Original subtitles

Got a call to go to a car park under some flats.

Near the Edgware Road? - Yeah.

You said it wasn't the car that killed him.

So how'd he die?

Rebecca, how'd he die?

When I got there, he was already there.

No, we didn't.

Yes, you did. You spiked my vodka with vodka.

- Right. - Be careful, okay?

Look before you make turns.

Uh, one of them was holding him up on his bike.

No, I'll be fine once I get going.

He was fine. He was drunk or maybe taking something.

Then, uh, another one...

...started choking him.

This third guy got in my car and hit him.

Uh, there was a guy watching. He left.

Get a good look at him?

Huh, then what?

He was still alive, but he was in a bad way.

So the third guy, the one that choked him, he...

He finished him off.

How?

What'd he look like?

Big, fifties, shaved head.

Fucking terrifying.

Then they put him and his bike in the back of a van.

They drove to where he was found.

Then they told me to call an ambulance

and say your friend cycled out in front of me.

- The two that ran him over. - Yeah.

- You've seen them before? - Yeah.

Uh, well, I've couriered for that one.

Don't ask me what. I don't look.

- All right. The one lurking. Is that him? - Maybe. I don't know.

I don't know.

Didn't get a good look at him. - All right.

- And this is who killed him? - Yeah, that's him.

The language school where you collected the money,

is that the, uh, usual pickup?

No, it's new.

Was anyone there when you collected it?

No, they gave me a key

and told me to put it through the letter box after.

All right. Thank you, Rebecca.

You said you'd keep me safe if I told you everything.

Okay. Here.

Uh. I'm gonna give you a number for a service.

Is it a safe house?

New identity? You know I'll need money.

They answer with a rotating cover, changes every month.

Just give them the name "Jackson Lamb,"

and when they ask you what you want, you say number seven.

Number seven.

That's it. And they should be with you in about half an hour.

All right.

Hello?

Hi, I was told to call this number by Jackson Lamb.

- He told me to ask for number seven. - Can you hold, please?

Yeah, I'll hold.

- Do you want his favorite? - Sorry. What?

Number seven.

Uh. Uh, I don't understand.

Number seven's Mr. Lamb's favorite, double noodles.

Do you want his sides with that?

Nothing's left outside, is it?

Definitely looks like rain.

- Is no one going to eat? - No...

I feel self-conscious

- with all of you just watching me. - Mmm.

Well, have you come far then, Leo?

Not that Alex's excellent cooking isn't worth traveling for, of course.

I had some business in Worcester.

This is a small detour on my way back to London.

He's always been like this, dropping in and out.

- Yeah. - Take him when we can get him.

Mm-hmm.

How about you, Mr. Walker? You're from around here?

No. No, no. I'm a journalist.

I'm here, um, doing a small piece on village life.

Mmm.

Uh, yeah. Kelly's been very kindly showing me around.

Mm-hmm, I have.

So, you're undercover?

No. Not undercover, no. No.

I don't think I've got the nerve for that kind of thing.

What big story will you find? This is a very sleepy village.

- You find all sorts behind the curtains. - Mmm.

Right.

But I bet you're pulling them back for him.

Oh. - She's a very nosy woman.

- Excuse me. - You can say that again.

No. In a good way.

What have you discovered so far?

Uh, well, that I'm not as good a flier as I first thought.

Either that or Kelly's not as good a pilot as she thought.

I think you were right the first time.

Um. But no, I've been hearing all about the village gossip.

And, um... And the poacher.

- Dangerous business, poaching. - Mmm.

Yeah, it is.

Does he use traps or guns? Or poison?

Depends on the animal.

Well, this has taken a rather bleak turn.

Coffee anyone? - Yes, please.

Right, okay. - Shall I, um...

No, no. You're a guest. Sit down. - Oh.

Okay, Kelly, would you mind just bringing those strawberries out?

Mm-hmm.

- Okay. - Excuse me.

A word of warning, my friend.

Alex makes disgusting coffee.

Hello. Um, can I get a-a-a vodka tonic, please?

- Sure. - Thank you.

Hello.

Hi.

- Oh. Sorry, mate. - You're all right.

You have reached the Westbrook Academy of English Language.

Please leave your name and number

and we'll get back to you shortly. Thank you.

Pick up, Mr. Lamb.

Your answer message is the only professional thing

in this shithole.

You are trying to deflect your unease with humor?

Too proud to ask how I know you are there?

I'm guessing 'cause you're watching me.

Although given your situation,

you might find better things to do with your time.

Such as?

Bona fide medical treatment for a start. Google says it's your liver.

Seven months ago, they said six months.

Injury time now.

But the question is, Nikky,

what kind of injury are you planning on doing?

After I defected,

my former bosses made clear

that they would take no retribution.

Provided that one day, if asked, I would help. And they asked.

What was the nature of their request?

I'm just a small cog, Mr. Lamb.

I was simply told to keep you looking in one place

while they do something in another.

Fuck!

You hack that watch?

All I had to do was open the fitness app.

Upstairs. Now!

You seem, um, I don't know, a bit tense.

Just wondering why you're here.

Oh. Now you're being defensive. - Should I be?

Well, I am MI5.

Oh. Hmm. - You already knew that.

So all our cards are now on the table.

Mine are. Are yours?

I'm not exactly sure what you want me to say.

The Heathrow CCTV.

It turns out Chernitsky never left the country.

Did you hear me?

Chernitsky never left the country. I know that.

How?

Because he murdered Harper.

I spoke to the driver, Rebecca Mitchell.

Only she wasn't driving.

Pashkin's security ran Harper over

before Chernitsky delivered the coup de grâce.

Pashkin?

He... He... He tapped him like he tapped Dickie.

He's got some poison thing going on like he's Rosa fucking Klebb.

When the Park finds out, they'll pull the operation. We'll never get them.

Mmm. That's why I'm not telling them.

Taverner will save face

by sweeping the whole bloody thing under the rug.

Those fuckers will be deported, and their names scrubbed

from every flight manifest from here to Yakutsk.

They killed two of my joes. It's not happening.

Do we tell Louisa?

Yeah. Well, I would if she would answer her fucking phone.

So, how long have you worked for Nevsky? - Coming up to five years.

And before that? What, guessing still at school?

Well, Nevsky saw something in me when I was very young.

What was that? - Hunger.

Uh, the people he had around him were lazy.

So did you just roll in and... and get rid of them?

Well, they got rid of themselves.

But, uh, that's what happens when successful people come along. No?

Well, I wouldn't know.

Ah, come on. You're MI5. That is very successful.

Oh, yeah, I'm not... not typical MI5.

I'm kind of in internal exile,

in a department where they put all the undesirables.

Well, I find that hard to believe.

Cute, but I... I am undesirable in their eyes.

Why?

It's not a moment I wish to revisit.

So why don't you quit?

Because I don't want that to be the end of my story.

I don't want to die in Slough House like my boss will.

And I don't wanna die

before I have a chance to get out like Min.

Min?

Min Harper. My colleague who died.

Of course. I'm sorry.

Yeah, thanks. Me too.

It was an accident. He was cycling drunk.

Hard to believe. Just wasn't like him.

Forgive me. I was told he swerved straight into a car.

Some poor woman never saw him coming.

Yeah.

You don't believe it?

When an agent dies, everything has to be considered.

But yes, in this case, it was just a stupid accident.

Why did they kill Min?

To be determined.

Reporting for duty.

The lovely Rebecca Mitchell picked up a payment

for taking part in Harper's murder at, uh, Katinsky's language school.

This connects to Katinsky?

He wanted me watching his school whi... while something else was going down.

What?

I'm hoping this herbert can help me with that.

What's on the watch?

Min was the only person in the world who had all six Spin Doctors albums.

Before I break your neck,

was there anything out of the ordinary about his last movements?

Oh. In the morning he cycled from Gordon Square to Edgware Road.

He stopped at an industrial estate on the way behind the Euston Road.

And back to Edgware Road in the evening

before he headbutted that car in St. Pancras.

All right. I want addresses for every place he stopped

for more time than it took to gasp for breath.

I can brute force his phone too if you like.

Strip it for data? Send you everything but the nudes.

You got five seconds

before I brute force your arse down those fucking stairs.

What can I be doing while you're gone?

I don't know.

Whatever it is you normally do when I'm not here.

And if you're gonna be a martyr, put that back in the bottle.

I must go back to my room and check-in with Nevsky. Um...

But give me 20 minutes, and join me if you like.

We can have a drink on the terrace.

Thank you for the drinks. - My pleasure.

Sadly, guys, I'm going to have to leave.

- Aw, no. Stay the night. - Stay. Have another one.

No. Sorry for that. Can't be helped. I have work in the morning.

- Oh. - Leo.

Oh, thank you.

I really think I have seen you somewhere before.

No. No. I'd definitely remember you.

Oh, maybe I saw you in passing.

But you know, I have a thing for faces.

I will sit and watch someone on a train or on a bus.

Try and imagine their lives.

When were you last on a bus?

- Last week. - Oh, yes?

Yes, because your shitty British trains were broken down.

Yeah, what's new? - That's it.

Maybe see you again. Either in London or here.

- Maybe. Good to meet you. - Yeah.

Well, time to go.

Right. Well, what a shame. Let's take you.

What's going on?

Nothing. What do you mean?

Leo seemed to know you.

No. No. I think he's just, um, he's just confusing me with someone else.

Ah, you take care. - Kelly, come say goodbye.

Right. And the jibe about being undercover?

See you, Leo. Great to see you, mate. - Thank you. See you.

Yeah. - Kelly!

Coming.

Wait here.

- All right, take care, darling. - Yeah! Next time I stay longer.

- Yes, do. - Yeah.

Now drive safe.

Bye, Leo.

Yeah, and give us a bit more notice next time.

Oh, stop it.

Bye, Leo.

- Stay well. - Drive safe.

- Bye. - Bye.

What the fuck?

Bye.

- That's an impressive model. - Uh, yes it is.

Uh. One in a thousand.

Excuse me?

Containers. Yeah. One in a thousand carrying illegal goods.

Floating all over the world. Unregulated. - Okay.

Guns, drugs,

even human beings, if you can believe that.

Anything that will make the fuckers money.

But for such a network to exist, insiders are needed at every step.

People willing to, uh, you know, take some cash and look the other way.

I don't know what you're, uh...

Yesterday a-a package was picked up from here by a couple of Russians.

I need to know exactly what was inside. - I wasn't here then.

Do I look like I give a fuck?

If anything's gone on, it's nothing to do with me.

Oh, it's everything to do with you because you're the one standing there.

You a policeman?

Uh, that's for you to work out.

You see, either way...

if I make a call...

it's not gonna be good for you.

I can do a search on packages from the last few days.

Yeah, good idea.

Try Thursday. 11:03 a.m.

Uh, there was a pickup. Small item. Uh, wait.

There are no details at all.

Uh, I can't tell you what it was. All the details have been wiped.

Meet me at Nevsky's.

What do you mean when?

How about we start with right f-fucking now and go from there.

If this is a telemarketing call, you're in for a world of trouble.

I need you to track my service phone.

River? - My service phone.

I put it in Chernitsky's pocket. It's got tracking enabled.

Just tell me where he is. Hurry.

Come on, Roddy. Come on. - Wait a second, it's loading.

Yeah, well...

...if you could be just a smidge quicker, Roddy,

that would be very much appreciated.

Okay, it's moving down Ridgeway Drive. - I don't know where that is.

- Where are you? - The Downside Man pub.

The B192 moving Northwest.

Just pulled off onto a smaller road, Barn Lane.

You need to go left onto... - Yeah, I know where he's going.

Yeah, you're welcome.

Jon!

Hello. Is that Victor Krymov?

Good evening. My name is Catherine Standish

and I'm calling in regard to, uh, some consultation work you conducted,

uh, for an IO named James Webb.

That's correct.

The reason I'm calling is that, uh,

we seemed to have found a gap in our records.

We don't have your signed, uh, official Secrets Act document.

No, that's perfect. No, no, I can meet you there.

Okay, thank you. Goodbye.

So, Pashkin's boss lives here?

Yeah. Nevsky. Pokey little bedsit, isn't it?

And Spider's hoping to put the top brass together

with Nevsky at some point.

That's his plan.

But that boy would be out of his depth in a fucking puddle.

What are we doing here, if you don't mind my asking?

Staking out Nevsky's.

One of the Russians who popped up on our 30-year-old radar screen

went to very elaborate ends to make sure that I went to Point A

while his comrades went to Point who-the-fuck-knows-where.

Mmm. That's fucking horrible.

There's six cameras pointed at the road.

Huh.

We should be having our prostates exfoliated

by a couple of calloused Russian fingers by now.

Yeah, it looks like the door is open.

You want to run over there and take a look inside?

No, you're all right, thanks.

Fine. You're fired. Fuck off.

Well, won't I get fired for breaking and entering?

If I'm not shot by his ex-Spetsnaz guards.

The reason I picked you is because I thought you were the only one of my team

with a decent pair of bullocks. Obviously, I was wrong.

You weren't wrong.

And what you just said is highly offensive.

In here.

Fuck.

Shh.

- That's Nevsky. - Stay back!

S... Stay back.

He didn't go that way from the fucking tanning bed.

What? He's radioactive?

Yeah. That's why they left the Geiger counter.

To let him know that what they pumped into his veins wasn't vitamin B12.

Well, why did they shoot him then?

Oh, he did that. Probably didn't fancy four days of fucking agony.

And the thumb?

I don't know.

Maybe they made their getaway by hitching.

Let's get out of here

before we start coughing up our kidneys too.

Here. Give me that.

Who the fuck did this?

Pashkin's men.

I thought Pashkin worked for Nevsky?

I don't know who he's fucking working for.

Those fuckers did this right under our noses.

How did the Park miss it?

The package those goons picked up was moved through the ports.

Well, don't they check the ports?

Well, they scan what they can,

but 95% of all containers gets through sight unseen.

They'd have sent multiple packages knowing at least one would get through.

Aren't you worried?

About what?

We were in there quite a while.

Yeah, terrified.

Hmm.

Back home, treating a man of the cloth with such negligence

would get you excommunicated.

And treating royalty like that would get you shot.

Victor Krymov? Catherine Standish.

Miss Standish, please sit.

I hope I'm not interrupting anything.

On the contrary.

Just saved the life of high-ranking royal.

I suppose a celebration is in order.

Tell me, uh, is this standard operating procedure?

No, it was on my way home.

Uh, is that so?

Once you've signed it, I'm afraid I'll also need

some clarification on a few of your statements.

Where did you say you worked?

I work in the Service.

Okay.

You want me to sign this, fine. I signed it once in front of Mr. Webb.

I will sign it again for you.

Thank you. So...

when you brokered a meeting with Arkady Pashkin and James Webb,

you, um... you said you could vouch for Pashkin.

How do you know him?

You usually work behind a desk?

You can learn a lot from sitting behind a desk.

So, what you have learned about me?

That you trade in information.

Quite so, quite so. Do you want to trade?

I have story about Pashkin.

I'm sure you have a story about yourself,

or someone you work with, that would interest me.

Drink?

No, thank you. I don't drink.

Basic field training will tell you that social drinking

is an easy way of softening up a target.

No, really. I can't, I'm sorry.

Yes, you can. - No, I can't.

Yes, you can.

I have a problem with alcohol.

Well, you sound like you have a story.

A fair trade.

Why would you be interested in my story?

Because anything I learn about someone

in the employ of the British Secret Service

may be of use later.

You're asking me to give you something that could be used against the Service?

Okay, maybe it won't be of use. That's your gamble.

But it's the only way you are going to get what you want.

Okay, you can see yourself out.

Take your signed document, and leave me to play chess

and drink and gossip till breakfast.

This...

This gave me a confidence I didn't have. It made me feel more like me.

I had fun. A lot of fun. I thought I was living my life.

When I started pouring vodka on my cornflakes,

I knew that the fun had gone.

In its place was chaos. I wasn't me anymore.

I was stuck in a game where I always lost, and I wasn't getting anywhere.

I was convinced I was hiding it ever so well,

but it started to affect my work.

And rather than sacking me, my boss paid for me to get help.

No one had ever shown me such consideration before.

A knight in shining armor.

If you like. - Your prince.

No. No.

But then I started to live my life. So, I paid him back in kind.

I... I bought food for him,

I arranged his flowers, I arranged his life.

Until one day...

He let you down. As everyone does. Your knight turned out to be a knave.

No, he moved on to other things.

I try to live up to what he would expect of me, but, um...

...it's hard without him.

So, uh... You are enthralled to a ghost.

This man, uh, he also worked for the Service?

Your turn.

What are the details about you and Arkady Pashkin?

Okay.

I know Pashkin because we swim in the same waters.

He is a roving fixer of Ilya Nevsky.

He knew I had done business with MI5,

so he asked me to make contact.

For what, I don't know.

That's what you said to James Webb.

There is the trade, like for like.

You gave me your pawn. You can't expect my rook.

If you want my rook, you will have to give me your knight

and two of your pawns.

You're not being fair. - No, I'm not.

Now scurry back behind your desk.

You are too naïve for this work.

- If you please, I have another game. - Fine.

What?

I've just spoken to the man who connected Pashkin with Webb.

Victor Krymov?

What you wasting your time with him for?

- What, you know him? - Of course, I do.

I wouldn't trust him to tell me the time if we were standing in front of Big Ben.

He insists he's known Pashkin for years, but he's reluctant to go into details.

Well, he'd have run rings around ya.

And his story's a crock of shit.

He'd have been paid to lie that Pashkin works for Nevsky.

How do you know he doesn't?

Because Nevsky's been murdered, likely by Pashkin's goons.

What?

I'm sure Krymov knows more, but he'll have to wait.

I'm still trying to work out what the fuck Katinsky wants.

Do you want me to try again?

No, I-I want you to go home and stop playing Mata Hari.

It's just me. It's Marcus. It's Marcus.

Open your bag. Open your bag. - What the fuck are you doing?

Did you just follow me? - Yeah, and you'll be glad I did as well.

You were gonna kill Pashkin? - No, I was gonna torture him

and then kill him. - What the fuck are you thinking?

Min tried to follow them... - Mm-hmm.

...ended up dead. Pashkin killed him.

It's been looked into. It was an accident.

I do... I'm sorry, I just don't buy it.

That's because yo... - No, don't.

Don't say I'm-I'm in fucking shock, or whatever you're about to say.

Sure. Yeah, you seem really chilled right now.

He is hiding something, Marcus.

That is why he sat down with me.

He wanted to see if I was on to him. - This is insane.

- He's... His watch ticks. - Yeah, it's a watch.

He's a fricking fraud. - What?

His watch ticks.

Watches like that, they don't tick, they sweep. That's what you pay for.

You want to murder a guy for having a fake watch?

- What? - Yeah, I've got Louisa.

Look, she was just about to drug and kill Pashki...

Hey, give him to me. Yeah, hi.

Pashkin is a fake. I don't know what his game is, but he is not real.

He killed Min.

N-No, no. He didn't kill Min, but I have no doubt he ordered it.

I'm pretty sure he was there. He had Nevsky killed too.

Nevsky's dead? - What?

Yes, and I don't want any more bodies tonight.

Which is why I had Longridge follow you.

I could literally take him right now and question him.

Or he could take you.

As much as I love the idea of you going all Ilsa, She Wolf of the SS on him,

he's Russian and he might not crack.

So, I want you to stand down

and go to that meeting tomorrow like nothing is wrong.

Sorry, you want me to go to a meeting with the man that had Min killed

and the men who did it, and do nothing?

Look, right now, I am going out of my way to avenge the death of Dickie Bough,

a man I didn't even like.

So, you can imagine what I'm gonna do to the person who murdered Min Harper,

a man who I at least tolerated.

So, what are you going to do?

I'm going to go and have a word with the enemy.

- What, the Russians? - Fuck, no.

The Park.

I need to know if I got played by a Moscow Centre cipher clerk

or someone else.

And I don't need any distractions from you.

So, I want you to stand down, and that's an order.

Okay, gents. Let's turn around nice and slowly.

What the fuck are you doing here, Katinsky?

- Are you crazy? - Shut up.

Ah, so we're gonna blow something up then, are we, gents?

Is that the plan?

Is that what you were gonna use Duncan for?

- Jon? - Alex.

W-What are you doing here? Where is Duncan? Alex?

Why have you got a gun?

- Alex, call the police. - No, Jon. Why...

Why have you got a gun?

Just call the police. I'm an MI5 officer. I'll explain everything. Call the police.

- Leo, what's going on? - I have no idea.

You said you were heading back to London.

We are planning a surprise for Duncan's 60th.

That's the best you could come up with? Couldn't have thought of anything better?

Nikky's a friend from our student days.

Yep, I'm sure he is, Alex, but unfortunately,

he's also an ex-KGB officer. Isn't that right?

Same as Leo, here.

- He's your husband's handler. - Handler?

- Duncan's a Russian sleeper agent. - What?

Let me explain. - Don't move. Put your hands on your head.

They're old friends planning a surprise, same as me. That's why I'm here.

Leo and I snuck away from Duncan to meet Nikky. It was all arranged.

Look, that's fertilizer and fuel oil behind them.

They're not making a cake. They're making a bomb.

No, this-this... You're wrong. This is absurd.

My husband is not a Russian agent.

Look, Alex, just tru...

What now?

We ready the plane.

Put him out.

Yes.