong to you.

The French will take a lot of crap
from the European Union

for a week or two, but then so what.

Believe me, Fay,
this is critical.

And you're the only one
who can do what needs to be done.

I want Simon
released from prison.

I think it's real.

Are you sure?

Angus, has it ever
occurred to you

that, perhaps, Henry's "Confessions"

were simply too completely
awful to be true?

You mean as in bad?

- Inept.
- Idiotic?

- Right.
- Oh yes,

that was my first impression,
certainly.

Try to remember what you read.

Try to peel away the layers of
masturbatory self-indulgence.

The ego-maniacal rant,

the paranoid obsessions,
the sexual preoccupation.

Would there be anything left?

Look over my left shoulder.

There's a prisoner down
the row reading a book.

Yeah, I see him.

His name is Herzog.

He used to work for the CIA.

He was what they called...

an encryption specialist.

He invented codes.

Go talk to him.

Ask him about

Operation Inferno.

He's expecting you.

I was the chief attaché
to the U.S. operative in...

Bitch!

in a certain
South American country

during it's first free
and open elections.

Put that thing down.

Ned look, if I do this thing
for them in Paris,

they're gonna get
Uncle Simon out of jail.

No way.

Yes way.

And besides it will give me
an opportunity

to wear this nice coat
that Angus got me.

Did your father ever tell you...

unusual bedtime stories
when I wasn't around.

Sure, all the time.

What were they about?

About the places he had been to.

Things he got away with.

Those were the best ones.

Like what things?

He told me not to tell you.

Come on, Ned, I mean it.

I promised.

You were five years old.

He had no right to make you
promise anything.

But I did.

Do we have, like, a map
of the world or something?

Where's Afghanistan?

There.

Did your father ever tell
you about Afghanistan?

Yeah.

Really?

Sure.

See, the mountains, here,
leading up to the Hindu Kush,

across the Himalayas,
then on to Tibet.

He said he'd been there, too?

He'd been everywhere.

See Jerusalem here, Mecca,

Iraq, Rome, Vatican City.

The Pope threw
a chair at him once.

Okay, stop, that's enough.

Do you believe them?

Who?

Fulbright.

You believe Dad's dead?

Hello?

He was shot in the street,
returning to the office.

He'll be OK, they think.

He was very lucky.
But he's raving.

They're getting ready
to operate now.

- Angus!
- Fay, thank God!

Milla, get my trousers.
Let's get out of here!

Angus, cool it,
you've been shot.

- Calm down.
- Listen, Fay, think!

You, Simon, and myself
are the only people

who've ever read
the "Confessions".

You think you've been shot

because you've read
Henry's notebooks?

Yes, isn't it obvious?

No, it isn't.

Look, Fay...

I found one of Henry's books,

and I had you
smuggle it into Simon.

He's right, Henry was in
South America in the '70s.

That's impossible.

He was an eye witness to
the overthrow of governments there.

He mentions Fulbright
by name, twice.

- And there's more.
- Sorry, miss,

we've got to get him
into surgery right away.

Fay, I'm sorry.

Someone knows we have that book
and they will kill to get it!

When you disembark at Paris,

go directly to the ladies room.

Before you clear customs.

It'll be on your left
as you enter the terminal.

The operative
will establish contact.

How?

Impossible to say.

Check the time before you
enter the ladies room.

Wait only 5 minutes.

If contact isn't established
in five minutes, abort.

If these guys don't
get Uncle Simon

out of jail by 6:00
this evening,

call me right away at the hotel
and leave a message.

Okay.

You've got the number, right?

- Yeah, yeah.
- Okay.

You don't fly much do you?

I do, often.

It will be over in no time.

My name is Andre.

- Fay.
- Enchanted.

What's this?

Angus bought Mom a new couch.

Come on, check out
my new computer.

Simon, what are you
doing out of jail?

What are you doing
out of the hospital?

I'm a sitting duck
in the hospital, Simon.

Someone's trying to kill me,
haven't you heard?

You'd be safer in jail, too.

Where's Fay?

She cut a deal with the Feds.

She's on her way to Paris
to retrieve two of Henry's books.

How could you let her do that?

I didn't know until an hour ago.

She negotiated for my release.

Here, take a look at this.

It came in the mail.

Wow.

- It's an orgy.
- It sure is.

You see, it was not
so bad after all.

Thanks so much.
I really enjoyed myself.

I am in Paris for the week.

- Perhaps I can see you again?
- Sure, okay.

Welcome home, Simon.

Thank you, Father.

Sorry to get you
out of bed so early.

We need your help.

You have to look into it
and turn the crank.

Sorry...

But we need to know about
the writing on the wall

behind the three people,
you know, on the...

Yes, on the wall behind
the two girls with the goat.

We thought it might be Latin.

Old, ancient.

Hebrew maybe.

Semitic, certainly.

No, Slovak.

I can't tell really with all
the foreground debauchery.

Why is this important?

We think Henry
might have sent it.

They told Fay he was dead.

And offered no proof,
just hearsay.

A rumor off the internet.

Why would they deceive her?

Because the only way they
can get those books

away from the French
is if Fay is a widow.

The French?

What have the French
got to do with it?

And which books?

Simon, what's going on?

We think Fay's been roped
in to some kind of

international espionage, Father.

By whom? And why?

I was mistaken
about Henry's book

when I read it seven years ago.

It was not what
I thought it was.

Woman:
Keep this phone with you.

Clear customs,
retrieve your luggage

and meet Monsieur Picard
and his people

from the Ministry Of Security

just outside the baggage claim.

I will be in touch.

Father...
this is book six.

Simon's fellow inmate, Herzog,
claims that in 1973,

Henry was taught a basic but now
outdated CIA encrypting method

by one of his associates

probably this guy Fulbright.

You mean, it's code.

Sort of.

An old-fashioned technique
of composing sentences

in some sort of consistent
but obscure relationship

to a pre-existing text.

Whereas in the original text,

what's called the concordance,

there is a noun.

In the new communiqué
there is a verb.

Likewise, the placement
of adverbs

and adjectives are reversed.

The result is usually gibberish.

Well, you've both read it.

Is that how you describe
Henry's "Confession"?

No, illogical, pedantic.
Contradictory.

But not gibberish.

Using this method,
only a certain type

of idiot savant
would be capable of constructing

an intelligible alternate meaning,

however crazy, for the length of,
say, a sentence or two.

Henry wrote eight volumes.

How do we begin?

We'll need this to start.

Milton's "Paradise Lost".

I believe it's the concordance.

Hello?

Woman:
Listen carefully.

At the Ministry Of Security,

the French will
give you two books.

In one of those books,
on the 17th page,

two paragraphs from the bottom,

there will be
a paragraph written

in blue ink rather than black.

The third sentence
of this paragraph

will be in quotations.

Do you understand me?

Uh-huh.

Repeat it for me.

Page 17, second paragraph
from the bottom in blue ink,

third sentence in quotations.

Good.

Afterwards, as you leave,

you will see a woman
on the staircase.

She will drop her pen and
lean down to pick it up.

If either one of the notebooks
have a paragraph

written in blue ink
on the 17th page

with the third sentence
in quotations,

hold the package containing them
in your left hand.

Otherwise, hold them
in your right.

Do you understand?

Yes.

Good.

And then what?

Keep this phone with you.

Turn off the ringer
and put it on vibrate.

Place the books
in the hotel safe.

Your work will be done.

What have you got, Ned?

I've created a program,

where when we type
in the "Confession",

the computer translates all the nouns
and verbs and everything.

As long as it can
recognize the concordance.

That means we'll have to type in

all of "Paradise Lost" too, won't we?
This could take days.

I found it online, Angus.

Now we just have to see
if we can download

and import it into Ned's program.

Oh, that's easy, let me see.

Ha!

My apologies,
but it's crucial I think.

I bet.

What is it, Rabbi,
can you read it?

The dame with the big caboose
is always in the way.

Hold it.

There it is.

I see it, but I can't read it.

It's not Hebrew.

Maybe it's Chinese.

That's a Roman alphabet, Rabbi.

I'm not so sure.

Father, you know,
I think this might be Arabic.

I'm happy to say they are not the words
of the prophet.

- But you can read it, right?
- Yes, I can.

But not because it's Arabic.
It's Turkish.

- No.
- Oh, yes.

Let me see that.

Am I wrong?

Well... no.

Maybe.

It says...
How to translate?

Um... it's a complaint.

The truth teller...
It's much more than that.

The one who says what is...

will always be...

What? Um...

At odds with the world...
Against the grain.

An honest man
is always in trouble.

Yes, in fact, yes.

That is a rough,
but accurate translation.

Simon!

What is it?

"An honest man
is always in trouble."

That's the first line
of Henry's "Confession".

This is not just an orgy, Simon.

It's a harem.

Don't worry.

It's just a precaution.

Having just narrowly escaped
death by torture in Chile

during the overthrow
of the government there,

Henry surfaces in Nicaragua amazingly
and accidentally

as a double agent
for the Sandinistas

and the U.S. backed Contras.

Soon enough, he's wanted dead
or alive by both sides.

Pursued by, as he says,
the infernal "F"

whom I think we can take
to mean Agent Fulbright.

He crosses Honduras,
enters Belize,

and at the last possible minute

is given safe passage to Cuba

by some Hungarian Communists
who later claim

that Henry sold them information

about the Iran Contra guns
for hostages scandal.

Which later, here, in part seven,
Henry denies,

claiming he knew
nothing about it

and that the Hungarians were only

interested in his radical
reinterpretation

of Blake's "Marriage
Of Heaven And Hell"

and it seems certain of his chemistry
experiments.

For which reason, they promptly fly him
to Bucharest.

Thanks, Milla.

Henry was a chemist?

More to the point, Father,
how old a chemist was Henry?

He drank too much
and smoked constantly.

He slept little, ate badly,
and lived hard.

It's difficult to say but...

Henry could have been a ravaged man
in his early 30's,

or a well-preserved 50-year-old.

Didn't he have a driver's license,
Simon, or a passport?

Not that I know of.

Hold on.

Here it is,
their marriage certificate.

What's it say?

Husband's date of birth, 1591.

A common error.

Surely he means 1951.

That would make sense, right?

Barely, let me see that.

My American friend
has a reservation.

Miss Hopper.

Like the painter.

Oh, yes, Miss Hopper.

We have your luggage
already in your room.

May I ask you for
your passport, please?

May she place an item
in the hotel safe?

Bien sûr.

Are you all right?

Uh-huh.

I'm sorry about this, Fay.

I really am.

So, am I, like, you know,
a hostage or something?

This is your receipt...
Your passport.

This gentleman will show
you to your room.

Have a pleasant stay,
Miss Hopper.

You are not a hostage.

But you would not
be safe if anyone knew

that you were in Paris
with these books.

I wish we could have met under
different circumstances.

Me too.

Vous êtes...
extraordinaire.

Thanks.

Madame?

Yeah?

Where are you?

I don't know.

Another hotel.
Some other part of town.

Where are the books?

In the Hotel safe.
I have the receipt.

What's happening?

Don't worry, I'll find you.

Keep the phone on.

I can trace it.

Simon, it's me.

Fay...

You should not have done this.

I had to get you out of prison,
Simon, and see, it worked.

Now Ned can get home
schooling from a you

and I won't have to send
him to reform school.

Listen, Fay...

This Agent Fulbright has not been
telling you the truth.

I don't care.

I'm just so glad that you're
out of prison, Simon.

Fay... Henry's alive.

Fay?

Simon...

I'm sorry, I realize that...

I was just getting
used to the idea

that he was, you know...
dead.

He isn't.

How do you know that?
How can any of us know that?

This toy, this, um...

binocular thing that
came in the mail...

Hold on, there's
someone at the door.

Hello?

Fay, it's me.

Andre?

Fay, please, we must talk.

Hold on, Simon.

Simon, I gotta call you back.

No, Fay wait.

Your contact is an imposter.

Fulbright's been tricked.

You know about Fulbright?

I worked with him
in Afghanistan.

I was, in fact, a double agent
leaking his secrets to the Russians.

But he doesn't know that.

So what, you're, like,
a spy or something?

You sound disappointed.

I thought you liked me.

I do.

I do like you.

That's why I feel
I must warn you.

About what?

This woman who contacted you.

Her name is Juliet.

She's an agent of the
Israeli Secret Service.

And so, is that,
like, a bad thing?

Your husband seemed
to know a good deal

about global satellite
positioning systems.

Really?

Does that surprise you?

Each of those books
you read today,

when placed side by side

list the exact coordinates
of three U.S. satellites

over a ten-month period in 1994.

Towards the middle of each,
certain words are written in red ink.

That's right.

But she told me to look
for a blue paragraph on page 17.

With the third
sentence in quotations.

Right.

Proof that it's the wrong book,
a decoy.

And it's not, is it?

There was no blue paragraph
in either of them.

Now she knows they are real.

She will come for them.
You're in great danger.

What's the big deal about
these satellite coordinates anyway?

They indicate the location of
an Israeli nuclear missile base.

And that's, what, not allowed?

It's a violation of treaty?

- The missiles?
- And the satellites.

Look, I want to give you these.

Books one and two of your husband's
"Confession".

The Russian Secret Service extorted them

from the North Koreans.

Who were led to believe
they contained

instructions for scrambling

the radar for
American Spy planes.

Why are you doing this?

Convince your friend Angus James

to part with the volume
in his possession, book six.

We know he has it.

You shot Angus.

Not me, personally.

I'm sorry.

We needed to impress him.

Henry was working at a top secret
facility near Bucharest in 1988.

He disappeared driving a truck

carrying two tons of a poison

no one else in the world
even knows about yet.

- It's still missing.
- You're lying!

I knew the man.
I was married to him.

He was never in these places.

There was a scandal.
I don't know the details.

A girl, her mother,
the girl's cousin...

- Uh...
- Anyway...

Think about it.

Think about Angus.

We need book six.

You will go to the concierge
and present your receipt

for the item
you placed in the safe.

Once you have received the item,

we will cross the lobby
and enter the service staircase.

I will take the item and descend
o the parking garage.

You will continue to your room.

Do you understand?

Uh-huh.

There is a gun at your son's head
this very moment.

Pull yourself together.

Let's do this.

It'll be over in a minute.

Mademoiselle?

Oh, it's nothing, sorry.

A man was just run
over in the street.

I'd like the package
I put in the safe, please.

Shall I keep these?

Yeah, sure, whatever, thanks.

Well done.

Au revoir.

Now, don't get me wrong.
I like Americans.

I'll take the notebooks, please.

Drop the gun
and hand me the books.

Milla, how can this be?

I trusted you.

There will be no peace
before Israel

is safe within its borders.

All right, come on,
get her out of here.

Hello.

Hey, Ma, you won't believe
what just happened.

Carl just arrested Milla.

She was about to blow
my brains out.

Fay?

Fay?

Miss Hopper?

Ca va?

It's all right, Miss,
we'll take care of her.

- Sir.
- Picard?

He's been hit, looks bad.
He's on the way to the hospital.

The Arab kid's been wounded
and trapped in the alley.

Who gives a damn.
What about Konchalovsky?

- We lost her.
- Fuck!

They've apprehended the accomplice
back in New York.

Good, keep me informed.

Fulbright!

They were going to kill my son.

Fay, trust me,

we'd never have
let it go that far.

Oh!

What?

Look what they did to her face.

Is it bad?

It becomes you.

Don't you dare flirt
with me, Fulbright.

What happened in South America?

- What?
- And what's it got to do with Henry?

Who have you been talking to?

He mentions you by name, twice.

I thought that you hadn't
read the "Confessions".

Like I said, a little, once,
by accident.

Yeah, I remember.
Just the dirty parts?

He mentions you
in the dirty parts.

Why are you asking this?

Because I want to know
what's going on.

Oh, yeah, since when?

Since you've decided to use
me and my family as bait

for capturing some scary
chick in high heels.

Henry was an operative
of the CIA in Chile

during a time when it became necessary

for the United States
to help overthrow the government there.

Why?

Why what?

Why did we have to overthrow
the government?

It was inappropriate
to the needs of the American economy.

Hey!

Don't get all fuckin'
sensitive on me.

That, uh, coat you're wearing
was most likely made

by a bunch of seven-year-olds
in Kuala Lampur.

- Really?
- Damn straight.

And you don't see the Malaysians
going out and electing

- communist governments, right?
- Well, I don't know.

Exactly, you don't know.

Civilization, Fay...

Shit happens.

Henry, uh, had been a janitor

at the University in Santiago

with his eyes
on the chief librarian job.

We led him to believe
that we could help him with that.

That is, in exchange for information
that he could gather

from the school which was crawling
with Russian "advisors".

But aren't the Russian's
our friends now?

Nobody's our friend, Fay,
remember that.

Times change, alliances shift.

Something we were
proud of a year ago,

all of a sudden becomes something
we've got to apologize for

in front of the United fucking Nations.

Anyway, uh...
things went wrong.

Our contact
in the military assassinated

the president's top general

and we were forced to back him up
and instigate a civil war.

Henry disappeared in all that.

It seems he was captured

by the opposition and tortured,

forced to write a confession
which reliable sources

indicate ran to something
like 136 pages.

As far as we know,
laying out the details

of the entire U.S. espionage network
in South America.

They tortured him?

Are you listening to me?

He was so afraid of pain.

You mean to tell me that he never
let on to you about any of this?

Sometime he'd say things,
but, you know...

Henry said all sorts of stuff.

It was hard to know
what to believe.

Look, Fay...

I'm sorry that we had to use you
and Ned to draw fire.

But we've had Milla
pegged for months.

Nothing would've happened
to you or your son.

What about Angus?

Uh, okay, I admit,
that took us by surprise.

What we have to do now, though,
is figure out who exactly

Konchalovsky's working for?

- The Israelis, apparently
- Impossible.

Whatever, Fulbright.
It's your party after all.

Okay, uh...

Suppose you're right, uh...

How, how do you know this?

Andre told me.

Andre who?

You know,
Andre from Afghanistan.

He sat next to me on the plane.

Why didn't we know that?

- Sir?
- Get Washington on the line

and tell them Andre Soltani
was in New York yesterday afternoon.

- Right.
- Fuck!

- Relax.
- Will you see him again?

Maybe.

I underestimated you.

Imagine that.

What else did he tell you?

- Andre?
- Yeah.

He leaked your secrets
to the Russians

- back in Afghanistan.
- Yeah, well, I knew that.

I was feeding him
bad information anyway.

What else?

Sir.

This just in from Tel Aviv.

Milla's a runaway agent of
the Israeli Secret Service.

Suspected operative
of an ultra right wing

Zionist pressure group
out of Brooklyn.

It's all Greek to me, Fulbright.

I'm going home.

Anything on Andre Soltani?

He was killed 20 minutes ago,
three blocks from here.

Shot in the stomach
and hit by a car.

When does she fly home?

- First thing in the morning.
- Direct?

- Yes.
- Notify the authorities.

Have her detained when
she lands in New York.

- Suspected murder?
- No.

Espionage.

- Are you Bebe Konchalovsky?
- Yes.

I'm Bebe Konchalovsky.

And I'm in big trouble.

Come on, we gotta
get out of here.

He ruined me.

- Who did?
- Henry.

But I deserved it, I guess.

Fay, we are in love
with the same man.

Hey, I do not
love that man, okay?

It was all just a...

Besides, he's dead,
they said so.

They're lying.

And you are, too.

You wouldn't be here
if you thought he was dead.

You wouldn't be here
if you didn't love him.

He's alive,
and he needs our help.

He did unspeakable things to me.

I'm sure he did.

Why?

I stole them.

I stole the "Confessions".

I thought they
were the notebooks

of the famous Simon Grim.

Sir, you'll have
to stow your luggage

in the overhead compartments
or let me store them in back.

What's in them?

Books.

That's all he's taking with him to
Sweden, a bunch of books.

Asshole.

Bebe, he's Simon Grim.

You mean the poet?

He's getting the Nobel Prize.

I fell in love at once.

He told me everything.

How he wanted to be alone.

How he was misunderstood.

How for him,

fame has become such
a terrible burden.

A curse even.

He needed me to help
him find some peace.

We drove all night and made it
to Berlin the next day.

I was tired
of being a stewardess.

I knew some drug
dealers in Paris

who would buy the notebooks
of the famous Simon Grim.

Don't worry about him.

He cheated me.
He deserves worse.

I went to Hamburg
and got a regular job.

Oh, the things he did to me.

You cannot imagine.

I told him everything.

He forgave me.

And by then I loved him
impossibly anyway.

Is that crazy?

No.

Here, have another Napoleon.

Thank you.
I'm so hungry.

And I have a sweet tooth,
which of course you know,

it's not so good for
the figure of a stewardess.

And you never heard
from him again?

No.

And then those drug dealer
friends of mine

told everyone I'm some kind of spy
or something.

They think you're a terrorist.

Yeah, it's impossible.

I can't go anywhere
with my actual hair color.

Is Bebe Konchalovsky
your real name?

No.

My name is Olga.

But call me Bebe, it's prettier.

Fay, please don't let
this Juliet woman find me.

If she catches me, they'll send me back
to Chechnya.

She told the government,
I'm a spy

for the rebels there,
helping with weapons.

But that was only once.

I had no idea.

I'm not a spy,
I'm a stewardess, really.

Sometimes a topless dancer,
but really a stewardess.

I was trained.

Look...

Take this money.

Go to the airport tonight.

Get a room at the hotel there.

And meet me
at the information center

tomorrow morning
at 7:00 a.m., okay?

I knew you would be good.

I just knew it.

You are my idol.

Hello?

Simon, the world is a mess.

It's your mother.

I just want
a normal life, Simon.

A totally normal life.

That's impossible, Fay.

I know.

Fay, this toy that
arrived in the mail.

- There's...
- Simon?

We may not be, you know, alone.

If you know what I mean.

Carl, she's onto us.

The... party was wild.

Uh-huh.

Our friend was there.

Yeah? When?

On Thanksgiving.

The new couch arrived.

Oh, yeah?
How's it look?

Foreign.

Good night, Fay.

You gotta be kidding me.

Fay, help me, please.

Well, you see, that's what you get
for being a terrorist.

My arm is broken.

So is your leg, I think.

How'd you get away
from those guys?

I have a mission.
I must complete it.

Oh, shut up,
you can't even stand.

It must be set.

What?

I need your help.

I can walk with a stick.

You need my help setting
your arm, you mean?

Yes, please.

Why should I help you?

Okay, look...

You know how to do this?

You must pull my arm straight.

Then tie it to something
so that it...

that it is bent.

Right.

At the elbow.

I get it.

I saw this on TV.

You know, this is gonna hurt, right?

I am a soldier of God.

Oh, well, that's a relief.

Bite into this.

Hold onto something.

You are a good woman, Fay.

Thanks.

Someday, when this is all over,

and we have destroyed
Western civilization...

Ahh!

It's her... Juliet.

Fay, my life is worthless.

But don't allow her to have
these books, promise me.

Shh!

Shh!

Where are you hurt?

I was lucky.

It was just a flesh wound.

This is pretty bad.

I think we should
get you to a hospital.

I've had worse.

I'll do it myself.

Help me to the bathroom.

Sorry.

Sacrifices need
to be made occasionally.

Oh, yeah?
For what?

For a better world perhaps.

What kind of better
world is made

by shooting a 14-year-old
boy in the head?

Children are dying
all over the world, Fay.

Lift your leg.

Shit!

Don't think I'm inhuman, Fay.

Some dirty work
needs to be done.

Civilization ought
to thank those of us

who are willing to do it.

Why is it when someone
starts talking about

civilization I hear
the sound of machine guns?

You Americans are soft.

Still, I appreciate your help.

I just don't want you to die
in my hotel room.

I've got to sleep
in here tonight.

There, it's done.

Get out.

What happened to the porter?

- Huh?
- The Arab kid.

You were the last to see him.

He fell off the side
of the building.

Here.

I want you to have these.

Are they real?

Perhaps, who knows?

The Arab kid has what I need.

I seem to have
bled on your couch.

Actually, it's an ottoman.

You Americans, you know all about
home furnishings,

but have no clue what's happening
in the world around you.

I know I don't want
the killing to continue.

And you think that's generosity
of spirit, don't you?

I thought you liked Americans.

That's true.

It's said they can
be so easily used.

She's on her way.

I'll see you in New York.

- Where is she?
- We don't know.

I swear to God, Fulbright,
if you've lost Fay we'll cripple you.

It was me.

My bright idea.

To create a series
of convincing forgeries

of the confession that Henry
was supposed to have composed

for the interrogators
in Chile back in '73.

But the Russians caught on
and followed suit.

- And the British.
- So did the Chinese.

Pretty soon the Pakistanis
got hold of a German translation

of a British forgery and followed coded
instructions found within it

to build a nuclear bomb
that almost worked.

So you see, your Dad's masterpiece

is a collection of fakes

of a book that has never
itself been written.

A self-perpetuating literature
of obfuscation,

hearsay, rumor, innuendo,
and outright lies.

A bestseller for sure.

Settle down, you lunatics.

It's fucking psychological terrorism.

A kind of germ warfare
of the brain.

And we gotta get our hands
on whoever's orchestrating this.

Henry?

- Not necessarily.
- Who then?

Yesterday a freelance
Russian spy,

an Iranian named Andre Soltani

was found shot to death
on a Paris side street.

You think there's a connection?

Unfortunately, yes, I do.

Fay had been with him
earlier in the day.

So?

You got anything to drink?

Thank you.

The bungled coup
in South America

got me in all sorts of trouble

with the brass
back in Washington and...

Well, for my sins, I was sent
to the middle of nowhere.

Fulbright, we're not clear
on the American position.

Yeah, well, uh, neither am I.

So, I've got to get over
to the U.S. Embassy

in Pakistan and find out.
I'll be back in a few days.

There may very well be a new government
here when you return.

No, Andre, can I give you my own
personal estimation of things?

- Of course.
- When the present government collapses,

there will be no new government,
only chaos, unless...

- Unless what?
- You've got to organize the rebels.

Get somebody now
before the shit hits the fan,

who's, uh, reasonable.

And by reasonable
you mean someone

who will do whatever
the American's want him to do.

Yeah, well, maybe, why not?

Look, Fulbright,
there are reasonable men.

Even men who are not reasonable
but who will do whatever America wants.

But these are not the men
the people will listen to.

These are not the men the population
will follow.

Who will they follow?

Jallal Said Khan.

And who's he when he's at home?

A garbage man from Kandahar.

- He wrote this.
- What is it?

A sort of manifesto,
written under the guidance

of a foreigner
who is his closest adviser.

- Here in Kabul?
- No, in Herat.

The government had him imprisoned

for pornography as a result,

but I managed to get him released.

It is a powerful document and
has attracted many followers to him.

Hm, where is he now?

Jallal Said Khan?

In the north.

His group has been troublesome
for the Russians as they retreat.

Capturing weapons
and even some tanks, I hear.

Is this foreigner with him?

It's hard to tell.

Who is he, the foreigner?

He got a name?

No way.

Incredible.

And he was gone
from Mazar-e-Sharif

when I got there two days later.

But you found Jallal Said Kahn?

Yeah, but I couldn't get near him.
He was already an anti-western threat.

Pressure from his allies forced him
to split with Henry

whom our best intelligence
has crossing the border

into Uzbekistan in 1989.

In the meantime, Said Kahn,

has become
a superstar Mujahedin.

A sort of cowboy holy man
with a stolen AK-47.

You think Henry's working
with Said Khan again?

Connect the dots, Simon.
Henry to Khan, Khan to Andre.

And now, well...
Andre to Fay.

- But surely you don't think...
- Yes, I do, think.

Just hold on a minute, Fulbright.

Face it, Simon.

Fay's gone over
to the other side.

The other side of what?

The other side of the playing field,
wise guy,

Khan's operation
has become a magnet

for every anti-American
hoodlum in existence.

You're saying you think
Fay's a terrorist?

Look, Simon, people do these things
for funny reasons.

Love, for instance.

I think she'd do anything
to be with Henry again.

Sorry, Angus.

You set her up.

You sent her out there.

She could've come back in.

Her work was done.

Work with me.

Tell me what you know.
No charges will be brought against her.

In the meantime,
she might lead us to Said Khan.

What about Henry?

You know where
Fay is, don't you?

What's the agency's directive
regarding Henry?

- I can't tell you that, Simon.
- You're going to kill him.

The guy's wanted for manslaughter

and he might very well be collaborating

with international terrorists.

Sir, Picard came to in Paris.

He admitted they issued Fay
a fake passport

under the name
of a, uh, Emily Hopper.

Any leads?

Yes, a Emily Hopper boarded a plane
in Paris this morning.

Where to?

Istanbul.

Thank you, Miss Hopper.

When will the room
be ready, you think?

In about an hour.
Can we store your luggage?

Yes.
Just this one.

Very well.

Bebe, don't wander
off like that.

Can we buy some baklava?

I'm so hungry.

We haven't even
had breakfast yet, come on.

But it's good for breakfast.

It's so sweet.

With a nice cup
of black coffee, perfect.

No, come on,
we don't have much time.

Thank you, Miss Najinskaya.

Do you have any luggage?

Yes, this one.

Wait for my call.

Don't leave the room.

Don't talk to anyone.

Can I check my email anywhere?

- Fulbright gone?
- Yeah.

Go check your email.

There she is.

Pera Palas Hotel,
Istanbul, room 315.

She's got a good head start.

This is from seven hours ago.

Ned, go distract
those guys in the van.

As soon as I'm gone,
you call the hospital, right?

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Does this mean anything to you?

Um, no, miss, it does not.

It's not Turkish
or Arabic or anything?

No miss, it is not.

Is everything all right, miss?

H-F.

Excuse me?

It was upside down.

It's the letters H and F.

Ah, yes, so it is.

That explains it.

Explains what?

What it is.

- What is it?
- Initials.

I know it's initials, but...

Whose initials are they?

He's, uh, kind of
a puppet, do you say?

On strings and wires.

Traditional, very old.

Here, I'll show you.

There is a shop in the bazaar
near the palace,

just under the old harem.

I'll get you a taxi.

He'll bring you there.

Call the hospital.

Yeah.

Now go.

So, uh...

You really think
your Mom likes me?

Yeah, definitely.

What about this Angus guy?

She just keeps him
around for his money.

Rich bastard, huh?

He's okay.

She's concerned
about my education.

Yeah, right.

Yeah, I can understand that.

You are American.

Yes, I am.

I can tell by the way you walk.

Are you blind?

For many years, yes.

There's always this character.

The one with the big mouth.

That's him.

The "Harem Fool."

That's our specialty.

He is a popular story.

A legend.

Like Scheherazade.

Many centuries ago,

a stranger, a westerner,

found his way into the harem

of the Sultan's palace.

He had seduced all the sultan's
concubines

by the time he was discovered.

The sultan was about to kill him
when the stranger asked

to be allowed to confess
his sins before he died,

as he was, so he said,
a Christian.

The sultan was an open-minded tyrant.

So, he sent for a priest
from the Christian community

just outside the city walls.

The confession took many years
to complete

because the stranger
had committed so many sins

that the sultan
couldn't believe it

and always wanted to hear more.

Finally, everyone forgot

that he was a prisoner
awaiting his death.

And he was thought
of as the harem fool.

I have one of these toys.

They are quite popular.

Yes.

Have you been here before, then?

No, I've never been here before.

The toy was sent to me.

By a friend, I think.

What story does the toy tell?

The toy tells the story...

of the harem fool...

seducing the sultan's concubines.

You have come a long way

and put yourself
in great danger.

Where is he?

Where is Henry?

That is not for me to say.

Lock the door and turn
the sign around.

Lower the blinds.

Ghesam?

Maybe we should
call the hospital now.

Nonsense, I'm fine.

If we call the hospital, it'll alert
what's his name out there.

- Carl?
- Yeah, Carl.

They'll investigate
and realize Simon's gone.

Let's wait at least until
he gets to Istanbul.

Now we must wait.

Where am I?

You do not want
to know that, Fay.

What's going to happen?

A man will talk to you.

Answer his questions honestly.

And remember
not to ask questions.

Will he take me to Henry?

Don't be impatient.

Answer his questions.

If necessary,
ask for his guidance.

We may have to wait some time.

Miss Hopper registered,
left her luggage

and said she was going
for a walk.

- Where's her luggage?
- In her room.

We need to examine that luggage.

I cannot let you into her room.

That is against hotel policy.

We'll need to get
the locals involved.

Notify the police.

Watch all the entrances.

What is it you have
come here for?

I'm looking for my husband.

Your husband.
What is his name?

Henry.

How is it you have come
to lose your husband?

He ran away.

He was in trouble.

I see.

And has this trouble passed?

No.

He's still in trouble then?

Yes.

You want to protect him
from these troubles?

If I can.

You want to share these
troubles with him?

If I have to.

Where do you intend
to look for him?

I was hoping you might
choose to advise me.

You can go now.

It's nothing.

Just clothes.

Okay, come on.

About fucking time,
your Excellency!

Where's the new stove
you promised me!

Hey, scum bag, go get me some more wood!

I'll freeze to death
in here, Jallal,

and then you'll have that
on your conscience, too.

How goes the jihad,
you cheap fuck!

Why can't you find a nice kerosene
heater somewhere?

Save you from having to chop up
the furniture to keeps us warm.

It's only you who needs
to be kept so warm.

I mean, if I were
a world-famous terrorist.

I am not a world-famous terrorist.

Yeah, and whose fault is that?

And, and where are
those books I asked for?

This is cruel and unusual punishment,
my friend.

If the opinion of the world
is of no consequence to you,

I'd think you'd
at least have enough

self-respect to act like a gentleman.

But you are not
of course now suggesting

that you are a gentleman?

Hey...

I was suave enough in my day.

I've lost a little of my polish,
it's true,

stuck down here in this vault.

And, and for what?

For being a friend to you!

Exactly, for being
a friend to me.

You know where I am.

No one can know where I am.

Besides, I've needed you.

That's really mighty
white of you, Jallal.

I suppose you lock up everyone you need.

Incarcerate all your friends.

If I have to, yes.
There's too much at stake.

Listen, the wood, the books,

materials of every kind,

they've been hard to get.

Our supplies have been cut off.

We're hoping for support
from our contacts

across the border in Iran.

I may have to return.

- To Afghanistan?
- Yes.

Are you crazy?

The time has come
to stop hiding.

You'll be decimated.

There will be setbacks,
losses, I agree.

In the short run.

But in the long run,

they will see we can manage.

They will not be able
to beat us down forever.

There is a better way.

Even you, even you
came back, Henry.

I was just passing
through, Jallal.

I was in trouble
and you owed me favors,

whether you care to admit it or not.

Don't pin any medals on me, please.

Besides, that's
just the way I am.

I gravitate to the lowest
common denominator

on principle.

Go ahead, insult me.

There was a time when you
said I could do no wrong.

It's true.

You were extraordinary.

I don't pretend to understand

either your religion
or your politics.

But you used to be
a sensible dude.

And now look, me, your best friend.
I'm your prisoner.

Henry, you are a fugitive criminal.
An alleged murderer.

Uh, a mistake.

I regret it.

But what's done is done.

Of course, when you came to me,
desperate and hurt,

I took you in.

But now our friendship
is well known

to intelligence agencies
all over the world.

Go ahead and complain about it,
why don't ya?

And now you are not merely
a wanted criminal,

but are suspected of being
an American traitor.

Some of their best citizens
have been described thusly.

But, now, the worst thing possible,
you're famous.

A legend, yes,

the mythic mentor
of the notorious Simon Grim.

- Really?
- It's true.

A new trend, a sensation even.

We saw it on CNN.

You see.

They have to bludgeon
a man into obscurity

before they'll acknowledge his genius.

- It's a ploy.
- A what?

The CIA suspects that if they find you,

you will lead them to me.

Oh, yes, of course,
it's all about you Jallal.

But Henry, it is.

You arrogant bastard.

You didn't even know how to talk
when I met you.

You were afraid of your
own fucking shadow.

Your past is catching
up with you.

- Fulbright?
- Yes.

That fuck.

How?

Sit down.

What?

She's here.

Who's here?

Fay.

- Are you kidding me?
- It's true.

Shit! You got a comb?

No, wait, hold on.
How the hell did she find me?

We sent for her.

Why?

She seems to love you very much.

No... Did she say that?

Forget it.

Henry, I have to go.

Jallal!

Fulbright was using her
to draw me out.

And it worked?

She caught on early enough
and tricked him.

But he's catching
up with her too.

You can't do this.

Jallal, you can't bring Fay
into all this madness.

She's already
in all this madness.

You yourself made sure of that.

Hey, I just fell
in love with her.

I didn't send her a note and ask her
to join some half-assed jihad!

Henry, it's difficult
to be your friend.

Yeah, well, stand in line, pal.

We called Fay here
to take you away

rather than to put you
in front of a firing squad.

- My friend...
- I am not just your friend.

I don't make decisions by fiat.

I have protected you over
the last three years

from the justified
if somewhat reactionary

elements of my administration.

They would have killed you
back in 1989

if I hadn't sent you away.

Every decision I make has consequences

I can barely stand to carry.

I am not a man any longer.

I am an instrument.

A pity.

I prefer it that way.

Go ahead.

Martyr yourself.

Die a saint.

Yes, of course,
I can see right through you.

If anything happens to Fay,

Jallal, I'll torture
your wives, your family,

your children
and their children.

There'll be a disease
upon this earth with your name on it.

The only thing anyone will inherit
from Jallal Said Khan

is a long lifetime
of intolerable pain.

Sorry.

That's just
the kind of guy I am.

Hello, I'd like to leave a note
for my friend in room 315.

Yes, sir.

Thanks.

Do you know who I am?

No.

Good.

Do you know where you are?

Not really.

Turkey?

Fair enough.

I'm a friend of Henry's.

Oh, good.

I am also an enemy
of the United States.

I don't keep count,
but I've killed

at least hundreds
of your fellow citizens.

Many, many more of your soldiers
and professional spies.

Oh.

May we continue talking?

Okay.

Did you kill Andre?

No... I...

I believe you.

Did he give you anything?

Two books
of Henry's "Confessions."

Good.
Are they with you?

At the hotel.

Fay...

Henry is a wanted man
in more ways than you know.

Can I see him?

Is he all right?

He's safe.

But not for long.

You said you would share
his troubles and protect him.

The time has come
for you to do that.

You must decide.
If you wanna be with him,

you must decide.

There will be no turning back.

He is an exile.
You, too, will be an exile.

You will not be able
to go home again.

I understand.

Hasan will give you directions

to a certain pier
on the Bosporus.

At 6:15 this evening
a boat will dock

for a few minutes at this pier.

Be there.
Get on the boat.

Henry and you will be taken up
into the Black Sea

and sometime tomorrow,
you will be transferred

onto another vessel
bound for Odessa.

I'm afraid from there on,
you are on your own.

Fay, please, when we drive off,

stand where you are
and count to 20.

Do you understand
the directions I gave you?

Yes.

1, 2, 3, 4,

5, 6, 7, 8,

9, 10, 11, 12,

13, 14, 15, 16,

17, 18, 19, 20.

Excuse me, where
is the men's room.

To the right of the elevator.

Who are you?

Are you really Simon Grim?

Where's Fay?

She should have
been back by now.

She told me to wait.

Who are you?
What's your name?

I am Bebe Konchalovsky, okay?

But only sometimes.
I am mostly Olga Najinskaya.

And I am very hungry.

Can I get something
to eat, please?

Hello?

Simon.

Get your stuff.

I'll meet you in the lobby
in five minutes.

Yes, Grim, Fay, U.S. passport.

Or Hopper, Emily, same.

No, I'm sorry, no one.

She may be traveling with another woman.
A Russian passport.

Possibly registered
as Konchalovsky, Bebe.

- No, no, Konchalovsky.
- What about Chekov, Ilyanna?

No, no Chekov.

Tchaikovsky, Bernadette?

Maybe a Danish passport,
possibly Sweden.

No.

- How about Olga?
- Just Olga?

Yeah, no family name, just Olga.

Najinskaya?

First name Olga?

Najinskaya, Olga.

- Russian passport.
- Room 315, okay, let's go.

I listened to you
when I was in misery.

When I was lost.

And it helped me to see
the light and to win.

But when I was winning, I...

chose not to hear you anymore.

I know.

And I'm sorry for that.

Where's Bebe?

Where is Fay?

I don't know.

Perhaps you would prefer
being handed over

to our Russian Associate here

and being taken back
to face charges in Chechnya?

Please, enough!

Bebe...

My government will offer
you and Fay

diplomatic asylum if you can lead us
to Henry Fool.

Hold on, what is this?
Fulbright?

Picard, you can't do that.
Fay's an American citizen.

Only Fay has this number.

Come on, let's do it then.

- Fay?
- Put Bebe on.

I can't.

It's dangerous right now.

I'll call you back.

No.

She's not letting me.

Put Bebe on.

Fay...

Don't let them send me away.

Bebe, no one
is going to hurt you.

Do you understand me?

- But they...
- They will let you go.

I promise.

When they do...

go to where
the sweet things are.

Understand?

If you understand
don't say anything.

Understand?

Put Fulbright on.

Fay, let me bring you in.
This has gotten out of hand.

Let Bebe go.

Where is Jallal Said Khan?

I don't know, nearby, I think.
But he's going away.

Khan's nearby,
and he's on the move.

Fulbright, let her go,
she's unimportant.

No! Where's Fool?

We need Fool.

You don't understand.

We cannot help suppress
related terror groups

if Khan is not in custody.

We must have Khan.

Fay, you're in no real position
to strong arm anybody, you know.

Bebe has told us everything.

Listen, you jerk, that entire building
is wired to explode.

Bomb threat.

She's bluffing.

Maybe, but she's been able
to make contact with Said Khan.

None of us in London have managed that.

Not even us, with all our contacts
in Moscow.

It seems she's better connected
than we imagined.

Shit, what now?

Sir, the power's been cut.

All communications are down.

Fay, listen, take it easy.

Let Bebe go, now.

And if anyone else leaves
that building before 15 minutes,

the entire place explodes, got it?

Okay.
Where are the books?

Let Bebe leave the building.

She's gone.

- Give me that quick.
- Call back the number.

We'll have the exact coordinates.

Angus?

Wait!
They've got Khan!

- Where?
- In Diyarbakir.

On his way to the border with Iran.

- Captured?
- Surrounded, he's wounded.

You must keep him alive.

Let's go!

To the airport!
Call ahead for ground support!

I just knew you would be good.