Original subtitles

- Synced and corrected by chamallow - - www.addic7ed.com -

I should warn you, I'm armed!

I thought you were a burglar.

- I could've killed you. - No, you couldn't.

What the, uh, what the fuck is that?

It's a waterbed.

Oh, it must be like sleeping on a bouncy castle.

Have you been smoking in my room?

Uh, I did you a favor.

You don't wanna smell what it's covering up.

You've been at my champagne.

No.

That... That's sparkling water.

I was saving this.

Aw, for losing your virginity?

It'd be vintage by then.

Why are you here?

Checking to see if you're dead.

Anyone try and kill you or anything tonight?

No.

Ah, pity.

Be nice to get this sorted one way or another.

You... You noticed anyone tailing you?

No.

Well, either you're getting worse

or your colleagues are getting better.

Fuck me, that's a puzzler.

Look, how come I need protecting?

Uh, I'm, uh, not convinced you do,

but, uh, you know, due diligence and all.

You nearly getting run over,

broken CCTV, potential spotter, vehicle making a quick exit.

It's dodgy,

but none of it raises my spidey senses

as much as hearing a real-life woman is happy to spend time with you.

How'd you know about Tara?

Uh, Standish left me a message.

Now, I'm not a conspiracy theorist, but something's going on.

I don't get it.

We should have that put on a T-shirt for you.

I'll take the couch. The bed's a fucking nightmare.

What? H-Hang on.

How come you're going to sleep? I thought you were here to keep guard.

Christ, no. Whatever gave you that idea?

I'm here to make sure someone else is.

Give her a sword and a helmet.

She'd look like a brave little hobbit.

Right. Open the windows.

I'm off for a dump.

Oh, fucking hell.

Evening, sunshine.

I am death!

Yeah. You mess with the best,

then you're gonna get messed. Yeah.

Uh, down! Down!

Go, go, go!

Sure wanted one of us dead.

Yeah.

You, you dumb prick!

You!

I didn't get him.

There were two others there.

They were expecting us.

It doesn't matter.

They'll have to report that he's under threat now. That's all we need.

What if he gives them the girlfriend's address?

Then they'll get a surprise.

Oh, shit.

Meet you at the rendezvous.

Aren't we gonna catch up with Shirley?

Do I look like I'm up for a foot chase?

The assassin's got a face full of bleach and a couple of broken bones.

Shirley'll bring him down and bring him in.

It was a case of mistaken identity.

Like I said, no one knows I live here.

Yeah, except your girlfriend.

I told you she got nothing to do with this.

You lost your keys recently?

Yeah, and she found them. Does that sound like she's guilty?

Yeah. She had 'em copied.

Why do you think that?

'Cause the assassin had a fucking key.

Switch your phone off so the Park can't trace you.

Go, go. Come on.

I'm sorry.

I failed.

I told you, all we need is for MI5 to look into him.

And you played your part.

So what now?

After Abbotsfield, we hit them again.

Bigger than the first time.

We need them to be confused and scared.

I need a hospital.

Rest.

We'll take care of you.

Ma'am, I've reviewed and updated

the protocol for security at soft targets.

Squares, museums, tourist attractions.

Yep.

And I am reviewing your review.

This morning was a catastrophe.

We can't afford to repeat that.

Could be some lunatic out there being manipulated as we speak.

In the middle of election for mayor

when people are already losing their minds.

But my improvements should give us extra defense.

I'm going home.

- You should get some rest. - Oh, I'm staying here.

No, well, I expect you to stay, but...

... you could put your feet up on one of the benches in the corridor.

Why are we here?

Well, you can't afford it and I would never come here,

so the Park won't find us.

The house red. A pint of Red Bull please.

I ordered the house red for you and a pint of Red Bull for me.

And I slipped him a 20.

Why?

So we could have any table we want.

So, how did you meet her?

Gravity.

What?

We're like the twin suns of Tatooine.

Oh, you got the same tattoos?

Tatooine. It's a twin-sun desert planet in Star Wars.

Rocket fuel.

Uh, cheers.

Here, give him a tenner.

I already gave him a 20.

Yeah, that was idiot tax.

I want his pad and pen.

Sorry, sir. Can't smoke in here.

Yeah, I know.

Yeah. You're worried about my health, this fucking menu will kill me.

Look, 15 quid for porridge.

Here.

There you go.

Write down everything you know about her.

Who approached who,

what you've told her about yourself,

what sort of things she's asked about.

Every detail is important.

Apart from that shit you were telling me just now.

I'm off to the bog. Quick fag.

- What the fuck are you doing here? - Someone shot up Ho's flat.

Really?

Lamb wants us to check out the address of Ho's girlfriend.

Us?

Us, as in...

Wait, how... How did Lamb know where I was?

He said you'd probably be working out on account of your issues,

- and this is your nearest free equipment. - Yeah.

Yeah, 'cause I'm the one with the issues.

Fuck, so Shirley was right then.

I thought she was losing her mind.

I get why you wouldn't believe her.

Yeah, well, she's not gonna see it like that.

If she's losing it, you're not the only one making bad judgments.

There's nothing wrong with my judgment.

Tiger team. Code September. Stansted.

Can we get this over with?

That's something I'm sure you've heard

often from ladies at this time of night.

- I'm here out of service to my country. - Oh.

- And a little respect wouldn't go amiss. - You're here to serve yourself.

I can help you trace the weapon used in the Abbotsfield massacre.

It went missing from a consignment on display

at the security equipment arms fair in Docklands last month.

And you know this because?

In my post parliamentary life,

I find myself working in public relations.

You work for the arms company that lost the assault rifle

that killed 11 of our citizens?

Not work for. Advise.

And in return for coming forward,

I presume you want me to keep that company's name out of the press.

Well, their internal investigation hit a dead end,

but I can give you a list of the roving ordnance.

Provided you can guarantee my clients are protected

from any accusations of negligence

should one or more of their weapons turn out to be involved in this,

or any other unfortunate event.

They lost a crate of weapons.

How is that not negligent?

It went missing from a trade fair which brings in

a lot of revenue to this country.

I don't think you want to tarnish the industry

over a stock taking error.

Publicly your client will be protected,

but privately I will pass on my reservations to the defense secretary.

Thank you. I can handle him.

Here's the list.

While I'm here, if you don't mind,

I'd like to raise some issues on behalf of other clients.

I do mind.

I have to get back to the Park.

The Zimbabweans would rather we close the books

on the supposed murder of a British journalist.

The Chechens would like some assets unfrozen.

And there's a Libyan conglomerate who would like compensation

for oil revenues lost due to the instability we unleashed

when we foolishly removed their charming leader.

And I would like you to leave my house.

Diana, I know you've been putting out feelers

for work in the private sector...

There are bodies on the ground, Peter.

I am not going anywhere.

You've postponed your resignation three times.

There's never a good moment to go, but when you finally make the leap,

I can help you find an extremely soft landing.

So, do bear in mind those issues I raised.

I can find my own landing.

Where are we?

Didn't you say you'd take me to the hospital?

Calm down.

I'm blind in one eye

and the bitch stabbed me with a needle.

And it's still in my thigh.

Control yourself.

This is a battlefield.

We've been here before.

We have to help him.

Give him something for the pain until we can get him seen to.

You'll draw attention if you go to the hospital.

MI5 know your injuries. They will be looking for you.

- Where are you going? - No, no, no.

- No, no, no. - Are you crazy?

What the fuck? You killed him.

He was your friend. And you killed him.

He was a soldier, he knew the risks.

If you want to be a soldier, you need to learn and understand that too.

Keep the change. Can I please have a receipt?

- There you go. Take care. - Thank you.

For fuck's sake.

Go back to bed.

I'm outside Roddy's.

Shirley told me she was keeping watch here.

I've come down to take a shift, and there's police everywhere.

They're saying it could be another attack like at Abbotsfield.

Yeah, well, get the fuck out of there before the Park show.

What's happened?

A gunman turned up. I dealt with it.

Is Roddy okay?

Yeah. Physically, yes.

Everything else is up for grabs.

And Shirley, she with you too?

Uh, she went after the gunman.

And you let her?

Yeah. Well, there wasn't exactly time to stop her,

but thanks for the feedback.

Where are you?

Debriefing Ho away from unwanted interference

which includes you.

Lamb. Oh...

This is it... 34 Priory Place.

Well, if it was a hit and she was a honey trap,

at least it means Roddy's still repulsive to women.

Does he make you feel insecure?

- No. - He's physically impressive.

What, and I'm not?

Yeah, let's just stick to what's relevant, shall we?

What the fuck is that?

Push knife.

Why have you... Put it down.

If she's in, she's innocent.

- She could have been coerced. - She was dating Roddy Ho,

obviously it involved some kind of coercion.

- The rest of the hit squad might be here. - Why?

Why would they be here if they know that Roddy has the address?

Maybe they haven't had time to clear out.

Maybe they're planning to kill anyone who shows up?

- Have you got another one of them then? - No.

What am I going to do? I'm unarmed.

- Decoy. - Fuck you. Decoy.

I'm not your decoy.

- Fuck off, you bastards! - Whoa. Whoa.

- Whoa, whoa. - Fuck off.

- Hey! - Fuck off! Fuck off.

We're MI5. We just want to ask you a few questions.

- MI what? - MI5. The Security Services.

- Can I ask you to put that down, please? - Spies? What have I done?

- Nothing. - We don't know that.

- You go to jail. - Well, you are the one with the knife.

- He got knife. - He's putting his away now. Isn't he?

Mum! Put the knife down.

Mum, give me... give me the knife, give me the knife!

I'll talk to them.

Go to sleep.

As I was just explaining, we're from MI5, okay?

And we just wanted to ask a few questions.

It's all right. Some kids

have been knocking on the door, playing pranks.

Okay. That's fine, but...

She knows you can't just stab people for that, right?

Last time they wrapped a dog shit in newspaper,

set fire to it, rang the bell.

She stamped on it to put it out. Shit everywhere.

Right, okay. Fair enough. I'd want to stab people for that.

But, um, we're looking for a woman in her twenties called Tara

and she gave this as her last address.

It's just me and my mum. What do you want with this woman?

Um...

Afraid we can't really say any more than that.

But, um, thank you. Thank you anyway.

Mum! Go to sleep! Bloody hell!

Push knife.

Push knife.

Is that them?

Must be.

Just play it cool.

Ready to do this?

Yeah. Why you asking?

Because you will probably be arrested.

- You might go to jail. - Yeah. Well, it's worth it.

Huh.

Just keep us out of it, okay?

I don't know enough about you guys to tell them anything, so...

Good.

Put this in the tanker.

Then hide out and watch the news tomorrow.

The city will be in chaos.

Cool.

Meeting some people.

Why did you tell Standish where I was?

Because she insisted, and she's part of Slough House.

Yeah, well, so is the shitter, but I don't want it following me around.

Anyone at the flat?

Just a mother and son. Nothing to do with Roddy's girlfriend.

She obviously gave him a false address.

She must be involved.

- What do you want us to do then? - Tell Coe to get his arse here.

And what about me?

Well, you could sit in the car or fuck off back to bed.

Oh, so I'm on standby then. Okay.

If it makes you feel better.

Is this because I left Shirley?

Or because I told Catherine where you were?

Either will do.

Did they find Tara?

What do you think?

- Shirley, are you okay? - She's fine.

She doesn't look it.

It turns out she's my only functioning joe

and I don't need her collapsing right now.

Move to another table, yeah.

Make some room. Or shift to the table in your flat.

Seriously.

I've... I've had it with you people

turning up like you're some kind of cavalry

rather than a flood of shit cresting a hill.

What the fuck is that?

Excuse me?

Bring... Uh, bring me some chips. Just chips.

I lost him, obviously.

Not before I stuck a used syringe in his thigh though,

so now, he's got a limp in both legs.

He's in his twenties, shaved head.

Distinguishing marks include glass lacerations

and blistering from whatever you threw in his face.

Bleach.

No, I do not have photos.

I was gonna say how come she gets to speak

and I have to write everything down?

'Cause she sticks to the salient points.

Whereas when you talk, I wanna stick a pencil in my eye

and headbutt the table.

He's a professional. He fights like an absolute bastard.

Apology.

You're the one who should be apologizing.

He got through your cordon.

Yeah.

Here's a list of weapons missing from the London Arms Fair.

Both Abbotsfield rifles are on there

as are other rifles, pistols, hand grenades.

Find them.

Shots were fired from a high-powered rifle

at an east London address earlier tonight.

Now, it's not the address we have in the system for Roddy Ho, but it...

- Roddy Ho? - Yes.

It was rented under the name Clint Wolf,

which seems like a name that would only exist in Ho's head.

Plus, someone had written Roddy on the food in the fridge.

- Why haven't you brought him in? - We're in the process of locating him.

Meaning you can't find him.

Yes.

Yeah, so...

She gave a fake address. So she was an asset, probably coerced.

Are you just gonna blank me?

- I haven't done anything wrong. - Give it time.

Okay, I'm sorry I stood down when I did.

That's all right.

No, it's not all right. Someone tried to kill her.

Twice. Still here.

Lamb.

Okay, you know what?

Can we just skip ahead here,

move past the bit where you ignore me, then you tell me I'm shit?

And we just jump straight to you telling me what you want me to do

because, to be honest, we know that you're gonna get there eventually,

and the preamble thing that you keep doing

is getting really, really fucking tedious.

You're no good to me fighting the last war.

What's that supposed to mean?

Look what I've gotta work with.

A crack up, a drunk, a psychopath and whatever the fuck that is.

All of them more functional than you.

I'm here. I'm ready.

Your world stopped when your grandpa went gaga

and your dad tried to blow you up.

Deal with it or fuck off.

You got any capacity for human sympathy?

Yeah, the person I got most sympathy for

is me for having to put up with you.

Pay the bill.

I'm out of cash and my cards will be traced.

Use your card and turn your fucking phone on.

About 20 minutes after this payment goes through,

some muscly men in suits

and a hot blonde are gonna come looking for us.

Do 'em a favor, tell 'em we've gone back to the office.

Why are we throwing Roddy to the Park?

'Cause they need to know what he's done.

And while they're getting up to speed,

it'll give me time to work out what the fuck is going on.

- What has he done? - Nothing.

Our resident pillock has been compromised.

Destabilization strategy. Cold War.

Compromising an agent is not limited to the Cold War.

Put it together with Abbotsfield

and it's what we used to do to countries that opposed our interests.

One, compromise an enemy agent.

Two, attack the village.

I've not been compromised. I have a girlfriend.

Sure, just say that. That'll buy me a shitload of time.

Look, we've always had a mutual respect, you and I,

but this is where we diverge.

In my professional opinion as an agent,

you're barking up the wrong tree.

Tara is innocent and so am I.

Okay, then what do you think is going on? In your opinion as an agent?

I think you're jealous that I'm hanging out the back of an angel

while you rub yourself raw in the dark.

- Right. - Mmm.

Ready to play your part?

What do we do about him?

We can't drive around with a dead body in the back.

And we can't just leave him here. He'll be identified.

No, he won't.

Well, it's happening everywhere, right?

And they don't want Gimball to win, right, so they smear him.

Sorry, who's "they"?

The media and the deep state.

- Oh, you mean me? - Yeah, absolutely.

Right. Sorry, Pete. You're now smearing me.

More calls, hopefully less conspiratorial after the...

Hi.

Morning, Claude.

D-Do we know each other?

Oh, sorry.

It feels like I know you 'cause I see you in the papers.

Oh, right.

I'm usually up here at the same time as you.

Although, I stroll and you run.

It's Carl.

How do you do, Carl? How do you do?

Yeah.

Spoiled for green space in this city, aren't we?

Yes. Yes, indeed we are. Mm-hmm.

Not like some European capitals.

No, I suppose.

Like Copenhagen.

Yes.

Well, you were there at a security conference in March.

Must have worked up quite the appetite

seeing as you ordered room service for two.

Is it true you quashed a caution for kerb-crawling?

I thought that would keep you at home with your wife.

You got a comment for any of that?

For Dodie Gimball's column?

Fuck. Fuck.

I jumped him. Asked him for a comment.

How did he react?

Terrified.

I'm filing the column now.

Once editorial approve it, which they will,

he'll have an official chance to respond.

I'm not likely to get near him again.

Can you get his number?

Head of MI5?

Yeah, of course. It won't be cheap though.

Do it.

All okay, sir?

Yeah, just, uh... just a member of the public.

Harmless.

You sure they're still in there?

As far as we can tell, they're just sitting there waiting for us.

Go in weapons drawn.

Eleven people were killed yesterday morning.

Ho had something to do with it.

I want Lamb to know just how serious this is.

Then perhaps for once, he'll cooperate.

Hands.

Move.

In the kitchen.

Hello.

Yeah, easy.

I'm just showing you where it is.

Not in there.

Nope, definitely not in there.

Oh, there it is.

You're Flyte's mate, yeah?

Yeah. From the Met.

You must be more used to planting guns than picking them up.

- Clear. - Ma'am.

No, thanks.

You wait outside.

If this is an on-the-spot performance review,

I have to tell you I am absolutely killing it right now.

There was an attempted hit on Roderick Ho last night.

Oh, don't play dumb.

I'm not sure you can say dumb anymore.

I think it offends the vocally impaired or idiots.

I can't remember which.

No. I'm not in the mood.

Yeah, I'm getting that vibe.

Service standing order whatever the hell it is.

- Twenty-seven three. - If you say so.

The three is in brackets.

I don't care if it's in Sanskrit. It is there for a reason.

If there's a hit on one of your team, you report it upwards.

In this case, to me.

Yeah. Well, ordinarily I would have done,

but there were special circumstances.

Which were?

I-I-I couldn't be arsed.

That's not a special circumstance, Jackson.

That's your prevailing condition.

And this time, it might just prove terminal.

Oh, you want to go to the mats, Diana, just let me know.

I've got so much dirt on you, I could start an allotment.

Well, I'm sure that will keep you busy in your forced retirement

but it certainly won't save you. Not this time.

Whelan is itching to shut down Slough House and now he has a reason.

The bullets we found at Ho's flat

came from the same gun used to execute the Abbotsfield shooter.

Fuck.

Yeah. Well, at least we're on the same page.

I'm taking Ho into the Park.

Yeah. Fair enough.

And I'm putting Slough House in lockdown.

No phones, no Internet, no one leaves.

I will not allow you to run around

muddying the waters just to save your man's skin.

Don't move.

Okay.

Come on. Upstairs.

- Synced and corrected by chamallow - - www.addic7ed.com -