Original subtitles

You have one new message.

Roddy, it's me.

I don't expect you to forgive me, but at least hear me out.

I swear, I didn't know what was going to happen, and I was so scared.

I don't know what to do and where to go.

Call me. Please.

Listen to her.

Whoever hears that phone call knows that she's innocent.

And if she has done anything, it was done under duress.

I agree.

You do?

I do, but no one else in this building does.

That's why they sent me.

Yeah. Well, what makes you different?

I can hear the love, and the conflict, and the regret in her voice.

I recognize it because I've been that person.

Are you saying you're in love with me too?

No. I'm saying I once worked undercover.

Honey trapper?

- Yeah. - Yeah.

Yeah, that's where I'd deploy you.

So I can tell when it's real and when it's not.

Like Tara, I fell in love when I shouldn't have fallen in love.

And that blew my cover.

Did this really happen to Flyte?

She's playing him, isn't she?

I put my target, the person I honey trapped, in danger,

and I did the right thing for them.

I brought them in.

And that's what you need to do for Tara.

If you care about her, call her, and let us find her and protect her.

She's in no danger from us.

Like you said, she's done nothing wrong.

But she is in danger from the people that tried to kill you.

They won't forgive her like you have.

We need to hold her on the line for two minutes

so that we can trace the location of the call.

That way we can find her and make sure that she's safe.

- Roddy? - Tara.

Oh, my God, Roddy.

Thank God you're safe. I didn't want anything to happen to you.

They promised they wouldn't hurt you. They…

I'm just so sorry.

You don't need to apologize to me.

The people who used you,

they're the ones you should feel sorry for.

Because they're gonna get invited to a hoedown,

and that's a dance you don't walk away from.

You forgive me?

There's nothing to forgive.

But I gave them your address. I lied to you.

No. No, you had to.

Just next time, come to me, yeah?

Come to your Rodzilla.

They said if I told anyone anything about them,

they would kill me, and that they can get to me anywhere.

I'm just lost, baby. Where do I go?

You need to listen to me, okay?

Always.

I will find you no matter where you go.

And I mean that in the romantic sense.

Like Daniel Day-Lewis in The Last of the Mohicans,

not Ricardo Montalban in The Wrath of Khan.

Okay.

Hang up. Don't use this phone again. They're trying to trace you.

I used to work here, remember?

And I know it only takes a minute to trace a phone call.

Since you left, we can do it in thirty seconds.

When you two knobheads went to Tara's address,

did you check out any of the surrounding properties?

No. Why?

- Yeah? - Yeah.

Got a package for upstairs, but there's no one answering.

Can I buzz it inside the door?

Across the capital, London News, on the hour, every hour.

London Mayor Zafar Jaffrey

had this to say about his son's involvement

in what the police is referring to as "fuel tampering."

Obviously I can't comment on an ongoing investigation,

but I would like to make clear that online chatter…

Go for the greatest hits.

You've turned this city into something Londerful.

Gimball seeks to set it back.

And don't say he refuses to debate you. Say he won't have a conversation with you.

I need to mention Irfan.

It's a home crowd. They won't expect it.

No. He's my son. He's probably going to jail.

It's a terrible thing for me as a father.

I can't just pretend it isn't happening.

I mean, I'll look detached and afraid.

Okay. Okay. So let's use what you were saying before.

You're proud of your son's stance and passion, if not his methods.

Good. Yeah.

Use some of the emotion that I'm genuinely feeling.

Stoke the sympathy.

I know that sounds cynical but that's the game.

Gimball will certainly use Irfan against me.

- Jesus. - What?

What now?

God. That's terrible.

Now Gimball will say that Irfan's got blood on his hands.

Fucking Irfan.

Does he want me to lose?

- I'll deal with this. - Just tell Gimball Irfan is off limits.

Fuck.

What the…

What the f…

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Fuck.

Yeah. Just one… Come in.

Fuck.

- Hello. - Hello, sir.

Here are the full unredacted background files on Jaffrey and Gimball.

Thank you so much. I should've done this ages ago.

I've just been so busy because it's a busy… job.

Right. Thank you very much.

Thank you, sir.

Right.

Right.

Wanna play dirty?

I can play dirty too.

This once great city is suffering from a plague again.

Only this time it's not a plague of rats.

No, no. This time it's a plague of illegal immigrants.

Well, I will not let these rats gnaw away at the rigging of our national identity.

Come on. That's not good enough.

Well, well, well.

To what do we owe this unexpected displeasure?

May I come in?

Of course.

I assume you're here to apologize.

Shoes off. If you don't mind.

You didn't ask if my husband was at home.

No.

No. In my line of work, one tends to know where people are.

It's a perk of the job.

Would you be so good as to inform your husband I wish to see him?

I'll see if he's free to receive you.

Thank you.

Come up.

She's not here.

How did you get out of Slough House?

- Much like you did. Through the door. - Devon?

Well, she refused to act on some intel.

So I broke out and sent my guys to deal with it.

- Should I be worried? - About my guys dealing with it? Yeah.

It's clear.

Yeah, well, of course it is, you knucklehead.

I didn't just come in and put me feet up.

How did you find this place?

Well, Tara gave a fake address as 34 Priory Place.

I figured she wouldn't have wanted to walk far.

So I came to number 43.

She's not a professional,

and the large amount of takeaway boxes in the bin outside

told me someone had…

Don't they… Don't they teach you this shit?

How did you know that we were coming here?

Ho called.

Guess he spooked her.

Well, he told her we were tracing the call.

But you expected that.

He's convinced she's an innocent coerced into turning on him

but love held out.

Which, to be fair, tracks with how she was on the call.

Come on. Cheer up.

Why? I've lost her.

Yeah. She'll be at the one place she thinks no one will look.

Roddy Ho's flat.

Surely that's the last place she'd go.

No. Trust me. I feel it in my chakra.

Plus, before she left, she called for a taxi.

I called them back, and they gave me the address.

Like I said, not a professional.

Come on.

Not even a thank you?

I assume I can't ride with you, so I'll follow on at my own pace.

No, thanks.

I'm sure you can understand why I don't trust you.

What, unconscious bias?

Look, I just wanna insulate Slough House from whatever the fuck is going on.

So as far as finding out exactly what that is, we're on the same side.

Fine. But you only observe.

I said five. It's been ten.

Go on then.

Let the bastard crawl in.

My husband will see you now.

Mr. Whelan can't stay for tea,

but he's just dropped by to apologize, darling.

About time.

Actually, I'm not here to apologize for anything.

What about your smears against my husband

- and your sexism against me? - I'm…

I'm like the opposite of a sexist.

You excluded me from a meeting.

That was classified.

You just don't like a strong woman.

I do, actually.

Although,

it's not altogether how I'd describe you.

If you came here to beg me not to run the story,

well, I'm sorry to break it to you, but it's not going very well.

But I'm not here to beg you for anything.

I'm here to tell you how it's going to be.

You're going to withdraw this spurious article about my personal life

that has no place in the public domain.

You're in love with a prostitute.

I struck up a conversation…

a friendship with a rather lovely waitress.

Whatever we happened to do in our own time is our own business.

Business is the word.

- She was a prostitute. - No. She wasn't, actually. No.

She was… an escort.

Going to be an escort to pay for her university fees.

So I paid her university fees so she doesn't need to be an escort.

But you still paid a call girl who, incidentally, you were also boffing.

Honestly, did you think I'd come in here

if I didn't have a nuclear bomb in my pocket?

Yes. Because tonight, Dennis Gimball…

this is your life. Yes.

Dennis Gimball. Only…

Only, you weren't born Dennis Gimball, were you?

Were you?

No. No, you weren't.

You were born Dennis Özil.

To a Welsh mother and a Turkish father.

One Yusuf Özil.

Your father, as you may recall, was here illegally,

working as a waiter.

Your mother, Denise, was a masseuse.

One can only imagine how they met.

Now, sadly, in 1961, she gave you up for adoption

when your father was arrested,

convicted, and sent to prison for GBH.

Now, obviously, as you can imagine, none of this is a problem for me.

At all, you know. I couldn't care less really.

But we both know that it's going to be a very big problem for your supporters

when they find out that your father was an illegal immigrant and a criminal.

You've gone awfully quiet, Dodie.

Let's use this little pause to remind ourselves about your university boyfriend,

who was Chairman of the Marxist Society, if you can credit it.

And how, when he dumped you,

you had him thrown out of university by planting cocaine on him.

Now, anymore crap from either of you two

and I will see to it the security services destroys you

and your god-awful livelihoods in public.

Do I make myself clear? Do I?

Well, you know, that's…

that's great. Fucking great.

I'll see myself out.

Dennis.

I don't hold it against you that you once dated a Marxist.

I was a young woman, no more than a girl.

He groomed me.

I did what I had to do to get away from him.

And I will see to it the security services

destroys you and your god-awful livelihoods in public.

See? Got him on tape trying to blackmail us.

Is it true?

Does it matter?

I've written several columns about how the Turks are the mongrels of Europe.

So yes, it does fucking matter!

You're going to blow his head off on stage.

They're not going to let you just walk out of there.

Why are you assuming the worst?

Even if they capture me, you and Kamal will continue.

Okay.

Fuck.

This is fucked. They all look like murderers.

There's no police outside either.

It's not ideal when there's a death squad after you.

Am I just talking to myself?

And it certainly is a very impressive turnout

here today at Conway Hall.

All right. Let's check sight lines.

It's an auditorium and a stage, so it's one big sight line.

You are on.

Good.

Now, they're gonna want cover and an exit.

Maybe they'll kill him before he gets on stage.

Frank, why are you still letting them in? There's too many.

Well, at least the security team are top notch.

It's gonna be from up there.

- Dressing room. - No, no, no, that's too private.

They're gonna want to make a statement.

Everything else they've done has been on a big canvas.

What?

Earlier, you were very dismissive of me.

- Now you think there's a conspiracy. - Okay, fine. Yeah.

You were right and I was wrong. Okay?

But I'm telling you, if it's gonna be from anywhere,

- it's gonna be from-- - Dressing room.

Yeah, you go and check where it's not gonna happen.

The boxes above the stage are unguarded.

I think that's too much of a giveaway to be real.

Yeah, but can you just come up here and back me up.

That is how this normally works, Coe.

Dressing room.

Dick.

Excuse me. Excuse me.

Excuse me.

- Fuck! - Don't shoot.

Take it.

Fuck's sake. Fuck.

Shit!

Pardon me, but I do like to open a door for a lady.

No.

No, no, no. No, I'm not safe.

No.

You let us flush her out.

Well, you fucked up and I saved the day.

By way of a thank you, I'd like to sit in on the debrief.

You're supposed to still be in lockdown, remember?

Just go let my guys out of Slough House, and I'll see what Taverner says.

Well, she'll say that, what's her name,

Welles and co need to clear out their lockers.

At least my lot fuck up on an epic scale.

They're not just run-of-the-mill fuckups like yours.

Come on.

Do we really need to sit through his speech?

It'll be bland, but inoffensive.

Hold this.

We haven't got you down.

I got a call from maintenance.

Lights in the ladies toilets. Broken.

Why can't maintenance fix it?

They said they didn't have the lights.

Look.

They have already paid me,

so it doesn't bother me if you won't let me in.

But if the lights go, ladies will be going in the dark.

Okay. Open the bag, please.

Okay. Fine.

Should we be worried?

He had the same boots as the ones in the CCTV from the van.

Combat boots?

- Yeah, I know. It's mad. - Not necessarily.

I mean, someone was trying to kill Roddy.

You must trust your feelings, Shirley.

All right. Calm down. It's not fucking Star Wars.

Just fixing a light, and he got searched.

Where are you?

Dressing room.

Is Gimball there?

Coe?

Hello?

Coe?

- Thanks, Andrew. - He's just arriving.

I'll keep eyes on him here.

Okay, you stay with him. I'll watch the crowd.

Right. Come on, Dennis. It's showtime.

Friends, Londoners, countrymen, lend me your vote.

It's time for change.

Let me tell you, it's time for change.

This city is in chaos.

Poisoned from the top down.

The mayor…

The mayor's son is a terrorist

who blew up cars and killed a woman, but this rot is national.

Is the light working okay in there?

Yeah, why?

Yes?

There's nothing wrong with the toilet light.

Oh, God.

I'm gonna look from upstairs. Stop Jaffrey getting on stage.

- It's too late. - Get him off it then.

- London is… - Londerful!

- London is… - Londerful!

Londerful!

Everyone, thank you.

All right.

London isn't Somali.

London isn't Polish.

Gypsies, Travellers, of course.

Actually, the French.

Europeans, all Europeans.

London isn't Bengali.

London isn't even Irish,

despite what our friends in Kilburn would have us believe.

Oh, yeah, that's a keeper.

Tonight was supposed to be a dialogue.

A polite exchange of views.

Two distinct visions for the future of this great city.

But, instead, we find ourselves mourning and more divided than ever.

But I've got news for you.

I've got news for our opponents too.

In fact, I've got news for the whole world.

We are taking our city back.

Vikram Acharya, he came to this country in 1968.

He made his home in this city.

He was a much loved and valued member of the party.

Gave his life for it.

For the dream of a Londerful city.

We will never give in to hate.

Love and hate are on the ballot this election. Vote love.

The woke elite need to wake up and realize,

London is British.

But I'm not. I'm not.

Fucking hell. Fuck.

I now propose that we stand for a minute's silence in memory

of Vikram Acharya and the ten other people who lost their lives yesterday.

London is a family.

But let me say a few words about my own family.

I agree with my son's goals.

Who doesn't want a greener planet?

But that doesn't mean I approve of his methods.

He's an adult.

It's not for me to discipline him. That duty is with the courts.

But if the failings of my generation

have led him and his generation to such extreme action,

then we have to hold up our hands and do better.

Whatever the outcome, Irfan, I love you.

And I will never turn you away.

What is London?

- Well, sorry, New York… - Hey!

…only the greatest city in the world.

Why do you hate motorists, you wanker.

- You're okay. - Get back.

Please evacuate the building.

Please evacuate the building.

Please evacuate the building.

Please evacuate the building.

Please evacuate the building.

Please evacuate the building.

Move! Move! Out the way!

Come on, you've been down before.

Maybe they'll never find out.

Of course they're gonna fucking find out, you moron.

Gimball. I asked you for a face to face.

- Not now. - Yes, now.

Irfan killed a little old lady. That's a gift.

Listen, mate, let's leave families out of this, all right?

Come on, pal. The mayor's murderous son is just too good a target to pass up.

Actually that's rather good, isn't it? The Mayor's Murder…

Mayor's Murderous Son.

Mr. Gimball, that's low. Even for you.

Come on. As if you wouldn't use it if it was the other way around.

It's electoral fucking kryptonite.

- We've never attacked your family. - Well, why would you?

No murderers in my family.

And how do your family feel about you?

Are your parents proud of you?

Don't mention my parents.

You calling the mayor's son a murderer is dangerous.

Anything?

- That innocent woman died… - He's getting into it with a man

- outside the stage door. - That's a fact.

Irfan could go to prison.

Your talk will get him hurt.

Well, you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?

Listen, I'm trying to get through to you.

Sounds to me like you're trying to threaten me.

Your lot always revert to type.

- My lot? - Yeah.

You can't wait to give in to your animal passion.

Fucking disgrace.

What are you doing?

Who the fuck are you?

MI5, dickhead.

What?

Coe! Fucking help me!

Who the fuck is that?

Coe!

- Fucking calm down, all right? - What the fuck?

Yeah, fuck off, Bowman.

Fuck.

Sorry about that. Man's an absolute idiot.

Thanks for your help.

Good to see the bulldog spirit's alive in the younger generation.

I'm MI5, and there's been a threat to your safety.

Yeah, probably for you, doing the deep state's dirty work.

Do fuck off.

Gimball!

What did you just do?

I just came down the ladder. What did you just do?

He was…

Yeah, he really is dead, isn't he?

I think this is recording.

Yeah, he really is dead, isn't he?

I think this is recording.

Should we…

Yeah.