All language subtitles for Scorpio-1973

You should let those cats out
once in a while.

Outside they couldn't survive.

They were bred for degeneracy.

Like a whore.

There's harder work.

When?

In a week.

Here is a film
of Colonel Saran Zim, President of Eritrea,

as he steps from the plane, bringing him
to Paris from the Middle East

on the first leg of his tour
of the NATO countries.

Zim was met by French foreign minister,
Pierre Croyez,

and minister of state, Jacques Cassente.

Russian advisers attached to Zim
accompanied him

even on this mission to the West.

A strong security force
surrounded the dapper colonel

as he made his way toward the podium.

This is the moment.

An assassins gun fires,

causing panic on the tarmac.

As one of the special police falls,

ministers and officials run for cover.

Another shot kills Zim's bodyguard,
Emilio Rocca.

Lights used to floodlight the area

were spun round to illuminate
a nearby hangar.

From the roof, bursts of fire
from an automatic rifle.

Police returning fire,
run to surround the hangar,

leaving Zim and his entourage
mooing for coven.

Two more police died in the ensuing battle.

While police
were distracted by the rooftop assassin,

another shot from the darkness
of the airport

and Salan Zim fails dead.

Here is an action replay of the moment,

as Colonel Satan Zim of Eritrea

meets death from an unknown assassin.

Meantime, French police
shot and mortally wounded

the young Arab whose fire from the roof
had killed four men.

He carried papers identifying him

as Yusef Belabar, a student from Eritrea,

a member of the extreme
left-wing Soldiers of Revolution group.

Already in Eritrea,

government forces have raided
the of fices of 17 left-wing...

Do you ever count the dead, Cross?

You're beautiful, Jean,

but sometimes you have
the bad breath of priests.

- Did you see the opposition?
- I saw him.

What's Zharkov doing on the plane?

How many times
you been out with me?

Six, maybe seven.

You're good, Jean.
Better than good.

You're smart, you understand.

But that still leaves you
a contract button man,

necessary only because the CIA
doesn't hold with doing its own killing.

Washington.

Does the boy go into your report?

He's the headliner.

Why did he want to kill Zim?

Nosy, aren't you?

Good evening, Madame.

Bonsoir, monsieur.

Monsieur.

Boy saw Zim as a fascist, a brutal pig,

a tool of American imperialism.

He wanted a crack at him.
I bought him a ticket.

If he had got him?

Mademoiselle, s'il vous plait.

You'd have picked up
your money with no sweat.

Merci.

If Zim was America's man, why kill him?

For your education?

Zim dead at the hands of the left

serves his government and mine
better than Zim alive.

But it's not his death that's important.

It's who appeared to have
killed him that counts.

One more thing for your education.

The more a man tells you,
the more dangerous you become to him.

And the more dangerous you become,

the shorter the options on your future.

- Your sister still work at Air France?
- Uh-huh.

Is she meeting you?

She doesn't know I'm here.

Sarah's picking me up in a car.
Can I give you a lift?

I thought the rules said
we were strangers from here on in.

They bend.

No, thanks. Say hello to Sarah for me.

I will.

- He still in there?
- Upstairs bedroom.

See you fellas in the morning, eh?

Right.

The President Harding Suite.

Some I know like lo touch
both walls of a room.

They need security. Would you believe it?

Harding used to play cards up here
with his oil friends.

I was a bellboy then. I was no more than 10.

People used to tip big in those days.

Thank you, sir. Oh, here, kitty.

Leave the cat.

Yes, sir.

You, uh, need anything, sir?

Action, you know?

A little black to change your luck?

You frighten a guy.

I woke up and for a moment
I thought you were still away,

and I'd just dreamed you were back.

You smell of me.

Remember the story of Madagascar Ho?

A little man who dreamed of Madagascar.

Never got further than the 3rd Avenue El.

We should have run in 1945.

Where?

Today's Saturday, isn't it?

Yes, all day.

Heck still go down to the cottage
on weekends?

Yeah. He and Helen left
Tuesday for a couple of weeks.

They asked us down.

Their boy go, too?

No. He's at UCLA now.
He only comes home once or twice a year.

He sees Heck as being in the enemy camp.

He's right.

You're gonna tell him?

I'm gonna tell him today.

McLeod's not gonna have a good morning.

He'll handle it.

He'll feed it into his computer
for the proper reaction.

Maybe we should just go,
you know, like the Arabs, and not...

And not tell McLeod.

You start to run,
everyone wants to know why.

Then they make up the answers
to their own questions.

I thought I just saw someone
in Helen's kitchen.

You did.

Us?

You know the Agency.
They like to keep an eye on things.

Mr. McLeod would like to see you.

Sorry. Afraid I must insist.

With what were you going to insist,
Mr. Filchock?

We named you well.

You're a perfect Scorpio.

You have a penchant
for intrigue and violence.

Don't limit your action. Read palms.

Maybe my character will improve.

Orion boasted he would kill
all the animals on the earth.

So the goddesses Diana and Latona

created the scorpion to slay the hunter.

You and McLeod make two nice goddesses.

Tell Diana I've got my day planned.

Cross came back.

You were to kill him in Paris.

Remember everything?

Just in case.

I remember.

I can't see him. He's got out and run.

Oh, Jesus!

Joy.

Joy, baby. A C-note?

My mother's dead, man,
so who do I have to kill?

You know the Lord's Prayer?

McLeod?

McLeod, McLeod.

How bad does he want me?

All the way.

He say why?

Where's your partner?

He's hurt. He's back in the car.

Go! a radio in it?

You ever been in the field?

But you've seen the survival kit.
You know what this is?

It's the happy pill.
It's the "kiss the mortgage goodbye“ pill.

So long, brother of mine.
You've got 30 seconds to live.

Miami, single.

You got nothing smaller, mister?

What's the matter? Business slow?

New York, single. What time does it leave?

2120.

You're sure?

What? Are you here for laughs? I'm sure.

Taxi.

Just drive on ahead.

Thanks.

- Anne.
Who is it?

- C'est moi?
- Jean!

Right.

Hello, Cross.

Hello, Pick.

I need help.

I need the dust Close the door.

What are you doing in Washington?

Missing my sister.

Sure.

She's lecturing.
She'll be back soon. Had breakfast?

Mm-hmm.

Here, give me those.

White for your sister
and red for your love. Hungry?

Coffee only.

Where are you living now?

Paris.

Do you still have the same apartment?

Yes.

You bastard!

You're one hell of a letter writer.

One postcard from Damascus in six months.

He brought you some flowers.

The red ones are for you.
Oh, hell! The coffee!

I know a place that does a good breakfast.

Hello. May I speak to Mitch, please?

There's no Mitch here.
What number are you calling?

393-4098.

I'm sorry. You have the wrong number.

Three...

And how long are you here for this time?

Well, I...

No, don't tell me. It's too pretty
a day. I don't want it to rain.

Hello. Hello, Cross.

No time, Sarah. McLeod wants me dead.

H! have to go deep,
so you won't hear from me for a while.

Stay close. Contact no one.

When the time comes,
Pick'll get in touch. I love you, Sarah.

Keep that mountain in mind.

I love you, Cross.

First of all' I'm gonna take you
to the Washington Monument and...

Excuse me, sir.

Of course.

Wait for me outside.

McLeod wants to see you, sir.
Don't give me any trouble, please.

No trouble. Just let me get my bag.

I'll get it for you, sir. Which one?

There.

Where the hell are you going
with that bag? Give me that bag!

Good morning, sir.

Ail you had to do
was keep your heads dawn.

And Cross would have walked
right into this office to file his report.

And what d'you do?
You crawl halfway up his ass!

Who did you think you were following,
some second-hand car dealer

from Oshkosh, Wisconsin?

Cross is the best.

Now he's running free

and all I've got
is one operative with a cut head,

another being held by the local police
as a drug-addict homosexual,

and one beat-up car.

Mr. McLeod, you said to check him
in and keep an eye on him and...

Oh, get out.

How is Harris?

Still in a state of shock.

Cross forced a harmless hay fever pill

into his mouth' told him it was cyanide
from an SD kit.

Beautiful!
- Shall I bail the dummy out?

No, let him sweat.

I can't let this get upstairs, Fil.

If we throw this one,
the chief'll come down hard.

We have to get Cross.

I've got every man on it,
but without FBI or locals,

we're carrying a handicap.

The Bureau would love
to get their hands on this. Mmm-mmm.

No, no one outside the Agency.

Blanket everything.
Every exit. Operate every contact.

I'll put it nationwide. We'll box him in.

Flight for Toronto
is 7:15, due in 8:10.

Then the big one, Toronto-Vienna.

It leaves at 8:25 and it's
a fast-track ab' the way.

You'll be there at 5:30 in the morning,
1:30 in the afternoon their time.

Put it in your shoe, Jack!
Can't you read the sign? Maintenance!

Too much!

I made the connections
as fast as I could, like you said.

There are no through bookings,
nothing traceable.

In Pittsburgh your tickets will be
waiting for you at the National desk,

under the name Father Henderson.

At Chicago go to the United desk.
There you're Father Kitts.

At Toronto it's Air Canada,
under the name Father Wieland.

And your English is not so good!

Let's get moving.

Tell me, how do you like my place?

Very much.

I've 75 students of English Literature,

I teach nine classes a week,
and our new term starts next week.

And I love you.

How do you like Paris?

Better watch out, Jean.

You make one promise
and I'll hold you to it.

Okay, Father.

Goodbye, my son. Bless you.

Goodbye! Goodbye! Goodbye!

Hello.

What are we buying for each other?

I'll pay my dues.

How much did my sister tell you?

She said there'd be pain.

Did she talk about Algeria?

She said that you were
a lieutenant in the paratroopers.

When I think of it, I'm afraid. Aren't you?

I picked you up, remember?

I only talked Anne into
sharing an apartment with me

so I'd have an excuse to be around.

We can't all miss, mister. Okay?

Let's give it a search.

Make a move, jockey,
and I'll splash you across the sheets.

It's heroin.

You son of a bitch. Get out of bed.

Pull it in.

Jean!

You've two ways to walk, Scorpio.

Down that corridor that's 30 years long...

Or with me.

This is Washington National Airport.

The picture shows passengers
boarding this afternoons 5:15 flight,

Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

Would you say that was Cross?

Without an element of doubt.

Some airports have a television eye service.

They keep a video tape running,

which they erase the next day.
I had a hunch.

And it paid.

It should have been fairly easy

to trace the destination of a priest.

Normally Washington airport
wouldn't have too many priests

departing around 5:00 or so,

but today was the last day
of a conference of teaching brothers.

More than 300 priests departed,

in all directions,
between 3:00 and 6:00 p.m.,

Cross amongst them.

Brilliant.

Oh, I agree.

He had to have help.

No. Messenger boys.

The plan was Cross's.
Would you agree to that, Scorpio?

Mm-hmm.

Well, our first piece of common ground.

You boys can pack it in for the night.

You were supposed
to kill Cross at the Paris job.

No contract.

You took the money.

You left the money.

Why?

Cross had his contract in first.

I don't play games when the rules are bent.

No one bends them faster than Cross.

Never with me.

I want Cross. And I want him burned.

You know him best.

Find him.

You make too many mistakes.

Like?

You confuse what you want
with what I want.

Mister, you don't have
too much ground to dance on.

I could drop you for the heroin

or tag you for the Paris killing.

Now, your government
would like more names.

Your second mistake, McLeod.

Cross gave me enough information

on each operation we did together.

Not conclusive, but enough
to make a strange reading.

You can't let me go into a public court.

What do you want?

I want inside.

Where?

Beirut.

You want Cross's job?

If you get Cross, you get his posting.

More.

More?

$25,000.

Where's Cross?

More.

You run it right to the edge, don't you?

What?

I want to know the reason.

Executive order.

You don't question a directive
in the Agency, Scorpio.

I'm not in the Agency until I get Cross.

The reason?

He's a face, a double agent.

He sold to the opposition
and he has a lot more to sell.

Do you know where Cross is or don't you?

I don't. But a man named Zharkov will.

Serge Zharkov.

He's Soviet intelligence
in Cairo, Cross's opposite.

You think he'll go to Zharkov?

Zharkov will go to him.
But not in the Middle East, in Europe.

Europe is a big place.

I want internal replay on Serge Zharkov.

Who else have you got to send
against him but me'?

Where do I send you?

Where Zharkov and Cross have met before.

A place they both know.

A place where Zharkov
could have a safe house.

Ready on Zharkov.

Sergei Zharkov.

Born Kiev, 1914. Educated in Leningrad.

Doctor of philosophy
and political history, and economics.

Fought in Spain with the Thalmann Brigade.

Arrested in Moscow, 1939,
and sentenced to six years ham! labor.

Rehabilitated in 1943. Assignment, Balkans.

Little information
until his posting to Iraq in 1952.

Speaks fluent German, Arabic,
French, English, Hebrew.

Associated operatives. Karim,

Ludmann,

Zemetkin...

Replay operatives.

Associated operatives. Karim,

Ludmann,

Zemetkin...

Hold on Zemetkin.

Listen' when I came over,
you promised me asylum.

We also promised you questions.

Yes.

And I answered all your questions.
Why am I in the airport?

You're going back to Moscow, Zemetkin.

You gave us no more than we already knew.

You were cute and well-conditioned.

And all that stuff
about freedom had brass edges.

You ran because you were
playing pat-a-cake with state funds.

Okay, we let it ride.

But now we want
a little interest on our investment.

Zharkov.

When Zharkov isn't in the Middle East

and he isn't at home, where is he'?

Maybe a former picnic ground
not too east and not too west.

Somewhere the barriers are down.

I don't know such a place.
I would tell you if I knew.

Your plane.
Aeroflot flight 379, direct to Moscow.

Al the other end,
you'll be well and truly met.

6481 to Ilyushin 009. Over.

You're murdering me.

Federal protective
service officer 7463. Over.

MAN T. Ready to board
passenger Andrew Zemetkim Oven.

Standing by. Over.

MAN T. Dropping lounge
boarding platform in five seconds Oven.

How about Vienna, huh'?

JEAN'S GIRLFRIEND; Vienna?

I'm sorry.
- What about the police?

A mistake.

The man who had the room
before me forgot to pack everything.

Some mistake.

How long will you be away'? Can I come?

Impossible. Anyway, you have to teach.

Is it going to be dangerous, Jean?

No. Why should it be?

We've already contacted
our people in Vienna.

You'll be given
every facility, total cooperation.

And you can draw expenses.

McLeod's depending on you, Scorpio.

Spain was a long time ago.

The best died there.

There's a house on the Kurrentgasse,
on the corner. Go there.

Where are we going?

Get in.

You don't talk very much.

I have nothing to say.

I see you still have
a flair for the theater, Zharkov.

It adds color.

These drivers, your people?

Not official. Old comrades.

I hear you are running, Cross.

What else do you hear?

McLeod's ordered the wet stuff.

There's a gun out for you.

When did you know?

A week before you did.

Who have you got in your pocket?

Actually, I buy from a Bulgarian
who works for the Chinese.

Your place?

Yours, if you need it.

No one knows about it,
not my company, not your company.

Just friends, a few and trustworthy.

And the rent?

Take it on trust.

Thank you.

There will come a time, Cross,

when those who sit above me
will want you delivered.

They'll give me so much play
in the rope and then they'll pull it in.

And then?

Moscow is nice in the spring.

There's a long winter' I hear.

How are you going to get your wife out?

I'll get her out.

Come over. They'll get her out for you.

No, Sergei. No Moscow.

I want out, not just a change of sides.

Sit down, Cross.

The offer of the hide still goes.

And when the rope begins to wind in?

I'll tell you.

And you'll know where to find me.

In Vienna, I could find you anywhere.

Have you noticed, Cross,
that we are being replaced

by young men with bright, stupid faces,

a sense of fashion,

and a dedication to
nothing more than efficiency?

Keepers of machines, pushers of buttons,

hardware men with highly complex toys,

and, except for language,
not an iota of difference

between the American model
and the Soviet model.

To dinosaurs.

Maybe you can kill Cross alone, though I
wouldn't put my little yellow basket on it,

but you're not gonna find him alone,
not out there.

Am I wasting my breath?

No, I was listening.

And so far you've said
nothing that lit any candles in the dark.

You have no proof
that Cross and Zharkov are in Vienna.

You have no one on your staff
that knows Zharkov.

But you did get around
to checking customs,

and eight priests arrived by air
in the last three days,

two from North America, Mitchell.

It is Mitchell, isn't it'?

Well, Mitchell...
Which of the two was Cross?

The one on TWA from New York
or the one on Air Canada from Toronto?

No way of telling.

Father Wieland was Cross,
Air Canada from Toronto.

Yes, I know horse players that
play hunches and hot flushes.

Horse players die broke.

If Cross had flown
from Washington to New York,

he would have caught the Pan Am flight,

but there was no priest on that flight.

He wouldn't have waited
seven hours for a TWA flight.

Never stand still when you run
and never run in a straight line.

That's the first thing Cross taught me.

Cross is an organizer.

He plans down to the finest margin of error.

You can't follow his mistakes,
so you follow his skill.

Washington to Pittsburgh or Cleveland.
Two possibles.

Cleveland or Pittsburgh to Chicago.

Chicago to Toronto.

Toronto to Vienna.

Not more than 20 minutes in any one place,

and less than 12 hours in all.

Wieland fits.

All the majesty of Europe.

Have you ever been to the Hermitage?

Paintings there that seize your breath.

Stop being a guide, Sergei.
What have you got for me?

Arrivals.

Then they know you are here. I guessed.

You never guess.

A defector, Zemetkin, a petty thief.
McLeod had his thumbs on him.

He knew about Vienna.

And the hide?

Only those I trust know that.

I could have this one killed.

No.

I would offer you coffee, Cross,

but the sugar would attract too many flies.

Everyone Cross used to know in Vienna.

Everyone Cross used to know
that you know.

We're monitoring
telephone calls to America,

telegrams and radio telegrams.

I want the tapes brought here.

We've got a watch on all the embassies,

but if Cross doesn't move,
he'll be damn near invisible.

He'll move. He'll try to get his wife out.

He'll need funds and help.

Not if he goes over.

He won't.

McLeod thinks he might.

If he was going over,
he'd be in Moscow, not Vienna.

The trouble with McLeod
is that he thinks like McLeod.

You know what a dybbuk is, Mitchell?

Some son of Jewish sprite or ghost.

A spirit that invades another human form.

I'm the dybbuk of Cross's labyrinth mind.

I live inside him.

He'll move.

He's in here.

I've assigned Novins and Dor to assist you.

They're both Viennese, both very good men.

Of course, as far
as the embassy is concerned,

you don't exist' so don't call for help.

Cross.

You have some time, Max'?

Until 3:00. But longer if you want.

You hungry?

I can hold out if we hurry.

Come on!

It's June.

Strauss and Strauss and Strauss.

A little Mozart, a little Brahms,

then Strauss and Strauss and Strauss.

Vienna is the only city that puts
on yesterday's clothes for visitors.

Cross, it's been months
since I played any Webern or Berg.

And three years since I saw you, Cross.

I'm in trouble, Max.

Can I help?

Maybe you should first ask what.

It would only depress me
or maybe frighten me, Cross.

I need a messenger boy, Max.

Waiter!

Yes?

Between rehearsals or should I go sick?

- You'll have plenty of time between.
- I see.

Could you do the bank today?

The old bank?

There's a teller there by the name
of Karoldy. He'll arrange everything.

He'll give you a key to
a safety deposit box.

In the box are three packages.

Bring them to me.

Okay. '!-

What are you doing this weekend?

I am off Friday till Monday.

Would you like to see Rome?

Rome?

I want someone to meet Sarah,
someone she knows.

If I can clear her
in the next few days, will you do it?

I need it bad, Max.

Do I take her to Maria's?

Danke schon.

Nothing.

He says he hasn't seen Cross for 20 years.

Didn't even know he was still alive.

You believe him?

Yeah, I'd say so.

Put a marker on him?

Try Stross next. 72, Porkornygasse.

We'll finish the others tomorrow.

You'll be here if anything bites?

I'll be here.

How did you get this?

A man asked for it to be given to you.

Man about 50, big, American?

Yes, but he was German.

Oh, yeah.

You should have
done it in Paris, Jean.

The price wasn't right.

And now it is?

Yes, now it is.

I could kill you, Jean.

Take it, then, Cross.

It won't come around again.

Can we talk?

Sure.

McLeod name my sin?

He said you sold and had more to sell.

And you believe that?

Is it true? I want to know.

For your education? No, it isn't true.

Zharkov.

What about Zharkov?

He is the opposition.

I've known Zharkov for almost 30 years.

As an ally, as an enemy
and always as a friend.

We're both premature antifascists,

as they used to say in Washington.

But Zharkov hasn't sold out
and neither have I.

Then why does McLeod want you dead?

Why don't you ask him that?

I'm asking you.

You're looking for God's shining face,
aren't you, Jean?

Something to believe in.

Like a young girl
in a white Communion dress.

But you've got the soul of a torturer,
so your need is greater.

You lied to me, Cross, and you used me.

For that I'm going to kill you.

I never lied to you' Jean.
I used you, but I never lied to you.

Not my doing, Cross, I swear.

Don't trust McLeod.
He ordered you dropped twice,

Damascus and Marseilles.

That's why I gave you so much
information on each job,

something to bargain with.

You owe me, Jean.

Where?

He's up there.

You had him last night and you let him go.

That's how it looks in my report
to Washington,

unless you've got something to change it.

Dor says you didn't even try
to get a shot off.

Where the hell do you think you're going?

Never put your hands on me.

Cross, I'm off until Tuesday.

I want you to call Washington for me.

The number and the message
is in that envelope.

Okay. '!-

Repeat the message exactly as it's written.

Yes.

Call from a phone box.

You still don't have any questions?

What answers could you have
that would make any difference?

I love you, Cross.

And I you, Max. That's why I must
tell you there could be pain in this.

I have been inoculated.

You know, Cross,

I used to think
that the only music I would ever hear,

no matter what I was really playing,

was the music we played each morning

when the others went out to work.

Or the music for the selection,

when the lucky ones went into the showers.

Now I can hear Brahms...

And not crying.

But one image has never blurred.

Cross, you coming through
that gate and taking me home.

Oh, for...

They're pulling in the net. Both sides.

They want you delivered, Cross.

I can't go back. You know that.
Not after this kind of a move.

Not even if the Soviets took the leash off.

But your wife...

I'll have her out in two days.

Do you know why McLeod hates you, Cross?

Because you are
one of Donovan's adventurers,

the last of the Knights Templar.

You don't stand up straight.

You have your hands in your pockets,
show no respect.

And tonight you are going
to get drunk with a Russian.

And we are going to get drunk, Cross.

What was it you used to say?

"Falling down drunk. "

Falling down drunk.
And then we'll get maudlin.

We will sing, I will cry,

and then I will tell you
some very funny stories.

Tell Mother
to take the books back to the library.

They are overdue.

Give her my love
and tell her not to carry things.

Just a man calling his mother, Mitchell?

Only two things don't wash, Mitchell.

He called a public phone in Washington,
and he doesn't have a mother.

His whole family died in the camps.

You didn't crosscheck each one, Mitchell,
and you cost me a day.

You are so damn quick
to write notes to McLeod.

Put that in, Mitchell.

I traced it back to a Max Lang.

He used a phone booth
in a cafe near the state opera house.

You knew that, Mitchell,
but you didn't go there.

Dead end.

It could have been a dead end.

But Lang needed more change.
He asked one of the waiters.

The waiter knows him.

He is a cellist, Mitchell.

And, even more important,

he was in the Resistance
when Cross was liaison.

The whole goddamn things redundant.

There are no more secrets.
At least, none worth stealing.

It's a lower form of life.

Its reason of existence is
its reason to exist.

What the hell are you doing?

Jesus, Sergei.

You even hide things from yourself.

Tell me, what keeps you from burning out?

Hmm?

You see before you
the last of a race of giants.

No, no, no. I mean seriously.

Seriously?

I still believe. I'm still a communist.

Communist? For Christ's sakes!
After what you've seen?

You've seen it turn brutal... inhuman.

No, Cross. I've seen men use it badly.

What about the trials? The purges?

Trials, purges, they are words
you have read somewhere, Cross.

My trial was so grotesque,

my hours of interrogation
so terrible that I was numb.

It was a kind of
frontal lobotomy without anesthetic.

And the labor camps,

where men, good communists' old fighters,

men who believed
in the dignity of man above all else,

were used as drought animals
to pull logs on frozen feet.

That this could be the result
of all I had committed my life to.

But, baby, at that moment,
didn't you realize what was happening?

At that moment I tried to
understand what had happened to me.

Most of us there were communists,

not Stalinists. That is why we were there.

Nothing had happened
to make me renounce myself.

I was still a communist.
Stalin couldn't take it away from me.

And now the dull, gray stupidity

that sends the tanks into Prague

because ii has no imagination,

it can't take it from me either.

I am still a communist.

You're still an idiot.

You still serve that dull, gray stupidity.

And when they pull the wire on me,

I'll deliver you to them, Cross.

Yesterday at 1620,
Sarah Cross received a local phone call,

the same message as the one monitored

in Vienna to someone here in Washington.

We have no trace on that someone.

She left the house at 1705.
Notice the handbag.

It's big enough to carry a package,

say, the size of a book, without it showing.

She went to this storage house.

Cross kept some Middle Eastern
furniture and artifacts there

from the time he sent
his wife home from Cairo.

She signed in, got the keys
and went upstairs.

She was inside six minutes.

She told the inventory clerk
she had to measure a cabinet.

She signed nothing out.

She left and drove to
the Library of Congress building.

We got no film inside that building,

but one of our operatives followed her.

The place was crowded with tourists

and it was nearly closing time.

Now, she spoke to no one,

deposited nothing,
simply wandered through the exhibit halls.

However, on her way out she had to pass

through a group on a conducted tour.

No way to check persons on tour.

She exited the building at 1749.

Could be a drop.

But did she make her connection?

Probably someone in that tour group.

Or she could have picked something up
just as easily.

Passport, ticket, escape details.

She's due to run.

I want her place searched.

Get Heck Thomas, he lives behind her,

to invite her for drinks, dinner, anything.

Then get a contract thief
to get one of our men in there.

Brief him on what
he might be expected to find.

Make it look like a routine housebreaking.

The thief s gotta leave prints.

We'll give him shelter.

Where is Cross?

Nothing. He had this in his pocket, though.
The phone message.

Cross's handwriting. I'll talk to Lang.

He's dead. He wouldn't talk.

The car! Box him in!

You stay up here.

Cross!

I'm tired, Helen,
and I've been very bad company,

so thank you and say good night
to Heck for me, all right'?

Come over for coffee in the morning.

Okay. '!-

I know about music...

Hey, honey, we're out of booze again.

There's a couple more
in the kitchen, darling.

No, that's gone too.

Uh, where'd Sarah get to?

She's gone home. She's got the dumps.

- Jesus, no!
- Heck!

She's gone back to her house.
Should I go after her?

No, don't get involved. Call him. Warn him.

I'm going over there.

Jesus Christ! What happened in there?

Now.

More of your litter, Mr. Mitchell.

Always with access to my superiors.

I don't like your type in my streets.

I've lost another man
and that bastard thinks it's funny.

You've lost more
than another man, Mitchell.

You've lost Zharkov.
That means we've lost Cross.

It might just be that Cross

would be more valuable, more cooperative,

if we helped him without conditions.

We don't think so.

Alex, you don't think. You take orders.

And so do you, Zharkov.

Your orders are the same as mine,

put Cross on tomorrow's flight to Moscow.

Your apparent intimacy with this man
could be interpreted...

You know, Alex, you remind me
of someone I used to know.

Who?

Funny, he never told me his name.

Like you, he was building his career

on a passionate belief in obedience.

He took his revolution from books,

his Marxism from easy-to-swallow,
predigested pap.

He was building socialism in one country

with the bones from a charnel house.

There were a lot of them around in 1939.

I can't give you any more time, Cross.

Two days.

My head on a tray.

Malkin?

Another keen son of a bitch.

Better get dressed.

You know, Sergei...

I might be better than you in a closed room.

Don't even think about it.

For you.

Do me one favor, Cross.
Run, as fast and as far as you can.

You've nothing but enemies now.
Both sides.

Don't catalog
the excuses through the alphabet.

You got it cleaned up?

Morrison's in the hospital,
with our own medical people in attendance.

- It's a bad wound.
- The thief?

He ran. Untraceable so far.

No one's untraceable.

Damp down the police search.

We don't have the means.

Over their heads, we do.

If Milne's found dead,

that'll make for more questions.

More questions make for deeper probes.

All right.

All right, but get Morrison
out of Washington. Fly him to Panama.

It is a bad wound.

I won't cry if the goof dies.

Change your mind, my friend?

I've bad news, Cross.

Our sister Sarah has gone to her rest
in the peace of Christ.

With faith and hope of eternal life,

let us commend Sarah
to the loving mercy of our Father.

The hunter home from the hill.

I'd buy a plot here soon, Mr. McLeod.
It's a nice cemetery.

You think I'm responsible for this?

Cross will.

And you think he'll come back?

Don't you?

We have evidence that he's in Moscow.

Then burn incense in front of it, McLeod.
And pray.

From our end, the contract is still open.

Why the Bahnhof?

All faces are anonymous in railway stations.

You're sure there will be no trouble?

He's there, packed and ready
to make the trip.

The negatives and prints
are on their way to Moscow.

There is a limited interpretation possible,

but an accompanying report
clarifies the more shadowed areas.

And you are seeing Cross off.

You might try denial, but ii is a weak plea,

and at best would leave you
open to charges of incompetence.

I suggest you defect.

Cross, Zharkov getting off
a Soviet Ilyushin aircraft

This photo's reported to have been taken

from the observation roof
of the Moscow airport.

Lab says could be but no hard evidence.

Cross here shaking hands with three VIPS.
Zharkov in the background.

That indicates the three are high-ranking.

No telling who these two are,
but this one in profile could be Stolypin,

head of the Arab section in Moscow.

Notice this maintenance vehicle.

The lab blew it up

and it definitely has the markings
and plate numbers of Moscow.

Now, that's the first hard evidence.

All the rest are blow-ups
to examine everything in detail.

We've combed it out tight,
the results say it probably is Moscow.

But could be Prague or Budapest.

Okay, Torn.

Where's Zharkov now?

Cairo.

Flew directly there from Moscow.

The opposition is chortling
about some coup.

Cross has gone over.

Scorpio still expects him.

The Frenchman's a loser.

You could have had that beautiful
Abyssinian in the pet shop. He was lovely.

I like street cats.

I'm going to call you Sun Tzu.

Who on earth is Sun Tzu?

A great scholar of war. Wasn't he, cat?

I bet he has fleas.

It's a sign of his independence.

I wanted to buy you
something lovely and exotic.

You wanted
to buy me something I wanted.

All right, I'll take this one.

Okay, but there's no charge, lady.

If you want 10 give something, there's
a donation box in front of the office.

Okay. '!-

Should we give him anything special to eat?

Oh, no, no. You can use anything.
Any scraps from the kitchen.

If he's hungry, he'll eat anything.

Just a word, Mr. Laurier.
A few minutes, please.

McLeod has closed the Cross file.

Is that a polite warning?

No. I'm here on my own.

I'd like your opinion.

You know my opinion.

That airport, could be Moscow.

- Could be'?
- We think it is.

But could be Prague or Budapest.

That's careless geography.

You, uh...
You still think Cross will come back?

If that was Moscow, they'd hardly let him

pose for few photographs and then leave,
would they?

I don't know where ii is,

and I don't know
what the Russians might or might not do.

But I know what Cross will do.

What do you think I should do?

Sit in McLeod's chair and see if it fits.

It will be vacant soon.

We've got a fix on the thief

His name's Paul Milne. He's running scared.

I'd hit him tonight, Cross.
He might be gone by tomorrow.

He's a third-term man,

so he's down for life
without a killing on his sheets.

With that bonus, the law should
be breathing hard down his back,

but there's no heat.

The story is around that the man downtown

has been told to cool it
and doesn't like it.

The grumble goes high up.
You think they could put a fix in?

They might if they had a good reason.
What's this Milne's form like?

Housebreaker, jimmy and soft-shoe stuff.

He's never been caught
with a gun or a blade.

I've asked around,
but nobody says he shot your wife.

But you know where to find him.

What the hell is this?

Who are you guys?

No! Jesus, that's gas!

Who are you?

Match.

Holy mother of God!

The job where the woman was killed.

I didn't kill her! I don't carry a gun.

Who?

I was hired. This guy.
I don't even know his name.

Did he tell you what to look for?

Notebook, a small package.

Paper, letters, anything with writing on it.

- Did he shoot her?
- Yes.

The lady comes in sudden
and she's got this gun.

She opened up on him and he blasted her.

Cross.

Give up smoking, thief.
It's bad for your health.

So now you know.

Now I know.

How are you gonna get that guy
if he's as big as you say he is'?

He ain't gonna be no Lady Godiva.

Miff Wilson.

Cross, man, it's gonna cost you.

I can afford it.

I've saved enough to buy a mountain
I won't need any more.

I know you're out there, Cross.
I can feel it.

- Miff.
- Cross.

- How are you?
- Great.

- Got a minute? Let's step outside.
- Sure.

Sure.

Miff, remember the job
you did for me in Michigan?

I want you to take care of someone for me.

He'll be coming clown the street
in a black Cadillac car.

Hey, nut.

What are you doing?

They're beautiful.

We're going to Paris.

When?

Tomorrow. We'll get an apartment.

You've got an apartment.

A new one.

You're crazy. You know that?
Crazy out of your skull.

No.

I love you.

If anything happens to me,

if I'm stopped at the airport
or anything like that,

take this to the French Embassy,
to a Gil Mousseau.

Gil Mousseau.

And give it to him.

He'll know what to do.

No, don't ask now.

I'll tell you soon. In Paris.

Are you in trouble, Jean?

No. That's my insurance policy.

You know I'm old-fashioned enough
to buy you a ring.

And I know a place
that makes a good breakfast.

See you on Monday, Fil.

Have a good lunch.

Bloody martini circuit.
Damn town runs on olives and small talk.

This is it.

Is this the place?

- This'll be okay.
- Right on.

You drive on.

Stay here, Mr. McLeod. I'll see to it.

Don't move me.

Call an ambulance.

Don't move me.

Mr. McLeod, sir.

Quick, quick! Get an ambulance.

Your flight leaves Dulles airport at 7:50.

- Good luck.
- Thanks.

I will see you over there.

Yeah.

Mr. Laurier.

You were right, Scorpio.
We should have listened to you.

Are you going to fulfill your contract now?

I'm out.

We still want Cross.

He'll make contact now
with the opposition, one last big delivery.

You've shown me no proof
that Cross was a traitor.

You've got a handful of maybes.

You can't buy 10 minutes
of my time with that.

Proof? You want proof?

What do you think McLeod was?
A psychopath?

Some sick mind that
went about ordering killings

to make his days interesting?

No. He was a professional,
like Cross, but with a difference.

He was honest.

He had only two gods, efficiency and duty.

Cross is a double agent.

In intelligence all evidence is,
of necessity, circumstantial,

but Cross had bank accounts
with considerable assets in Zurich,

under the number 30-98-71.

You can see it written down there
in his handwriting,

checked out against a signature

on his American Express credit card.

In that account alone, he had $238,000,

down this year to $124,000.

By the way, Scorpio,
you can hold the picture on screen

or close in on it
by using that panel in front of you.

His next account turned up in Panama,

this time under the name
Robert Crosthwaite.

Credit, $19,500.

He also has a Dallas bank account
under the name Gerald Cross.

Assets, as of January '73, $60,000.

I grant you, field work demands
trading with the opposition.

Cross knew men like Zharkov but...

Here he is with Raymond Hussein in Paris,

a man who he told us he had never met.

Here with Robert Simmonds in Beirut,

another name that never
appears in his field reports.

Cross again in an Arab guerrilla camp
with Salem Demoum.

All these men were responsible
for receiving substantial information leaks

from unidentified sources,

leaks that could have come from Cross.

So when Cross' wife
returned to Washington,

we put her under surveillance.

Now, we have reason to believe
that she was being used as a delivery.

Now, this was filmed by
one of our agents when she left the house

shortly after the message
you monitored in Vienna,

was called through to Washington.

She went to this storage house.

Cross kept some belongings there.

Then she left, went directly
to the Library of Congress building,

we believe to pass a message.

It was very crowded there with
tourists. She may have made a drop.

Our agent couldn't be sure

because he wasn't allowed
to photograph in the building.

She left there at 5:49,
just before closing time.

a' picked you up, remember?

I only talked Anne into
sharing an apartment with me

so I had an excuse to be around.

I picked you up, remember?

Good night. Bye-bye.

Jean.

Jean.

You'll have to look me in the eye
when you kill me, Jean.

That won't bother me. Not this time.

No, you're a one-talent man, Frenchman.

You took this contract 'cause you wanted
inside, you wanted my job,

and you needed a McLeod
to carry your sins for you.

I was finished with you, Cross.

I was going home tomorrow... With her.

She was my way out.

I'm sorry about the girl. Truly sorry.

But I had no part of her plans.

She was a Czech courier, and very good.

A lot of hard work went
into collecting this.

Go ahead, Scorpio. It should be easy.

You'd be doing both of us a favor,

and there's an outside chance
they might let you live.

Two for one.

There's a room just down the hall
from McLeod's office,

where grown men play a game.

It's a bit like Monopoly,
only more people get hurt.

There's no good... And no bad.

Jesus.

The object is not to win,

but not to lose,

and the only rule is to stay in the game.