Original subtitles

[PATRIOTIC MARCH PLAYING]

[CROWD CHEERING]

Hey, I think we're lost, fellas.

MAN: What's he done now?

We just came through a house.

Is anybody home?

Hey, Rommel! Huh?

Why don't you get off your turret

and find out where we are, huh?

Oh, yeah, well, all right. Well, stick around, and I'll be right back.

The sergeant is gonna find out where we are.

Oh, uh, gun, gun. I forgot my gun.

Help!

Help!

Help!

I'm British.

Hey!

Hey!

[GUNSHOT]

Bloody marvelous, sergeant.

No waste of army ammunition.

What's your name?

What? Uh, Oakes. 7672247, TAC Corps.

Mostyn. Major, British Intelligence.

You stay here. I'll find someone to clean up the mess.

Yeah, w-well, wait a minute, major.

It's a lovely piece of work, old son.

I'll remember you.

[BELL CHIMING]

[CLOCK TICKING]

[GUNSHOT]

[GUNSHOT]

SHIRLEY BASSEY: � The liquidator �

� Will soon be coming around �

� You won't feel safer �

� Until you get out of town �

� He's an eraser �

� He'll rub you out Like a light �

� And for a chaser �

� He'll kiss your woman Good night �

� He's a Jekyll and a Romeo, You know �

� The devil in disguise �

� There's no telling where A girl would go, you know �

� To gaze into his eyes �

� With the snapping of The fingertips of him �

� He'll take your life away �

� And a whisper From the smiling lips of him �

� Will take your wife away �

� The liquidator �

� Will soon be gettin' to you �

� You'll wake up later �

� Somewhere off in the blue �

� The undertaker �

� Would never try to deny �

� That the liquidator �

� Is a hell of a guy �

[GLASS SHATTERS]

� The liquidator �

[MARCH PLAYING]

Good morning, sir.

[GRUNTS]

I think this is him now.

We've been trying to reach you at the club, colonel.

The chief wants to see you.

I'll bet he does.

Good morning, Chief.

Here's a large one for you, Mostyn. I think you'll need it.

Sit yourself down. Thank you.

I've just come from the Prime Minister.

They'd like our heads, Mostyn--

Preferably on a silver platter

in the House of Commons dining room.

Yes, but damn it, sir,

we couldn't act without evidence.

The press and the public aren't interested in our alibis, Mostyn.

As far as the country is concerned,

this is another unmitigated bloody disaster.

Hell's teeth.

I wouldn't mind if it was an isolated case,

but it's always happening.

And it always will, Chief,

as long as we're bound by the rules.

You're adopting a very negative attitude, if I say so, Mostyn.

They've got us by the short and curlies, lad,

and we've got to do something about it at the galloping double.

Yes, but what?

Let me see now. How many suspects have you at the moment

on your top secret list?

About 40.

About 40-- Every single one a potential spy.

And we can't do a damn thing about it

until they make a move when the balloon goes up.

Well, that's democracy for you, Chief.

As you just said, they've got us by the--

Yes, yes, yes, I know, I know.

Well, we've got to carve our way through all that, haven't we, little Mostyn?

I've formulated a plan. It's drastic, distasteful, but I can see no alternative.

Listen to me. These people, these security risks, no matter who they are--

The embassy boys, scientists, civil servants, no matter who--

The moment we smell any trouble, Mostyn--snap.

Snap?

Snap. We liquidate them.

We do what?

Liquidate them. Dispose of them.

Give them the wooden overcoat,

the deep six, the chop-- Do you follow me?

Chief, you'll never get official sanction.

And who the hell's talking about official sanction, eh?

Well, it's against all the principles of the Free World.

Who in the name of the four and twenty virgins

is talking about principles, may I ask?

Did we have principles in wartime?

Mostyn, we've got to dam the floods, stem our security leaks.

We've got to throw their intelligence cells out of gear,

regain the trust of our allies. Ha ha!

To say nothing of saving our own fat, greasy necks, thank you very much.

Well?

I think it's ruddy marvelous.

Ha ha ha! I thought you might.

Instead of scandals, my dear little boy, we'll have accidents--

Neat, unfortunate, fatal...accidents.

What a pity.

The chiefs of staff would never agree.

Oh, my poor boy, haven't you got it even yet?

I have no intention of telling the blasted chiefs of staff.

I'm not going to even tell our own people.

Just you and I and the man who operates

when you press the button.

Zzz...kch!

Find the man and train him-- No cheap crooks.

Go through your files, search your memory, you'll find him.

A private executioner?

Precisely.

We can afford a good salary to get the right chap.

What's the price of loyalty these days? I'm out of touch.

6,000 a year or so with extras.

Perhaps a bit of crumpet on the side.

Then you're just the little fellow

to arrange that, aren't you?

But, Chief, this is tantamount to murder.

Then go and find a murderer.

PRIEST: Forasmuch as it has pleased almighty God in his great mercy

to take unto himself the soul of our brother here departed,

we therefore commit his body to the ground...

earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust

in sure and certain hope of the resurrection

to eternal life.

Remember me, Sergeant Oakes?

Oh, hello... uh, Paris. Mmm.

Ha. Major, uh...

Mostyn, old son. Colonel now.

Oh, fancy seeing you.

Oh, I don't know. Our paths were bound to cross.

I believe the nickname's Boysie, isn't it?

How'd you find that out?

I just thought I'd look you up.

After all, you did save my life, didn't you?

Yes, I guess I did.

When I heard you were running a cafe around here,

I thought I'd call round for a cup of tea.

But the place was closed,

and someone told me to try the cemetery.

Yeah. My, uh, partner died.

Oh, my condolences. An accident?

Yes. He fell off a ladder.

Of course. On his head.

Death's no stranger to you, is it, Boysie?

That's a funny thing to say.

On his head, eh? Careless chap.

Uh, do you mind if we get out of here?

This is hardly the place to, uh...

To talk about death? You're quite right.

Let's find somewhere more congenial.

[ROCKABILLY MUSIC PLAYING]

[CAR DOORS CLOSE]

Sorry, Boysie. I didn't know you had company.

Don't worry. I'll get rid of him as quick as I can.

Hmm? Not on my account, lovey.

Here. Come on.

MOSTYN: Fascinating. Multicolored tits.

Eh?

Where'd you get this little lot?

Oh.

[BIRDS CHIRPING]

Well, my partner Phil Redfern was a bird fancier.

Ha ha! So are you, old Boysie.

You've got three other birds like that

with whom you operate in strict rotation.

No wonder you stayed in England.

Well, what the hell is all this?

Have you been checking up on me?

A little. Business not doing very well, is it?

What? Oh, I see.

You're from one of those blasted finance companies.

Ah, relax, old chum.

I'm not here to take away the refrigerator.

You'd better take a look at this.

Security? N-now, wait. What's the matter?

Don't be alarmed, old son.

I'm not a real copper.

Besides, nobody believes you pushed your partner off the ladder.

Now, listen, cut that out.

Did I touch a raw nerve, old son?

He fell off the ladder.

Yes, of course. Oakesie, I've come to offer you a job.

What? Who with?

The department. A well-paid job, I might add.

Your crowd? Ha ha! Me?

Of course, it would mean leaving this delightful corner of the world

and coming to London.

No more necking every Thursday with the town clerk's wife.

Who told you that?

Fortunately, she wasn't pregnant.

We don't want to leave any mementos behind, do we?

Of course, there'll be compensations.

The money we pay you will allow you a nibble at the old dolce vita.

The what?

The sweet life.

The sweet-- Oh, yeah, very funny.

Okay, you've had your little game.

Thanks for calling. Now, get out.

Oakes!

Don't you play the yokel with me.

This discussion is confidential.

It's absolutely confidential, do you understand?

Ahem. Yes, sir.

Do you think I'd spend weeks checking up on you to waste my time--

The government's time, Oakes?

I don't like to be fooled around,

so don't you fool me around.

Now, let's discuss this in a rational way.

Yeah, well, uh, wh-what kind of job is it?

Well, first things first.

I want us to be friends, Boysie.

Oh. You-- You mentioned money.

Precisely. I think you'll find us generous.

I want you to place yourself in my hands.

Let me take you away from all this.

[BOSSA NOVA MUSIC PLAYING]

Like it?

Are you kidding? It's fantastic.

Who lives here?

You do.

Good morning.

Good morning.

Miss Benedict, Mr. Oakes.

Hello. Miss Benedict.

You think of everything, don't you?

Ahem.

Well, would you like to see the rest of the apartment?

Well, we can do that anytime.

Uh, what's your first name?

Janice.

Janice. Uh, Boysie.

Do you like the decor?

Mmm. Absolutely marvelous.

I'm so glad.

It's very nice indeed, my dear.

You send your account to the usual place.

Of course.

W-wait a minute. You're not leaving now?

Well, as long as you're happy with the apartment--

Miss Benedict is an interior decorator.

Oh, well, I'm not really sure

about the wallpaper in the bedroom.

You haven't seen the wallpaper in the bedroom.

Well, I mean, in case I don't like it,

would you leave your telephone number, and I can call you?

Please do.

Who are you?

I'm Miss Benedict's assistant.

Oh, well, about the wallpaper in the bedroom...

Same number.

You may become known as the stud of Bertram Place, me old son.

Ha ha! Colonel, I am hooked.

I'd be crazy to say no to all this.

Let's both agree you're not crazy.

Yes, but you still haven't told me what I'm supposed to do.

All in good time.

Aah!

Ha ha ha!

Why don't you pour us all a drink?

Whiskey?

I say, that's terribly kind of you.

[BRITISH ACCENT] Oh, it's my pleasure.

[WHISTLING QUIETLY]

Just sign here, old Boysie. Ahem.

What's this?

Official Secrets Act.

And this one, old chap.

Just one more.

Oh, I nearly forgot the receipt for your car. Heh!

Huh.

Cheers.

Cheers. Cheers.

If he's not at his Moscow number, try Brighton.

Thank you, dear. Chief.

Hello. I found the man.

What man? He's a killer.

Conceals it beautifully,

but I never make mistakes.

He's a born death merchant.

So?

Simply reporting that your little scheme is underway, sir.

Your scheme, number two, yours.

You know the rules, don't you?

I've never heard of your filthy little plans.

If you fall on your backside from a great height,

you know where you'll be.

On my own.

Precisely.

[BOSSA NOVA MUSIC PLAYING]

WOMAN: You can turn over now, Boysie.

You're done on this side.

Have you got that nice, warm-all-over feeling?

Mm-hmm. Oh...

[TELEPHONE RINGS]

Hello.

MOSTYN: If you can spare a minute to get off the nest...

What?

I would like to remind you that life is not all sex and sunlamps.

You start serious training tomorrow.

Early. [HANGS UP]

Bah.

Boysie?

No more sunlamps after tonight, darling. I have to start work.

Boysie...

I'm glowing.

[GUNSHOTS]

No, no. Too low! Anticipate.

What do you mean, anticipate?

What the hell do you think I'm trying to do?

MAN: Keep your head down.

It is down!

Don't bounce about like a jack-in-the-box!

I'll give you jack-in-the-box when I get out of this!

Come on now! No, no. Too low.

[SHOOTS]

Good progress, Robins? Good morning.

Morning, sir. Hey, listen.

When do I get back to town and do some spying?

This commando stuff went out with the war.

Everything you do here will be put to good use.

Yeah, well, all I do here is learn how to kill people.

Presumptuous of us, but think of it as a finishing course.

Hey, who's that?

My secretary. Hmm.

In case the blood is stirring in your lecherous veins,

let me tell you rule number one:

spies are not allowed to meet with office birds after hours.

Really? Yes, Oakes. Really.

"Civilian staff are forbidden--"

Section "B," para 2--

"To communicate, consort or assemble

with active serving members of the department."

Violation of this is punishable by up to 10 years imprisonment.

Do you get the message?

Oh, I get the message.

Carry on, Robins.

Very good, sir.

[OAKES SHOOTING]

[BOYSIE LAUGHING]

Oof! Oh...

Too slow. Ow!

MAN: Come on! Pay attention.

[CHOKING]

Oh, excuse me. Ahem.

I haven't really met your secretary, have I?

Uh!

We're leaving now, Iris. Wait for me in the car.

We still have a lot to learn, haven't we, old son?

Keep it up.

39.

Arms up.

Oh, we are big across the chest, aren't we?

Watch it. 43.

That will be all. Thank you, sir.

Now, sir,

this first glass, if you please.

An Americano with arsenic.

Good.

A cyanide sidecar.

A Manhattan with prussic acid.

That's very nasty. Good.

Coca-cola. Ah.

And finally, sir,

which martini would you take?

The one without the microphone.

Well, Boysie.

Well, colonel.

We made it.

Yes, sir.

Brandy, gentleman?

The Courvoisier Grand Reserve.

If it's the 1914.

Sir.

Graduation day with honors.

Thank you, sir.

Tomorrow you become operational.

Oh, so soon?

I've come to like you, Boysie.

Not a bad scout yourself, sir.

And admire you.

You're smarter than the average agent,

old Boysie. Oh.

Just what little thing did you have in mind

for me to start on?

Ah, the brandy.

Thank you.

If I may propose a toast...to "L."

"L" is your official identification.

"L."

Does that stand for anything in particular?

Yes.

Are you fit?

Yes.

Ready to step into the front line?

Yes.

By the way, when do I meet

the rest of the chaps, sir?

You don't, old son. You don't.

Why not?

Fascinating, this place.

You see that chap-- Mr. Griffen?

Do you know who he is?

No. Listen, are you gonna tell me--

Just filling you in, old son.

After all, this is the world you're going to be moving in.

And you fit the part.

You're as much at home here as anyone else in the place.

Thank you, sir. Listen, you gonna tell me

what my job's gonna be?

Let's not worry about old Charlie.

Charlie's a murderer.

Ha ha! What?

No, don't look around. He'll embarrass you.

That's his gospel, Boysie.

If anyone wants to get rid of their sainted aunt,

old Griffen'll oblige for a few hundred pounds.

Why doesn't somebody arrest him?

Oh, he's too careful for that.

Okay, so our neighbor's a murderer.

It's all very fascinating,

but what the hell's it got to do with me?

Everything.

"L," I omitted to tell you,

stands for "liquidator."

What?

I'll give it to you straight, old man.

No more romping around the mulberry bush.

You're a special special agent.

Your job is to kill for us.

You're bloody mad.

Mr. Griffen is your counterpart,

in a manner of speaking.

He works for private enterprise.

Nothing to do with us.

You've been nationalized.

Kill? Who?

People.

Me?

I couldn't kill a fly.

You're not bad with people, Boysie.

I've seen you, remember?

What do you-- You don't mean Paris?

Now look, that-- That was--

It was in wartime.

This is a kind of war.

You'll kill as a soldier kills,

for queen and country, under orders.

And you're under orders now.

You sucked me into this,

you horrifying old monster.

Control yourself.

You rotten old devil. Do you think I'm going to sit still for this?

You get yourself a Mr. Griffen, because you haven't got me, pal.

You have not got me.

I'll go to the newspapers.

Not after you've been to prison for 20 years

for blowing the Official Secrets Act.

What'll you do after that, go back to the Bird Cafe?

Won't you miss the car and the flat

and all the other little trinkets that go with it?

Don't be ridiculous, Boysie.

You belong to this life.

You couldn't do without it.

MOSTYN: Name, Frances Anne Chandler.

Age 35.

She handles top-secret war office files.

For a year, we know

she's been passing vital information.

Until now, we couldn't touch her.

Last week,

she booked a holiday flight to Zurich,

but her real destination was further east.

If we arrest her,

we cause a security scandal.

If she goes,

she takes too many secrets with her.

There's really only one thing we can do.

Here. Read that.

And you'll know her as well as if

you'd slept with her.

Probably better.

You have four days.

I suggest a rail accident.

Remember your training, L.

Your code alert is the word "pressure."

While a state of pressure exists,

you're on your own.

Pressure?

[TRAIN APPROACHING]

Oh!

Oh.

Heavens.

Nearly had it that time.

MAN: All aboard.

Wh-where's Mostyn?

Dining with a duchess.

Oh.

Oh, well.

I was just passing by

and thought I'd buy old J.G. a drink.

We almost met once.

I'm Iris Macintosh.

Yes, we almost did. I-- I tried.

So I noticed.

So...

You're Boysie Oakes.

You're very hush-hush.

Oh, am I?

The mysterious Mr. Oakes,

code name "L."

The colonel keeps your file in the secret secret drawer.

Oh, does he?

[KNOCK ON DOOR]

I thought I heard voices, miss.

He came to see number two.

Show him your card.

What? Show him your card.

Oh, yes.

I'm just finishing up, Bert.

Good night, miss. Good night, sir.

Good night.

That won't get you into trouble, will it?

Bylaw number whatever number it is,

no fraternizing? Why should it?

You came to see the colonel.

I'll tell him in the morning.

You don't have to do that.

I'd much rather have a drink with you.

Ha ha! That would be living dangerously.

That might be worth it.

Shall we go?

After you.

Oh, that's your exit.

Civilian staff this way.

Good night, Mr. Oakes.

What a marvelous coincidence.

Going my way? Which way?

Uh... my place for coffee?

Well, we have been introduced.

The invitation is just resistible...

tonight. But ...ha ha!

There may not be another night.

That's up to you, Boysie, isn't it?

Taxi!

Good morning.

Mr. Griffen?

Mr. Oakes.

Won't you come in?

No trouble here, sir.

I find in my trade,

the open places are the best.

Oh. Mr. Griffen--

Now, there's no need to be embarrassed.

I've been in this trade a long time.

After you telephoned,

I took the liberty of checking on you.

Oh?

Oh, it's nothing.

One has to be wary of police.

Oh, yes. And newspapermen.

Yes. Well, what did you find out?

That you appear to be a man about town,

if you'll forgive the expression.

Now, sir, who do you have in mind?

Mother-in-law?

Ha ha ha!

Your little joke, Mr. Griffen.

It helps, sir. It helps.

There may be, from time to time,

more than one.

We'll do our best to accommodate you,

Mr. Oakes. No questions.

Absolutely none, Mr. Oakes.

Frances Anne Chandler.

I was thinking perhaps a-- A rail accident.

Yes.

[TRAIN APPROACHING]

Aah!

[PEOPLE SCREAMING AND SHOUTING]

A very smooth job, Oakesie.

Congratulations.

Poor Frances Anne has gone to rest,

safe, at last, on Abraham's breast...

which may be rough on Frances Anne.

But certainly sexy for Abraham.

Ha ha ha!

Ha ha ha!

[COUGHS]

[CHOKING]

Aah!

[TIRES SQUEALING]

George Renwick, physicist,

Nuclear Research Center.

It's all in the envelope.

Physicist.

Um...

We've never really talked,

have we, Mr. Griffen?

Never.

Oh, I see what you mean.

Um...

it's all rather like a war,

and sometimes it-- It bothers me here.

Dyspepsia.

They're all enemies, and they deserved it,

but...

If you say so, Mr. Oakes.

On the other hand...

Look, sir, I wouldn't, if I were you.

Never does to probe too deep,

if you know what I mean.

Aren't you ever curious?

No, not me, sir.

I long ceased to wonder

at the foolishness of my fellow men.

I started life as an undertaker,

so quite early on I got used to

the inevitability of it all.

Well, good-bye, Mr. Oakes.

See you next time around.

It's only dyspepsia.

[FOGHORN HONKS]

I don't know if it's my imagination or not, Mostyn,

but these gatherings seem to be thinning out a bit.

Ha ha ha!

What's the matter with you? Hungry?

Want something to eat? Want some more caviar?

Please, sir, excuse me.

I'll come with you. I must find old Carruthers.

Have you seen him? Is he here tonight?

Haven't you been told, Chief?

Told what? What are you talking about?

Not-- Mmm.

Oh, I say, that's going a bit far, isn't it?

War is hell, sir.

Old Bertie? I can hardly believe it.

Well, well.

Darling, I am a desperate man.

Unless you have dinner with me tomorrow night,

I'm going to tell the colonel we're secret lovers.

That's blackmail.

It's inevitable.

So just why not enjoy it?

Colonel Mostyn. Colonel Chekov.

Quiet?

We keep busy.

Here he comes. Quick, make up your mind.

Careful.

You would do well to reread section 2, para "B."

Come, my dear.

Let's meet some important people.

MOSTYN: Good evening, sir. Pleasure to see you here.

Haven't had the pleasure of meeting your wife.

Hello, dear.

[HUMMING]

[DOORBELL RINGS]

Am I too early?

You could never be too early, darling.

Oh.

Yeah, it's not a bad little place, is it?

Would you care for a drink?

A small sherry.

[MUSIC PLAYING]

Where did you book for dinner?

Somewhere discreet, I hope.

Discreet? Well, uh...

What could be more discreet than right here?

Lots of places, darling.

You know, honey,

flesh and blood can stand just so much.

What does that mean, Boysie?

You are driving me crazy.

It works both ways, love.

[MOANS]

Oh, darling, it's all so dangerous.

All these stupid rules.

And Uncle Mostyn has a knack of finding out.

Oh, Uncle Mostyn. He can't be that smart.

Could you outsmart him?

Give me half the chance.

Well...

I was thinking of palm trees,

sea breezes...

somewhere nice and sunny.

Ahem.

You don't mean out of England?

Next weekend?

[DOORBELL RINGS]

MOSTYN: Boysie?

It's Mostyn! On the balcony!

Good evening.

Hello there, colonel. Caught me lying down.

Who with?

Ha ha ha!

I know that perfume.

Perfume? Oh, aftershave.

Mmm. Lovely. Yeah, glad you think.

Well, what's this, a social call?

No, it's not a social call.

It's pressure, me old son.

Ah, pressure. Mm-hmm.

It's all in there.

Three days for this one.

Roger.

You're not fooling me, Boysie.

What's that, colonel?

You're a fake.

You want a drink?

No, thank you.

What do you mean, a fake?

This dispassionate act you put on.

You enjoy your work.

How many is it now, 12?

Yeah. Yeah, about that.

Enjoying yourself?

Shouldn't I?

All the risks I take for you?

I'm not complaining.

Oh, by the way, when I'm not operational,

my time's my own, isn't it?

I mean, especially on weekends?

Yes, I think we can say that.

But always remember, old Oakes,

at all times,

your soul belongs to the department.

At all times.

At all times.

Ooh.

Ooh is right.

Look out!

Oh.

Now, where were we?

Next weekend, firm date.

Firm date.

And no worries about the rules or...

10 years in the tower.

Well, that's up to you to prove it's worth it, darling.

Yeah.

When we get there.

[BELL RINGS] P.A.: British European Airways

announce departure of their flight,

flight BE-104, to Nice.

Would passengers please make their way to channels 3 and 4

for passport control.

You look like a bride.

I feel like a criminal.

See you at the taxi rank in Nice.

P.A.: British European Airways...

[ANNOUNCEMENT CONTINUING IN FRENCH]

Thank you.

Thanks. And you, sir?

[AIR HISSING]

Thank you.

First time?

No, it happens every time.

There are more people killed in road accidents

than air crashes.

Morning, Iris.

Oh, it's Jessie, sir.

Miss Macintosh is on leave for the weekend.

Good morning, Jessie. [TELEPHONE RINGS]

Shall I answer that?

No, get me some coffee. Mostyn.

Fly. Who?

This is Fly, sir.

Oh, well, hello, Buttons.

Ha ha!

And what can we do for you, old Fly?

I thought I should report, sir,

one of your boys has just left for Nice.

Who might that be?

L, sir. What?

L, sir.

I heard you, man. When?

Oh, a few moments ago, by B.A.E. Trident.

And your secretary, miss what's-her-name, was on the same plane.

Iris? Iris Macintosh?

She's on leave, sir.

Shut up!

Oh, all right, sir.

No, not you, old Fly. Were they together?

No, sir.

They didn't even seem to know each other.

That bloody well proves it.

[DIAL TONE]

That Judas.

The conceited, slippery,

ungrateful, treacherous strutting peacock!

Overpaid, oversexed... and over there.

Your coffee, sir.

Get out!

They must be mad.

[DOOR CLOSES]

Number two here, Blair.

Blair, who is our man on the Cote d'Azur?

We made it.

Ha! Of course.

My dear, time to go.

Oh, cheri, I like it here.

The sooner we get this job over,

the sooner you'll earn lots of lovely money.

Lead me to him.

London advises there is a woman in tow,

a little difficulty...

you can overcome very easily.

The coordinator for the operation

is also expected here on the Riviera.

Oh, big deal.

Oh, it may be, my dear.

[P.A. ANNOUNCEMENT IN FRENCH]

Air France announce the departure

of their flight AF-642 to Rome.

All passengers please...

Good morning, sir.

Hi. Thank you.

That's him.

That's our baby.

Is that him?

Where you go, sir, please?

Huh? Oh, um, uh...

Hotel Napoleon, Monte Carlo.

Yes, sir. Bon.

[SPEAKING FRENCH]

Huh? Oh, no, no.

Uh, wait.

Une fille. Une femme...

uh...uh...

How the hell do you say "I'm waitin' for my wife?"

[SPEAKING FRENCH]

Jolly good.

Here you go.

Merci, monsieur.

Mercy.

Darling, it's sunny and it's safe,

and nobody, but nobody knows we're here.

Ha ha ha!

Oh, what a beautiful view.

Magnificent.

Ha ha ha!

You know what to do, my dear.

Be a good girl. Make it look natural.

We'd better get on with it, cheri,

because if we don't, they will.

All right, all right. Go.

Allo? Allo?

[SPEAKING FRENCH]

Darling, it's fabulous, just fab!

Ha ha ha!

Alone at last.

Ooh.

Darling, give me a chance.

That's what I had in mind.

Mmm.

[TELEPHONE RINGS]

[RING]

[RING]

Hello?

Bonjour, monsieur.

This is the maitre d'hotel speaking.

May I present to you my compliments

and advise you that we are serving the luncheon

in the main dining room.

Yeah, well, bonjour to you too,

but I think we'll skip lunch.

I'm starving.

Second thoughts, we'll have lunch.

Tres bien, monsieur.

And also, may I offer you a little aperitif?

Ah, very well. Certainement, monsieur.

I will reserve a table for you

by the swimming pool.

Marvelous. Thank you.

Table by the pool for lunch.

[MUFFLED]

Ha ha ha!

Champagne?

Give me 10 minutes to freshen up.

Mmm.

Champagne.

Well done, vicar.

No, don't do anything.

I'll get in touch with you if I need you.

Weather nice and sunny out there?

English papers arriving all right?

Getting your Church Times?

Ha ha!

Jolly good.

Bye.

The last thing we want is for him to stir it up.

Oh!

I'm terribly sorry.

Oh, you have to be English.

A Frenchman would never turn around like that.

Oh, really?

I-- I'm sorry. You all right?

I think I twisted my ankle.

Oh. Oh, your ankle.

I've got to find you a doctor.

If you could just take me to the car.

Oh. Please.

Oh, wait, wait.

Maybe we could, uh...

Do it better like that.

Oh.

Aren't you strong?

Ha ha ha! Ha ha!

Is it much further?

It's over there. Ah.

You're the best, you really are.

That's a good girl.

There we are.

Uh-- Uh, bonjour.

Uh, excusez-moi.

Uh, malade.

Aah!

[WOMAN SCREAMING AND CRYING]

WOMAN: Don't kill me!

[MUFFLED SHOUTING]

WOMAN: Help!

[TELEPHONE RINGING]

Darling! Where are you?

I'm in London, Mrs. Oakes, and it's raining.

Oh, colonel...

Yes, it's your old Uncle Mostyn.

How's hubby?

Ohh...

He-- He's out.

But how did you...

Find out?

Ha ha! I have spies everywhere, lovey. You should know that.

Monte Carlo is a wonderful place for a weekend, isn't it?

I've thought of it myself from time to time.

Now you listen to me, Mrs. Brian Ian Boysie Oakes.

[SPEAKING INDISTINCTLY] Yes.

Yes, colonel.

Yes, colonel, yes, I'll tell him.

Bye.

[GROWLS]

Iris Macintosh in the clear, sir.

She was due for weekend leave.

Damn Iris. There's something not quite right.

I get a click here.

Do you really, sir? I get a twinge here, sir.

Inbuilt warning system.

It's absolutely infallible.

Do you feel it now?

Yes, I-- I do, sir.

Sit down, Martin.

What you're going to hear is ultimate top secret.

It's about L.

Ohh.

Lie still.

Don't try to move.

Thank heaven you're all right.

Oh, somebody really belted me.

On the back of the head.

Yeah, but why?

I don't know.

I was hoping you'd tell me.

Uh-- Terrible taste in my mouth.

They stuck a needle in your arm.

Are you all right?

More or less.

[GROAN]

It's 5:00.

We've been here nearly two hours.

Oh, no!

What do they want with us?

I-- I don't know.

It's got to be some kind of a mistake.

If I don't get back to the villa,

Daddy is going to be worried stiff.

Now wait a minute. Maybe that's it.

What? Is-- Is Daddy rich?

Quite flush.

That's it-- Ransom. They're after you.

Ooh, I hope not.

Now listen, listen, miss, uh...

Wit. Weet.

But there's no sense in being formal here.

You can call me Corale.

Corale. Well, my name's Boysie.

Boy-see?

Oh, Boysie. Well, I like that.

Ha ha!

But, Corale, this could be very serious.

Oh, but you'll look after me, won't you?

Yes, I'll try.

[FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING]

Don't let him see you're scared.

The girl stays. You come.

Ugh! Oh...

[DOOR SLAMMING]

Hello, Mr. Oakes. Come in.

Make yourself comfortable.

Sit down. What?

Sit down!

Wait a minute! What is this all about?

You and I, Mr. Oakes, we both know what this is all about.

Now look, whoever the hell you are,

I demand my release, and Miss Wit's, immediately.

Do you realize my wife has probably phoned the consul--

Your wife? Ha ha ha ha!

Well, I doubt, Mr. Oakes, if in your particular capacity,

a wife is considered an asset.

Gregory, fetch the girl.

Wha-- Leave her alone! Leave her out of this!

Hmm. I see you like her, Mr. Oak--

Gregory, just a minute.

Wait. First I will show friend here

some of our more interesting toys.

Hi.

This, Mr. Oakes... this is the strappado.

The what?

You never heard of strappado?

Oh, ha ha ha!

Yakov is most efficient with the strappado.

And that chair you sit in, Mr. Oakes,

we do not use it to pull the teeth out.

No.

Wh-what are you trying to do, frighten me?

With your record, we wouldn't even presume to try.

The simple fact we still have to establish is,

why are you here?

You don't know a damn thing!

Ha ha! Your name is Brian Ian Oakes.

You're known by a slightly ridiculous and--

Forgive me for saying so, but--

A rather effeminate nickname of Boysie.

Hmm. Boysie... Boysie.

Your special security code letter is "L."

Your occupation, hired assassin.

Look, I don't know where you get your information,

but this is just a bunch of nonsense!

Now I'm asking you the question again. Why are you here?

Because you brought me here, you screaming old nit.

Now, Mr. Oakes,

please, no more of that kind of insolence.

For the last time,

why are you in France, and who is your target?

Look, I swear to you, I don't know what you're talking about.

I came here for a quiet weekend holiday with my wife.

Weekend holiday with his wife.

Oh, you're a very foolish man, Boysie Oakes.

And now we shall try again.

You will have to tell me why are you here

and who you've been sent to kill,

or my boys here will use their talents

on the shapely body of Miss Wit.

After which we shall kill you, Mr. Oakes.

Extremely slowly.

Meditate on those things.

Meditate.

Hmm.

Mr. Oakes? No, madame. We have paged him. He is not in the hotel.

Thanks.

What's going to happen to us? Why have they got us here?

Look, i-it's all a terrible mistake.

I work for the government, sure,

but I'm just sort of a civil servant.

The government. Goodness. You mean, something secret?

Now look, they think I'm on a hush-hush job.

Aren't you?

I'm here on a blasted holiday!

A simple, blasted holiday.

Oh, I'm sorry, it's not your fault.

I'm sorry. Here, you want a cigarette?

Anyway, they're coming back for me in one hour to question me

and then take you with me, and, and...

It's gonna be very rough.

Oh, don't.

We'll think about that when it happens.

Well, what are we gonna do in the meantime?

Oh, take our minds off it. That's best, isn't it?

[HUMMING]

Gregory! More coffee!

[DOORBELL RINGING]

Yes? What do you want?

Baudelaire? I'm Chekov.

Huh?

If only we could sell the house and go back to Moscow.

What you ta--?

Oh, yes, yes, yes. Of course, the password.

Yes.

Um, uh, just a minute, just a minute. Uh...

Life is just a bowl of cherry orchards, no?

No. No? Hmm. Uh...

Well, of course.

But first we must cut down the orchard.

Hmm.

Well, my dear fellow, come in, come in, please.

You'll have some coffee, hmm, please?

Some of that Bisquit Dubouche, perhaps?

Gregory, another cup.

No coffee, no brandy.

Stay outside.

Is, uh, something wrong, Chekov?

What were your orders, Baudelaire?

You mean what were--

Your orders, man. Repeat them.

Well, uh... I was contacted

and given the dossier of this Englishman,

this "L."

I was told to-- To cover his arrival, to identify him...

And await further instructions.

Yes, yes, it's true, Chekov,

but we had the opportunity to apprehend him.

Yes, we were told that he's highly dangerous,

so we wished to impress you and the coordinator of our integrity.

The coordinator is impressed only with your stupidity.

Yes, but, Chekov,

we've been just interrogating him

to find out why he is here.

We know why he is here. He is on holiday.

Ha ha ha! That's what he told us,

but I didn't believe him.

I thought that--

Who cares what you thought, you imbecile?

You've threatened one of the biggest operations we've ever planned.

But, Chekov, I didn't know!

I just-- Well, I--

Well, I thought it was a question of initiative, of--

Get him out of here. Arrange an escape, and make it real.

I want him back in the hotel, and quick, before somebody raises the alarm.

Oh, yes, yes, of course, of course, yes.

How many people in the house?

Uh, me and my two men.

Oh, yes, and the girl, but, uh, she knows very little.

Simply in it for the money I give her.

I used her as the bait.

Drop her. Yes, yes, of--

Get rid of her.

Do I make myself clear?

Yes, sir. Of course.

I understand, Chekov.

And the rest of you, stay undercover until you hear from us.

Yes, sir.

And this time, Mr. Sheriek-- Yes, sir?

No blunders.

Oh, no, no blunders this time, sir.

Good night, Chekov. Drive carefully.

Gregory!

Gregory, where are you?

GREGORY, IN DISTANCE: Coming!

Oh.

GREGORY: I heard, excellency. I brought the girl.

Oh, he's a dish, Sheriek. What's the matter?

Shh!

My dear, the ball is over.

We must get him out of here-- Allow him to escape.

And you, sweetheart, you will have to go with him.

In other words, darling, you've made a muck of it.

Well, we've slightly overplayed our hand.

Here. This is for you.

How do we get out?

Take the car.

Hey, listen. Where is Yakov?

He went to the village to buy some cognac.

We must warn him. Sure.

And, Gregory... make sure he knows.

Sure, sure.

What'd they want?

More questions. I think there's some kind of panic on.

Mmm. Oh, you're quite a Boysie.

W-wait a minute. Something's wrong.

What?

He left the key in the door. Camel face has goofed.

Oh, darling, you're wonderful.

What are we waiting for?

What? It could be some kind of trap.

Well, I am frightened.

We ought to get out while we can.

Huh? Yeah.

Well, keep close behind me. Come on.

Shh!

Where the hell are they? I don't like this.

Maybe the keys are in the car.

What?

Yeah. Come on.

MAN: Hey!

Yakov! No! Oh, no!

Shoot.

[GUNSHOT]

Now.

[GUNSHOT]

Sorry, baby.

Gregory, shoot him, but for God's sake, miss him.

[GUNSHOTS]

Miss him. Again. Good.

[GUNSHOT]

Well, come on!

Yakov! Yakov, stop!

Gregory!

Gregory, stop that idiot!

We should have stuck to thieving, you and I.

My dear, it was much more honest.

[SCREAMING]

[ENGINE REVVING]

WOMAN: Mr. Oakes?

Darling, why can't you tell me what happened? I've been going crazy.

Give me that, honey.

I didn't know what to do.

I even rang the hospital.

Oh, darling, can't you tell me what's wrong?

Or is it the job, the department?

Honey, I'll keep your name out of it,

but I've got to call Mostyn.

You mustn't.

I know all hell's gonna break loose, but I've got to.

Boysie, he rang us.

What?

Just after you left.

He found out about us.

Well, that's it. That's the end.

That's the court-martial, 10 years in the tower.

No, no, darling. It's not so bad.

He's not going to take it up with the chief.

What?

The point is, there's a job for you.

You're operational.

Oh, no.

Oh, darling, I know it messes up our weekend,

but at least we're off the hook.

Well, what did he say?

Not to get in touch.

Yeah, but wh-what else? He must have said something--a word.

Oh, that.

Well, he just said to tell you, "pressure."

Ha ha ha!

[KNOCK ON DOOR]

Good evening.

L? I'm Quadrant.

Who?

You're supposed to say, "coronet."

to which I reply, "and ermine to you, sport."

What?

Of course, I'm not surprised you're in the dark.

You really must pick up your mail.

So, this is the lovely Iris?

Naughty boy.

What is it, Boysie?

It's a code message from London.

To tell you to pick me up at nice airport

one hour ago. Never mind. I took a taxi.

Where did you get this?

At the desk, old darling.

You'd better decode it to make sure I'm genuine.

Well, don't worry, pal. I intend to.

Iris, old sport,

I'm afraid you aren't allowed to stay in here

while I'm briefing the boyfriend.

What would you like her to do,

go for a walk in her negligee?

No, afraid not.

Orders are to stay in the hotel.

We can't have her cruising around like that, can we?

Why don't I take a bath?

Or is that against orders?

Seems a reasonable thought.

You'll, uh, keep the taps running, won't you?

There's a good girl. Excuse me.

[DOOR CLOSES]

Okay, you're all right.

Jolly good. Well, let's try it again, shall we?

Well, I'm Quadrant.

Coronet.

And an ermine to you, sport.

Well done.

You didn't put a foot wrong that time, did you?

Better sign the old doodah, for a starter.

But it's--

That's the one, L. That's your boy.

The Duke of-- Quite.

Not Prince-- Precisely.

What's the game, Quadrant?

Who's trying to be funny?

Ha ha ha! Oh, dear, your face.

Mostyn said to watch your face.

Shut up and explain this!

He said he'd give a month's pay to see your face.

Listen, you grinning oaf,

I'm not gonna bump him off. I like him.

Shh. Simmer down. Fun's over.

I should bloody well think so.

Who's the real target?

The duke is.

Now, now, wait a minute, relax.

He's in on it.

It's not a real operation.

It's a... security exercise.

What?

You're not really going to shoot him.

You'll be using blanks.

Oh.

One of those, huh?

Yes. He's visiting the Royal Air Force station at Gayborough.

It's a little game of spies and assassins, with V.I.P. backing,

simply to test their security.

Quite fun.

Yeah, quite fun.

Yes, well, we'll see you in the morning.

Right. There's one tiny surprise.

Yeah? What's that?

The duke's visit is tomorrow morning.

You and I and the girlfriend

are booked on the plane back tonight.

Aw, no! Sorry, sport.

Know just how you feel.

Mostyn. Mostyn! He's done this deliberately.

You know, I think he fancies the little darling himself.

See you both at the airport.

You know, you're a naughty pair.

What happened?

Oh, Mostyn's done this on purpose.

He-- He wants us to go back to--

Tonight.

[DOOR OPENS]

You've just got time to pack.

[DOOR CLOSES]

I bet he and Mostyn make a wonderful pair.

Oh, well.

[CHUCKLING]

[DOOR LOCKS]

[BOYSIE SOBBING]

Baudelaire?

Oh, Chekov, good evening. Come in, please.

Come in, please, gentlemen, come in.

First, we must cut down the cherry orchard.

See, I remember.

Ha ha ha ha!

It has all been done, sir.

The girl? Gone.

Yes, poor girl. Your men?

One is dead, the other... I've sent away.

But, um, Chekov, uh...

Wouldn't you introduce me?

The coordinator, perhaps?

I represent the coordinator.

Ah. Ha ha ha!

I am so happy to meet you, sir.

Good. Then perhaps you'd like to meet your successor.

Oh, ha ha ha ha!

The--

What's that?

Oh, it's all a mistake, sir, it--

It's not me, see? It is that word for--

Oh, no, sir, no, no, no.

Please, my dear sir.

Please tell him it's a mistake!

Baudelaire, I leave you with this one thought in mind:

you predecease a very important person.

[GROANING]

[SIGH]

Are you all right, darling?

Yeah.

Just something I ate.

Sharpen up, old sport, sharpen up.

Mostyn wants us through the customs like a dose of senna.

Must keep the airport laddies on their toes.

Mostyn is a berk.

Ah, but he's the chief,

and he holds us in his hot little hands.

So be nice and play Cowboys and Indians like he wants us to.

Mean, sadistic, miserable berk.

Well, what's happened to the moron?

Well, I-I-I'm terribly sorry, sir,

but L and your Miss Macintosh

are on the way home tonight, sir.

Already?

The weekend must have been an absolute disaster.

Yes, well, they're on the 105 from Nice,

so they're due in about--

Oh, about 40 minutes, I suppose. Yes.

Well, what are you standing here for, old Fly?

Get cracking! Come on, start pedaling.

Oh, yes, sir.

And have them tailed wherever they go.

Put the fear of God into them!

MAN: Sir?

Message, sir, from Blue Boy.

Who? Oh, that bloody code book.

Who's Blue Boy?

Our man on the Cote d'Azur, sir.

Oh, the vicar. What's he want?

It's Sheriek, sir, them and Baudelaire.

That idiot?

I thought they got rid of him years ago.

Well, they've got rid of him now, sir.

Blue Boy reports his body's been found.

MAN: I think you ought to have a look at this, sir.

Reds under Air Force order prohibiting

their military flights along this corridor,

the coast to archangel from 0900 hours.

That's...odd.

Keep me informed.

Message from Fly, sir.

Who? Oh, Fly.

The 105 from Nice has landed.

Ah.

Mostyn.

Yes, Fly?

A man with big ears. I see.

Well, get over here at a rate of knots.

Get plenty of sleep, sport.

We want you fresh for the job.

Hey, wait a minute, what about my car?

Pick it up in the morning.

Iris, old thing, we'll drop you at Oxford.

You can train it back.

No, sir.

Miss Macintosh has to come along for the ride.

Mostyn wants to see her.

I say, we are in demand,

aren't we, old darling?

Yes, well, don't you worry.

We're gonna ask for another weekend.

I think he owes us that.

They're on the A-4, sir, moving west.

The pursuit car reports three men and a girl.

MOSTYN: Don't intercept.

Use a 4-car interchangeable tail.

Right, sir.

Who do we know with big ears?

The jag's pulled off.

Might be an interchangeable tail.

Plenty of time to lose 'em.

FLY: Yes, that's him.

MOSTYN: You're absolutely certain of it?

Oh, that's the one. There's no doubt at all.

Let's have it, Mac.

Uh, nasty, very nasty. We're in trouble.

His real name is Constantine Alexei Scabatin.

His parents were supposed to be

white Russian immigrants.

Educated at Eton and Wadham,

went to Moscow in '56,

and this is the first time

we've known that he was back.

Skip the character stuff. What's his speciality?

He's a right all-rounder.

Ruthless, a fixer.

Must be something pretty big.

MOSTYN: You'd better get me all the security alerts

for tonight and tomorrow.

Sir.

He's been trained to do one thing.

He has one talent.

What do you mean?

They sort of conned him or hypnotized him?

It's the only logical answer.

But who is the target?

Well, there's not much on, sir.

Russian ambassador's gone to the Albert Hall tonight.

And tomorrow at 0900 hours,

the duke's visiting Gayborough.

Gayborough?

Yes, sir. The R.A.F. section.

How's the knee?

Pinging away like mad, sir.

Priority order: bring them in at once!

Damn!

The bloody fools have lost them.

Did you call?

No, I did not call!

But now that you're here, get onto records.

I want everything we've got on R.A.F. Gayborough.

I don't understand it. It seems incredible.

But somehow they've persuaded him

to shoot the Duke of Edinburgh.

Darling!

You look gorgeous.

How would you like a quick stroll

through the haystacks?

Yes, well, there's no time for that.

Magazine's loaded.

Uh, blanks, of course.

I should bloody well hope so.

One up the spout, safety catch on.

Iris, jump aboard. Time we were mobile.

BOYSIE: Pow!

Stop messing about, L.

Listen, one of these days, pal--

Yes, you do that.

But meanwhile, let's not keep the duke waiting.

But, Chief--

Shut up and get in the car.

[MARCHING BAND PLAYING]

Now, have you got it all firmly fixed in your mind?

Yes.

Right. Remember, don't fiddle with the bolt.

It's all set up, and noise carries.

You put two bullets into him--

Metaphorically speaking, of course--

As he inspects the guard.

[SIGHS]

You just don't trust my memory, do you?

Well, we want it to be a great success,

don't we, sport?

QUADRANT: Into the back, L.

Iris, old thing, go to the officer's mess.

If anybody asks, say you're waiting for colonel Mostyn.

Good luck, darling.

Aim it for real, sport.

Well, I could hardly miss from here, could I?

That's the spirit, old dear.

You settle yourself down,

and you'll be as snug as a corpse in a coffin.

[HELICOPTER APPROACHING]

Guard of honor, attention!

Shoulder arms!

Guard of honor, present...arms!

[BAND PLAYING]

Ooh, brother.

If only this were for real.

Don't move! Have you gone nuts?

You've ruined the whole thing.

Come on, this way.

They've got him, sir.

Oh, that's all right then.

Show's over.

MOSTYN: Oakes!

Didn't we pay you well enough?

You know what we do with traitors in this country?

What the hell are you talking about? It was your idea.

What about the code words "ermine," "coronet"?

You know this gun's loaded with blanks.

[GUNSHOT]

Oh, my God.

Tell me all about coronet and ermine.

Tell me all, and tell me quick.

I-I thought you planned it. You sent Quadrant to Nice.

I have never heard of Quadrant.

Who is he?

Shut up that bloody band!

Who is he?

[AIRPLANE APPROACHING]

What is that?

MAN: It's the vulture.

Who gave the order to take off?

The vulture?

The M-31 equipment?

Aye.

What the hell is it doing here?

That's what the duke wanted to see, man.

That's it.

Come with me, Boysie.

Bring your gun!

Warn security!

What's this all about?

The M-31.

Top security.

Hottest thing since the H-bomb.

This is what they were really after

with your help.

Get him!

[GUNSHOTS]

Jump!

Control calling vulture.

1-4-5 echo.

1-4-5 echo, do you read me?

We're being jammed.

There's nothing on the radar.

It would be you.

Feeling sick, Boysie?

You bitch!

All the time, everything was a fake.

Not everything, you dumb ox.

Get back there and fly this thing.

Don't panic, lover.

It's on George.

Turn the plane back, Iris.

What would you do, darling?

Shoot me?

I'm the coordinator of Operation Coronet.

I've been trained half my life for this moment.

I can't raise them, sir.

Alert your fighter groups in East Anglia.

Find that damn vulture and...shoot it down.

Aye.

Give me the gun, Boysie.

You haven't got a chance.

Every fighter plane and every tracking station--

Nuts to the tracking stations.

This little baby is a radar scrambler.

Perhaps they'll let us finish our weekend

on the Black Sea, darling.

I'll give you one more chance.

Turn the plane back.

There's an oxygen mask over here.

Give me the gun, and you can have it.

RADIO: This is control calling 1-4-5 echo.

1-4-5 echo, do you read me?

This is control calling 1-4-5 echo.

Help!

This is control calling 1-4-5 echo.

1-4-5 echo, do you read me?

This is control calling 1-4-5 echo.

They're on the screen now, sir.

We've got you, 1-4-5 echo.

Help!

Now, there is a switch in front of you marked R/T.

Press that and inform who is in command.

R/T.

It's on the bloody steering wheel.

RADIO: I repeat, inform who is in command.

Oakes, special security.

Now, listen, I'm alone up here.

The pilot's unconscious.

Get me down, for crying out loud!

Here. Oakes? Listen, man.

We're handing you over to a pilot

experienced in your aircraft.

Stand by.

Just-- Just get me out of here.

Oakes, we're bringing you back to the field

and going to assist you to land.

What do you know about flying?

Are you kidding? I don't know a damn thing.

Just get me out of here. I'm scared sick.

We're all scared from time to time.

Are you flying level?

More or less.

We're on George, whoever he is.

Automatic pilot.

Now listen very carefully.

On your right,

you'll find the control panel marked autopilot.

Do you see it?

Yes.

On the panel is a clocklike instrument.

That's your auto compass.

No need to be alarmed.

Adjust the needle to west,

and this will turn you back towards the airfield.

You're now on course for Gayborough.

Easier than driving a car, isn't it?

Oh, it's bloody marvelous.

Shouldn't I be holding the steering wheel?

No, don't touch that.

On the control panel, you'll see a red knob.

Move it to the position marked "descend."

What the hell are you doing?

What are you doing? What do you--

What do you press to make it stop descending?

You're in the clouds. Don't let the bumps worry you.

Can you see your altimeter?

Oh, do you mean the damn thing

whizzing around like a clock gone mad?

That's it.

You should be losing about 4,000 feet a minute.

Be losing more than that any minute now.

Oh, no!

I can see the ground.

Take absolutely no notice of it.

All very well for you.

We're doing very nicely.

Now we're going to lower the undercarriage.

Who is? You are.

The control button is marked.

You just press it.

Do you see the runway dead ahead?

I'll never land on--

I'll never land on that.

It's the easiest part, old boy.

You gotta be joking.

Whatever you do from now on,

don't touch the controls.

Just sit with your arms folded.

You think I'm crazy? Who's flying this plane?

We are, actually.

Here he comes.

He'll never do it.

He doesn't have to.

Listen, what do I do?

Absolutely nothing.

Oakes, pull the throttles right back.

What?

The throttles. Pull them right back.

Alert!

[SIRENS]

MAN: Shut down the engines.

What's the wait?!

Still alive, sir.

So much for Madame Oakes.

Hello.

Oh, hello. Are you all right?

Yes, I'm fine, I think. It's nice of someone to ask.

I thought you handled that plane marvelously.

Yes, well, it's automatic, really. What's your name?

Judith.

I'm Boysie.

I know.

Boysie!

Listen, before all hell breaks loose again,

do you think we could get together one evening for dinner?

Oh, I'd love to.

But aren't you forgetting

section "B," paragraph 2

of the Official Secrets Act?

What?

"Civilian staff are forbidden to consort

with active serving members of the department."

Punishable by up to 10 years imprisonment.

Oh, no, she's not--

She's my secretary. Judith.

Come on, Boysie.

Now, now, just wait a minute.

I'm no more use to the department.

This is where we part company.

Rubbish.

The department can't afford to lose men like you, Boysie,

not after what you did today.

Take the wheel.

� My liquidator �

� No one can do what you do �

� Sooner or later �

� I knew I'd fall In love with you �

� Your touch can fill me �

� With such burning desire �

� Take me and thrill me �

� With your kisses of fire �

� No love is greater �

� No love was ever More true �

� My liquidator �

� Than my love for you �

� My liquidator �