All language subtitles for The Man From U.N.C.L.Ea. S02E06 The Re-Collectors Affair.eng

Your bag, señor?

Your bag, señor?
Carry your bag, señor?

- Candy? Candy?
- Oh, go away.

- Candy? Candy? Candy?
- Go away. Don't be such a pest.

Candy?

Would you, uh, close
the door, please?

Would you be kind enough to give me
the police department, please? Mm-hm.

Hello? Police department?

My name is Gregori Valetti.

Well, what do you mean, so what?

I have just executed Colonel
Oscar Mannheim. Mm-hm.

He was working as a bellhop
in one of your lesser hotels.

No, no, ha, ha, no. I
won't tell you which one.

Yes, yes. Gregori Valetti.

I work for an organization
called the Re-Collectors.

Perhaps you've
heard of them, huh?

Oh. Oh, you have. Good. Ha.

Well, justice has been
done once more. Mm.

Remember, the Re-Collectors.

We hunt, we find, we kill.

- You too?
- Me too.

- And from the urgency of the summons...
- I thought I detected a towering rage.

And it started out to
be such a beautiful day.

Evangeline has some
papers for you, Mr. Nassau.

Every time I change my
name, it means, uh, trouble.

Mark Nassau, Mr. Solo.
From the Bahamas, of course.

A legitimate art collector who has
agreed to go into temporary retirement...

while we use his
name and reputation.

Passport, identity card...

plane tickets, bills. - Mm-hm.

Is it, uh, too much
to ask what for?

We've placed an ad in the
paper, Mr. Solo, in your new name.

Yesterday's Rome Corriere.

"Your looted masterpieces
reclaimed swiftly and efficiently.

Contact Mark Nassau,
fermo in posta, Rome.

Signed, the Re-Collectors."

For 20 years, Mr. Solo, we've been hunting
a party of four Nazi war criminals...

who disappeared in 1945 with
$17 million worth of looted paintings.

Hunting, hunting,
getting nowhere.

Now...

Well, you tell him, Evangeline.

Now, Mr. Solo, the Rome
police have given us a lead.

They tell us that a young
woman named Lisa Donato...

was recently approached by
a man named Gregori Valetti...

who seems to have some sort of
tenuous connection with these four Nazis.

Tenuous connection, indeed.
He's hunting them down.

Valetti is working for a secret
organization called the Re-Collectors.

They claim they are
re-collecting those paintings.

And some of the have in fact been
returned to their original owners...

in exchange for large
payments of money.

Have you ever heard of a
man named Oscar Mannheim?

Or Rudolf Schultz?

Schultz. Mannheim.

Stirs a memory somewhere.

Well, they're two of the four
Nazis we've been looking for.

They were both murdered
by Gregori Valetti.

And in each instance, he called the
police and boasted of having executed them.

You said there were
four. Uh, the others?

Well, one of them...

leader of the party,
Karl Wenrepp...

He is the man we want most.

The other man, we
don't know his name.

Anyway, with Schultz and Mannheim
dead, they're the only two left.

Surprising that the
Re-Collectors can find

these people and those
paintings so easily...

when we have tried for 20 years,
very hard but without success.

Yes, annoying, isn't it?

Of course, we don't know
now where Valetti is...

but we do know that he contacted
Lisa Donato quite recently in Rome.

So Rome seems to be a
pretty good place to start.

It's my belief this ad of ours
will smoke out the Re-Collectors.

They'll want to know who's
using their name so blatantly.

And if they know
where those Nazis are...

Well, you follow my
reasoning, Mr. Solo?

Yes, yes. I'm certain that Valetti's gun
will be pointing in the right direction.

I just must remember not to
be standing in front of it. Hm?

Mark Nassau.

Okay, Nassau. Into the car.

- Hey, what is this?
- Go on, get in.

You know, I can't
help wondering...

just who you expected
to answer this ad of yours.

And whether your apparent
naiveté is natural or assumed. Ha, ha.

But we'll find out, won't we?

Uh, check those
for me, will you?

You might just find a
customer or two among them.

Now, Mr. Nassau, would you
be good enough to tell me...

the meaning of this
enigmatic advertisement?

During the war, I lost
a priceless Correggio.

Looted by the
Nazis. I want it back.

I believe the Re-Collectors
can get it for me.

And how did you
come to hear of us?

I learned that
certain other looted

paintings had been
returned to their owners.

I figured the best way to
find the Re-Collectors...

was to tempt them to come to me.

And it worked, didn't it?

Yes, it did.

How keen is your
palate, Mr. Nassau?

One of these wines is worthless.

The other is
virtually priceless.

See if you can
tell which is which.

I, uh, won't, if you don't mind.

I promised my dear old mother
that I wouldn't drink until I was 20.

You hurt my feelings.

That was not only discourteous,
it was extremely dangerous.

I'm sure it's no more
dangerous than your wine.

Oh, there are subtler
ways of making a man talk.

Suppose you tell me
who you really are.

- Oh...
- Ha.

That was the cheap one.

This is...

ah, Château Margaux, 1913.

Not more than 10 bottles
left in the entire world.

Huh.

A shame we have to deny
ourselves such luxuries.

Ah, all I really want, you see, is
my Correggio. I'm willing to pay for it.

Actually, I'd be a
rather good customer.

And you're concealing
nothing from us?

- No, I'm as innocent as an unborn child.
- And just as vulnerable.

You know, there
was a time once...

when one had to beat a man
to find out what he was hiding.

But these times are more
civilized, don't you think?

I'd prefer not to have that
done, if you don't mind.

You see, I'm quite allergic
to needles, Mister, uh...?

Ah. Demos. Claude
Alphonso Demos.

And when you know me better...

you'll also know that I
like to have my own way.

It's part of the
philosophy I live by.

Back, Mr. Nassau. Back.

You see, Mr. Nassau, there's something
about your story that I don't like.

I must find out what it is.

- I told you I was a collector.
- And I'm a re-collector.

What wine would you think
suitable to drink during an inquisition?

- What is your favorite wine, Mr. Nassau?
- Someone else's.

You're just in time, sergeant.

- Who sent you?
- I followed this man, Valetti, eh?

So you see, nobody
sent me. I came.

And saw and conquered.

- My thanks. I'll see you.
- Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah.

Ah, I was afraid of that.

If you would be so kind...

I believe my chief would
like to speak to you.

Uh, Inspector Fiamma.

May I visit you in
jail, Mr. Demos?

I'll, uh, bring you a
bottle of California wine.

You were lucky my husband's
men arrived when they did.

If they had found out
who you really are...

I am a better hostess
than mortician.

Ha. Well, you're very
kind, Signora Fiamma.

I am disturbed, Mr. Solo, that
you did not find it necessary...

to warn us of your interest
in these Re-Collectors.

My orders were to cooperate with
the local police whenever necessary.

It Didn't seem that
it was quite time...

to bother the police
with my worries.

- Was I wrong?
- Uh, perhaps. Perhaps not.

But I must ask you now to
lay your cards on the table.

Department F of the Questura,
which I have the honor to command...

is devoting its entire time now to
this search for the Re-Collectors.

We are prepared to
cooperate with you fully...

provided, of course, you
return the compliment.

Mm-hm. But of course, inspector.

Have you had time to
search that wine cellar yet?

Ah, they are searching it
now. But I have very little hope.

- Mr. Solo.
- Oh, thank you, signora.

My husband's favorite vintage.

Mm.

A lot of people know
about vintages, signora.

Your health.

Inspector, uh, I was wondering why you
didn't, uh pick me up at the post office.

When I collected those letters.

We intended to. But we
saw you were being watched.

It was a good lead, and as
you saw, it brought results.

We've been looking for
that cellar for a long time.

Well, you will apprise me...

if you come across
anything, won't you?

Of course, with pleasure.

Open Channel D, please. Urgent.

Yes?

Uh, Mr. Kuryakin
asking for D, urgent.

Channel D open,
Section One here.

Who's in command of the
Italian Questura, Department F?

Department F? Department F
was disbanded six months ago.

Don't you fellows
ever read the bulletins?

We're just making sure, sir.

Hold on, Mr. Kuryakin.
Where are you?

We've taken a villa in Rome.

Mr. Solo is being interrogated
by the nonexistent Department F.

How very unenterprising of him.

He used the code
phrase "a lot of people."

Ah. Then he's worried.
Good. What else?

I've located Lisa Donato.
She's coming to see us.

WAVERLY Good.

I'd better get Mr. Solo out of there before
something unpleasant happens to him.

No, no, no.

When Solo gets into trouble,
that's when he starts getting results.

He might get a
very sick headache.

Relax, Mr. Kuryakin.

Mr. Solo is a very
highly-trained man.

Anything more?

Nothing more. Signing off.

Well, I really must,
uh, be going, inspector.

Could I have my
letters back, please?

Um. Well, in a day or two.

When we have finished
processing them.

That, uh, cooperation, remember?

A matter of protocol.

My superiors are sometimes
quite fussy about that sort of thing.

Ah, bravo, Solo.

Yes, I guess he's told
us all he's ever likely to.

Valetti, the basement.

I'll have Fiamma
bring him down there.

Get rid of the
body in the furnace.

It's strange that the Re-Collectors are so
much better at tracking down the Nazis...

than we are. FIAMMA: Ha.

Well...

Oh, you will excuse
me, Mr. Solo?

Mr. Solo, would you care
to have a glass of cognac?

You're very kind, thank you.

I think I can let you see the
secret files on the Re-Collectors.

- Would you like that?
- Yes, I'd like that.

I keep them in the
strongroom in the basement.

Uh, shall we?

I mustn't, uh, be too long. I
have a possible trump card to play.

- A trump card?
- Yes, someone I have to meet.

He claims he knows
where those paintings are.

An informer, eh.

- But, uh...
- In here?

- Let's make it short and sweet, shall we?
- Uh, no, wait.

Suppose...

Suppose you bring
this man to me.

If we interrogate
him together...

Just as soon as we're through here.
- No, that can wait.

Let's see that man first.

I'll send someone with you.

Sergeant?

Escort Mr. Solo
where he wants to go.

And show him the way back.

With an informer.

So?

Ciao.

So soon?

No. We have a problem.

- Where is he?
- Don't worry.

It's all under control.

There is an informer running around
who knows where the paintings are hidden.

But Solo is going to
bring him right back.

You fool. You let him go.

What? But, an informer.

We've got to find out who
he is and what he knows.

You fool! You absolute fool.

There was no informant. That was
just a trick to get out of the house.

You must have
given the game away.

Demos.

Demos, please. Time.

There was no time
to check with you.

Fiamma, you chose
to disobey my orders.

But... But that...

I... I didn't want to
arouse his suspicions.

I think your time has come too.

Demos.

Even when you're playing a part, it
pains me to see you with another man.

And all for nothing.

Get him for me, darling.

Bring Mr. Solo to the cellar.

I will.

Sergeant.

This is where the
informer is waiting.

Of course, if it turned out that
you really are a policeman...

I'd be in trouble, wouldn't I?

Signore?

They say that every Italian woman
loves a man in uniform, signorina.

A present for you.

Just obeying orders.

Mr. Waverly told
me to relax. Ah.

Oh, have, uh, you two met?

- Napoleon Solo. This is...
- Lisa Donato, I know.

Our tenuous
connection to Valetti.

Mm-hm. Well, suppose
you tell me just how tenuous.

Okay, I will.

Well, some time ago,
this man, Gregori Valetti...

told me that he knew I was the
legal owner of a famous painting.

Velázquez's Castilian Woman.

It's very valuable.

But the Nazis looted it...

from my grandfather's place
in Rome during the war...

and it just disappeared.

Valetti told me he could find it
for me if I gave him $100,000.

Did I have that kind of money?
I don't even have 50,000 lire.

That painting was the last of what
was once a very valuable estate.

You know, taxes, death duties.

Yes, I, uh, know.

So?

So I followed him to Madrid...

hoping to persuade him to find
my painting at a price I could afford.

I thought a gun might be
a sort of subtle argument.

But he got away. End of story.

Not quite.

We'll, uh, catch
him again, I'm sure.

That might not be so easy.

When we placed the ad...

we assumed that whoever
came looking for the replies...

would be picked
up for interrogation.

And so you were able to plant
some phony replies on them.

Well, aren't you clever?

We like to think so.

One of those phony
replies was this address.

Really quite simple.

Casting bread on the waters
to bring home the bacon.

An old, old house. Ghosts?

What the...?

Where the devil
did you come from?

Mr. Kuryakin. Forgive
the unorthodox entry.

But in my business, one needs
a certain aptitude for caution.

You mind telling me what you
want before I throw you out?

You wrote me a letter
asking me to see you.

- I did?
- Mm-hm.

Ah, the advertisement in
the Corriere. That was yours?

- Yes, that was mine.
- Ah, then that's different, isn't it? Uh.

Won't you sit down, Mr...?

- Valetti. Gregori Valetti.
- Excellent.

You're just the man I
want to see. Sherry?

But you couldn't have
heard my name anywhere.

Oh, but I have.

You approached my fiancée
some while back. You remember?

About a missing Velázquez,
the Castilian Woman.

Your fiancée? Lisa Donato?

Exactly.

You wanted $100,000 for
the recovery of the painting.

She doesn't have that
kind of money, but I do.

Now we're going to be married.

So when we saw the
advertisement in the paper...

I wrote to you giving you
the address of this place.

- You see?
- How very fortuitous.

A moment.

Honey, are you decent?

Of course, for $100,000, I'd
expect some sort of guarantee.

I need only remind
you of our reputation.

Well, I suppose that
will be good enough. Ah.

Oh, Mr. Valetti. How
nice to see you again.

Miss Donato.

I'm glad that you finally decided
to make use of our services.

- You still think you can find my painting?
- Oh, I know I can.

- One hundred thousand dollars?
- In advance.

Excuse me.

You know, it's a
great deal of money.

But what's money for if you can't
spread it around now and then?

- Ha, darling, you're so good to me.
- No, that's all right, darling.

As long as it makes you happy.

After all, it's only money.

Uh, thank you, Mr. Kuryakin. Ha.

Shall we say a month,
uh, five or six weeks?

We shall be here.

I must admit it takes
a special kind of

talent to spend $100,000
in 30 seconds flat.

Thank you for establishing
our bona fide for us.

Oh, don't try and
fire me, Mr. Solo.

They all wanna
hang on, don't they?

Well, in this case, it
may be an advantage.

Lisa, believe it or
not, is an art student.

And what would you tell
Valetti if he came back?

That I went on vacation?

Well, I must admit...

Uh-huh. Then, that's settled.

Illya, I think you're
going to have to stay

with her. She's going
to need a bodyguard.

But of course he'll stay
with me. He's my fiancé.

And you?

Work to be done.

Are we going to scream?

Just one thing.

Tell me where I can find that
charming rogue of a husband of yours.

Dead, Mr. Solo.

The price exacted by
Demos for letting you escape.

I'm sorry.

Demos, you, your late husband.

The Re-Collectors?

Does that change
your allegiance?

I want the man who
killed my husband.

There is, uh, nothing more sterile
than vengeance, Signora Fiamma.

Sterility is all that
is left for me now.

One question has
always bothered me.

Why is it that the Re-Collectors
announce their murders to the police?

Why do they wanna draw
attention to themselves?

We re-collect
paintings, Mr. Solo.

In that process,
sometimes people are killed.

But our victims
are war criminals...

to whose deaths is attached
very little public resentment.

By drawing attention to the fact that
the victims are criminals themselves...

Demos has always hoped to attract
less attention to his re-collecting.

That make sense. Where,
uh, do I find Demos?

In his wine cellar, always.

But you won't get it
easily. It's well defended.

If you have help, I
suggest you use it now.

No, no help. I'm essentially
a one-man operation.

Tell me about Karl Wenrepp.

He's the head of the Nazi group
that originally stole those paintings.

We have been looking
for him for a long time.

- And Gregori Valetti?
- A trained hunter.

The man we employ
to do our killings.

Hm.

So we have two groups.

The Nazi deserters,
headed by Karl Wenrepp...

and the Re-Collectors hunting
them down, headed by...?

Demos, who else?

You're very frank
with me, signora.

I told you.

I want the man who is responsible
for the death of my husband.

Get Demos for me, Mr. Solo.

Kill him.

You suggested I might have trouble getting
into the wine cellar. I might need help.

Whenever you do need help...

I will be waiting.

That's good.

Arrivederci.

- You all right?
- You're a lousy shot.

Yeah, I'm all right. I'll live.

- No, wait.
- I can get him.

Follow him, carefully.
Tell Valetti where he goes.

Well, the widow Fiamma
was certainly telling the truth...

about the fact that the
cellar is well guarded.

Did you say the widow Fiamma?

Yes, for letting me escape...

her husband was executed by
our wine-imbibing friend Demos.

I feel that she doesn't hold
him responsible for the murder.

Since I was indirectly the cause of
it, I think maybe she's gunning for me.

Something to think about.

Your friends are always
such complicated people.

She's a very attractive girl
and, I feel, extremely competent.

- Mr. Solo?
- No, thank you.

I'm always depressed when I see
competence reflected in a woman's face.

I feel a woman should be...

Well, an attractive woman should
be much more than just competent.

Well, she is, believe
me. A great deal more.

Illya, you like puzzles.

Work on this for a little while:

Why is it that half of the police forces
of Europe, and our own organization...

have been searching unsuccessfully
for the Nazis for 20 years?

And why have the
Re-Collectors been successful?

They found the paintings, they found
Rudolf Schultz, found Oscar Mannheim...

two of the men who stole them.

- How come?
- The answer is quite obvious, isn't it?

They know where to look.

Yes, it's obvious, but how
do they know where to look?

That's what we have
to find out, isn't it?

I...

What's that?

Get to the floor.

Outside, quickly.

Herak.

Where are the others?

Get her out of here.

What's the best
bet, the wine cellar?

Well, let's hope that's
where they've taken her.

- Let's hope we can get in there.
- Yeah.

Genevieve says she
can take me there.

We can't be sure that
she's ready to help.

Well, that's the chance
we'll have to take.

She said Valetti is their
executioner, and he's got Lisa.

There they are now.

A pretty girl in danger, it's all it
needs to lure a man to his death.

If the world were not full of fools, how
would honest criminals make a living?

- Are you sure nobody's here?
- Nobody's here, Mr. Solo.

I should have
known, shouldn't I?

Well done, my dear.

- Is he alone?
- He's alone.

I find your trust in women,
Mr. Solo, quite touching.

But for you, it's disastrous.

Where is your partner?

He's out there with your
bullet in him. He's hurt.

I wonder, should
we believe that?

With this man, believe nothing.

Where's Lisa Donato?

That is none of
your business now.

- Kill him.
- Wait.

Uh, aren't you afraid that I might pass
on my deductions to someone else...

uh, who might in turn put the
nonexistent Re-Collectors out of business?

Nonexistent?

Yes, it occurred to me how easy it
would be to locate those paintings...

if you already knew
where they were.

It also occurred to me...

that you were the only one who
knew where Rudolf Schultz was...

when everyone else
was looking for him.

And then Mannheim too.

Seemed to me to pose a puzzle.

And, uh, you have
come up with an answer?

No, but I've come up
with another question. Uh.

There were four Nazis involved
in the looting of the paintings.

Schultz, Mannheim...

Was Fiamma the third?

- And if so...
- If so, Mr. Solo?

If so, then the fourth
man, Karl Wenrepp...

probably was knocking off his
partners to get their share of the loot.

And then selling the pictures,
or at least the lesser ones...

back to the only people
who could legally buy them.

The original owners.

All in the name of the
discreetly-built-up Re-Collectors.

Who never really existed, except in Karl
Wenrepp's carefully-promoted publicity.

An idea I find more
intriguing than plausible.

Oh, red herrings always are.

By attracting attention
to the Re-Collectors...

you distracted attention from the
Nazis everyone was looking for.

Mr. Solo, if there was
ever hope for you...

you've just condemned
yourself to die.

Yes, I was afraid of that.

At least I know I
was right, though.

A little late, isn't it,
for much satisfaction?

Tell me where Lisa Donato is.

At least I'd die comfortably if I
knew she was in good hands.

And have you passed
on this information?

Well, that's an answer
that you'll have to find out.

And you'd better hurry.

Yes, I think I'd better had.

Your time has run out, Mr. Solo.

Thanks for hurrying.

The sleep will do
these two good.

What happened?

What happened to
Demos and the girl?

The door.

The last time this weapon was used,
it killed the great chevalier Bayard.

You see, my dear,
history lives on.

Only people die.

But how wonderful to be killed
with so historical a weapon.

- They are not worthy of it.
- You're wrong, my dear.

To protect all this, no weapon
could be more appropriate.

An arquebus. Hm.

Just one shot, Herr Wenrepp?

- Before you get that reloaded...
- I need only one shot, Mr. Solo.

How do you get this
thing to go back up again?

Don't wanna keep my
friend wait... Oh, yes.

Hi. How are you?

Oh, so this is the little lot that
you smuggled out of Germany. Hm?

What an imaginative way to
describe the world's finest art collection.

But you're an imaginative
man, aren't you, Mr. Solo?

Mm. Not really, just stubborn.

You got Mannheim's share of
the loot, next you got Schultz's...

finally, Fiamma.

Now you have all
of it, haven't you?

You never did really intend to give
back the Castilian Woman, did you?

Is this it?

Mm-hm.

It is beautiful.

Yes.

Too beautiful for the vulgar.

Look around you.

Perugino's Damnation.

Rembrandt's Dutch Cottage.

Correggio's Madonna.

And the Castilian Woman.

Some of the finest
masterpieces ever painted.

You think I'd let every
uneducated lout drool over them?

A great painting dies
a little, step by step...

with every uninformed
glance that falls upon it.

Did you know that?

If it is great, it has life.

And if it has life, it can die.

Did it ever occur
to you, Wenrepp...

that a lot of normal people
like great paintings too?

And now they're mine.

- Stand away from that painting.
- No, I think I'm much safer here.

I don't think you'll fire that
"blunderbus" in this direction.

It's pointed at Miss Donato.

My life for hers,
is that a fair trade?

No, it is not. The
stakes are too high.

Karl! Karl!

Karl, Karl.

Oh, Karl.

Oh, my darling.

Karl, I've loved you so much.

You have no memory for
your late husband, signora?

Fiamma? He was never my husband.

A part to play, no more.

All my life, one man. Only one.

And now he's gone.

No, he's not gone.
It's just a sleep dart.

He'll be well enough
soon to stand trial.

Well, it's all yours.

A million-dollar
Castilian Woman.

Will she die a little
if we watch awhile?

I think not.