All language subtitles for The Liquidator (1965)

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[PATRIOTIC MARCH PLAYING]

[CROWD CHEERING]

Hey, I think
we're lost, fellas.

MAN: What's
he done now?

We just came
through a house.

Is anybody home?

Hey, Rommel!
Huh?

Why don't you
get off your turret

and find out
where we are, huh?

Oh, yeah, well, all right.
Well, stick around,
and I'll be right back.

The sergeant is
gonna find out
where we are.

Oh, uh, gun, gun.
I forgot my gun.

Help!

Help!

Help!

I'm British.

Hey!

Hey!

[GUNSHOT]

Bloody marvelous,
sergeant.

No waste
of army ammunition.

What's your name?

What? Uh, Oakes.
7672247, TAC Corps.

Mostyn. Major,
British Intelligence.

You stay here.
I'll find someone
to clean up the mess.

Yeah, w-well,
wait a minute,
major.

It's a lovely
piece of work, old son.

I'll remember you.

[BELL CHIMING]

[CLOCK TICKING]

[GUNSHOT]

[GUNSHOT]

[GLASS SHATTERS]

[MARCH PLAYING]

Good morning, sir.

[GRUNTS]

I think
this is him now.

We've been trying
to reach you
at the club, colonel.

The chief wants
to see you.

I'll bet he does.

Good morning, Chief.

Here's a large one
for you, Mostyn.
I think you'll need it.

Sit yourself down.
Thank you.

I've just come
from the Prime Minister.

They'd like our heads,
Mostyn--

Preferably
on a silver platter

in the House of Commons
dining room.

Yes,
but damn it, sir,

we couldn't act
without evidence.

The press and the public
aren't interested in
our alibis, Mostyn.

As far as the country
is concerned,

this is another unmitigated
bloody disaster.

Hell's teeth.

I wouldn't mind if it
was an isolated case,

but it's always
happening.

And it always will,
Chief,

as long as we're
bound by the rules.

You're adopting
a very negative attitude,
if I say so, Mostyn.

They've got us
by the short
and curlies, lad,

and we've got to do
something about it
at the galloping double.

Yes, but what?

Let me see now.
How many suspects
have you at the moment

on your top secret list?

About 40.

About 40-- Every single one
a potential spy.

And we can't do
a damn thing about it

until they make a move
when the balloon goes up.

Well, that's democracy
for you, Chief.

As you just said,
they've got us by the--

Yes, yes, yes,
I know, I know.

Well, we've got to carve
our way through all that,
haven't we, little Mostyn?

I've formulated a plan.
It's drastic, distasteful,
but I can see no alternative.

Listen to me. These people,
these security risks,
no matter who they are--

The embassy boys, scientists,
civil servants, no matter who--

The moment we smell
any trouble, Mostyn--snap.

Snap?

Snap. We liquidate them.

We do what?

Liquidate them.
Dispose of them.

Give them
the wooden overcoat,

the deep six, the chop--
Do you follow me?

Chief, you'll never
get official sanction.

And who the hell's talking
about official sanction, eh?

Well, it's against
all the principles
of the Free World.

Who in the name of
the four and twenty virgins

is talking about principles,
may I ask?

Did we have principles
in wartime?

Mostyn, we've got
to dam the floods,
stem our security leaks.

We've got to throw
their intelligence cells
out of gear,

regain the trust
of our allies. Ha ha!

To say nothing of saving
our own fat, greasy necks,
thank you very much.

Well?

I think it's
ruddy marvelous.

Ha ha ha!
I thought you might.

Instead of scandals,
my dear little boy,
we'll have accidents--

Neat, unfortunate,
fatal...accidents.

What a pity.

The chiefs of staff
would never agree.

Oh, my poor boy,
haven't you got it
even yet?

I have no intention
of telling the blasted
chiefs of staff.

I'm not going to even
tell our own people.

Just you and I
and the man who operates

when you press
the button.

Zzz...kch!

Find the man
and train him--
No cheap crooks.

Go through your files,
search your memory,
you'll find him.

A private executioner?

Precisely.

We can afford
a good salary to get
the right chap.

What's the price
of loyalty these days?
I'm out of touch.

6,000 a year or so
with extras.

Perhaps a bit
of crumpet on the side.

Then you're just
the little fellow

to arrange that,
aren't you?

But, Chief, this is
tantamount to murder.

Then go and find
a murderer.

PRIEST: Forasmuch as
it has pleased almighty God
in his great mercy

to take unto himself the soul
of our brother here departed,

we therefore commit his body
to the ground...

earth to earth, ashes to ashes,
dust to dust

in sure and certain hope
of the resurrection

to eternal life.

Remember me,
Sergeant Oakes?

Oh, hello...
uh, Paris.
Mmm.

Ha. Major, uh...

Mostyn, old son.
Colonel now.

Oh, fancy
seeing you.

Oh, I don't know.
Our paths were bound
to cross.

I believe the nickname's
Boysie, isn't it?

How'd you
find that out?

I just thought
I'd look you up.

After all, you did
save my life, didn't you?

Yes,
I guess I did.

When I heard
you were running
a cafe around here,

I thought
I'd call round
for a cup of tea.

But the place
was closed,

and someone told me
to try the cemetery.

Yeah.
My, uh, partner died.

Oh, my condolences.
An accident?

Yes. He fell off
a ladder.

Of course.
On his head.

Death's no stranger
to you, is it, Boysie?

That's a funny thing
to say.

On his head, eh?
Careless chap.

Uh, do you mind
if we get out of here?

This is hardly
the place to, uh...

To talk about death?
You're quite right.

Let's find somewhere
more congenial.

[ROCKABILLY MUSIC PLAYING]

[CAR DOORS CLOSE]

Sorry, Boysie.
I didn't know
you had company.

Don't worry.
I'll get rid of him
as quick as I can.

Hmm? Not on
my account, lovey.

Here. Come on.

MOSTYN: Fascinating.
Multicolored tits.

Eh?

Where'd you get
this little lot?

Oh.

[BIRDS CHIRPING]

Well, my partner
Phil Redfern was
a bird fancier.

Ha ha! So are you,
old Boysie.

You've got three other
birds like that

with whom you operate
in strict rotation.

No wonder you stayed
in England.

Well, what the hell
is all this?

Have you been
checking up on me?

A little.
Business not doing
very well, is it?

What? Oh, I see.

You're from one
of those blasted
finance companies.

Ah, relax, old chum.

I'm not here
to take away
the refrigerator.

You'd better
take a look at this.

Security? N-now, wait.
What's the matter?

Don't be alarmed,
old son.

I'm not a real copper.

Besides, nobody believes
you pushed your partner
off the ladder.

Now, listen,
cut that out.

Did I touch
a raw nerve, old son?

He fell
off the ladder.

Yes, of course.
Oakesie, I've come
to offer you a job.

What? Who with?

The department.
A well-paid job,
I might add.

Your crowd?
Ha ha! Me?

Of course, it would mean
leaving this delightful
corner of the world

and coming to London.

No more necking
every Thursday with
the town clerk's wife.

Who told you that?

Fortunately,
she wasn't pregnant.

We don't want to leave
any mementos behind, do we?

Of course, there'll be
compensations.

The money we pay you
will allow you a nibble
at the old dolce vita.

The what?

The sweet life.

The sweet--
Oh, yeah, very funny.

Okay, you've had
your little game.

Thanks for calling.
Now, get out.

Oakes!

Don't you play
the yokel with me.

This discussion
is confidential.

It's absolutely confidential,
do you understand?

Ahem. Yes, sir.

Do you think I'd spend
weeks checking up on you
to waste my time--

The government's time,
Oakes?

I don't like to be
fooled around,

so don't you
fool me around.

Now, let's discuss this
in a rational way.

Yeah, well, uh,
wh-what kind of job
is it?

Well,
first things first.

I want us to be
friends, Boysie.

Oh. You-- You
mentioned money.

Precisely.
I think you'll
find us generous.

I want you
to place yourself
in my hands.

Let me take you away
from all this.

[BOSSA NOVA MUSIC PLAYING]

Like it?

Are you kidding?
It's fantastic.

Who lives here?

You do.

Good morning.

Good morning.

Miss Benedict,
Mr. Oakes.

Hello.
Miss Benedict.

You think
of everything,
don't you?

Ahem.

Well, would you
like to see the rest
of the apartment?

Well, we can
do that anytime.

Uh, what's
your first name?

Janice.

Janice.
Uh, Boysie.

Do you like the decor?

Mmm. Absolutely
marvelous.

I'm so glad.

It's very nice
indeed, my dear.

You send
your account to
the usual place.

Of course.

W-wait a minute.
You're not
leaving now?

Well, as long
as you're happy
with the apartment--

Miss Benedict is
an interior decorator.

Oh, well,
I'm not really sure

about the wallpaper
in the bedroom.

You haven't seen
the wallpaper
in the bedroom.

Well, I mean, in case
I don't like it,

would you leave
your telephone number,
and I can call you?

Please do.

Who are you?

I'm Miss Benedict's
assistant.

Oh, well,
about the wallpaper
in the bedroom...

Same number.

You may become known as
the stud of Bertram Place,
me old son.

Ha ha!
Colonel, I am hooked.

I'd be crazy to say no
to all this.

Let's both agree
you're not crazy.

Yes, but you still
haven't told me
what I'm supposed to do.

All in good time.

Aah!

Ha ha ha!

Why don't you
pour us all
a drink?

Whiskey?

I say, that's
terribly kind of you.

[BRITISH ACCENT]
Oh, it's my pleasure.

[WHISTLING QUIETLY]

Just sign here,
old Boysie. Ahem.

What's this?

Official
Secrets Act.

And this one,
old chap.

Just one more.

Oh, I nearly
forgot the receipt
for your car. Heh!

Huh.

Cheers.

Cheers.
Cheers.

If he's not at
his Moscow number, try Brighton.

Thank you, dear.
Chief.

Hello.
I found the man.

What man?
He's a killer.

Conceals it
beautifully,

but I never
make mistakes.

He's a born
death merchant.

So?

Simply reporting that
your little scheme
is underway, sir.

Your scheme,
number two, yours.

You know the rules,
don't you?

I've never heard
of your filthy
little plans.

If you fall
on your backside
from a great height,

you know
where you'll be.

On my own.

Precisely.

[BOSSA NOVA MUSIC PLAYING]

WOMAN: You can
turn over now, Boysie.

You're done on this side.

Have you got that nice,
warm-all-over feeling?

Mm-hmm. Oh...

[TELEPHONE RINGS]

Hello.

MOSTYN:
If you can spare a minute
to get off the nest...

What?

I would like to remind you
that life is not all sex
and sunlamps.

You start serious
training tomorrow.

Early.
[HANGS UP]

Bah.

Boysie?

No more sunlamps
after tonight, darling.
I have to start work.

Boysie...

I'm glowing.

[GUNSHOTS]

No, no. Too low!
Anticipate.

What do you mean,
anticipate?

What the hell do you think
I'm trying to do?

MAN: Keep
your head down.

It is down!

Don't bounce about
like a jack-in-the-box!

I'll give you
jack-in-the-box
when I get out of this!

Come on now!
No, no. Too low.

[SHOOTS]

Good progress, Robins?
Good morning.

Morning, sir.
Hey, listen.

When do I get back
to town and do
some spying?

This commando stuff
went out with the war.

Everything you do here
will be put to good use.

Yeah, well, all I
do here is learn
how to kill people.

Presumptuous of us,
but think of it
as a finishing course.

Hey, who's that?

My secretary.
Hmm.

In case the blood
is stirring in
your lecherous veins,

let me tell you
rule number one:

spies are not allowed
to meet with office birds
after hours.

Really?
Yes, Oakes. Really.

"Civilian staff
are forbidden--"

Section "B,"
para 2--

"To communicate,
consort or assemble

with active serving members
of the department."

Violation of this is
punishable by up to
10 years imprisonment.

Do you get the message?

Oh, I get
the message.

Carry on, Robins.

Very good, sir.

[OAKES SHOOTING]

[BOYSIE LAUGHING]

Oof! Oh...

Too slow.
Ow!

MAN: Come on!
Pay attention.

[CHOKING]

Oh, excuse me. Ahem.

I haven't really met
your secretary, have I?

Uh!

We're leaving now, Iris.
Wait for me in the car.

We still have
a lot to learn,
haven't we, old son?

Keep it up.

39.

Arms up.

Oh, we are big across
the chest, aren't we?

Watch it.
43.

That will be all.
Thank you, sir.

Now, sir,

this first glass,
if you please.

An Americano
with arsenic.

Good.

A cyanide sidecar.

A Manhattan
with prussic acid.

That's very nasty.
Good.

Coca-cola.
Ah.

And finally, sir,

which martini
would you take?

The one without
the microphone.

Well, Boysie.

Well, colonel.

We made it.

Yes, sir.

Brandy, gentleman?

The Courvoisier
Grand Reserve.

If it's the 1914.

Sir.

Graduation day
with honors.

Thank you, sir.

Tomorrow you become
operational.

Oh, so soon?

I've come to
like you, Boysie.

Not a bad scout
yourself, sir.

And admire you.

You're smarter than
the average agent,

old Boysie.
Oh.

Just what little thing
did you have in mind

for me to start on?

Ah, the brandy.

Thank you.

If I may propose
a toast...to "L."

"L" is your official
identification.

"L."

Does that stand for
anything in particular?

Yes.

Are you fit?

Yes.

Ready to step into
the front line?

Yes.

By the way,
when do I meet

the rest of
the chaps, sir?

You don't, old son.
You don't.

Why not?

Fascinating, this place.

You see that chap--
Mr. Griffen?

Do you know who he is?

No. Listen, are you
gonna tell me--

Just filling you in,
old son.

After all, this is the world
you're going to be moving in.

And you fit the part.

You're as much at home here
as anyone else in the place.

Thank you, sir.
Listen, you gonna tell me

what my job's
gonna be?

Let's not worry
about old Charlie.

Charlie's a murderer.

Ha ha! What?

No, don't look around.
He'll embarrass you.

That's his gospel,
Boysie.

If anyone wants to get rid
of their sainted aunt,

old Griffen'll oblige
for a few hundred pounds.

Why doesn't somebody
arrest him?

Oh, he's too careful
for that.

Okay, so our neighbor's
a murderer.

It's all
very fascinating,

but what the hell's
it got to do with me?

Everything.

"L," I omitted
to tell you,

stands for "liquidator."

What?

I'll give it to you
straight, old man.

No more romping around
the mulberry bush.

You're a special
special agent.

Your job is
to kill for us.

You're bloody mad.

Mr. Griffen is
your counterpart,

in a manner of speaking.

He works for
private enterprise.

Nothing to do with us.

You've been nationalized.

Kill? Who?

People.

Me?

I couldn't kill
a fly.

You're not bad
with people, Boysie.

I've seen you,
remember?

What do you--
You don't mean Paris?

Now look,
that-- That was--

It was in wartime.

This is a kind of war.

You'll kill as
a soldier kills,

for queen and country,
under orders.

And you're under
orders now.

You sucked me into this,

you horrifying
old monster.

Control yourself.

You rotten old devil.
Do you think I'm going
to sit still for this?

You get yourself
a Mr. Griffen, because
you haven't got me, pal.

You have not got me.

I'll go to
the newspapers.

Not after you've been
to prison for 20 years

for blowing
the Official Secrets Act.

What'll you do after that,
go back to the Bird Cafe?

Won't you miss the car
and the flat

and all the other little
trinkets that go with it?

Don't be ridiculous,
Boysie.

You belong to this life.

You couldn't do
without it.

MOSTYN: Name,
Frances Anne Chandler.

Age 35.

She handles top-secret
war office files.

For a year, we know

she's been passing
vital information.

Until now,
we couldn't touch her.

Last week,

she booked a holiday flight
to Zurich,

but her real destination
was further east.

If we arrest her,

we cause
a security scandal.

If she goes,

she takes too many
secrets with her.

There's really only
one thing we can do.

Here. Read that.

And you'll know her
as well as if

you'd slept with her.

Probably better.

You have four days.

I suggest a rail accident.

Remember your training, L.

Your code alert is
the word "pressure."

While a state of
pressure exists,

you're on your own.

Pressure?

[TRAIN APPROACHING]

Oh!

Oh.

Heavens.

Nearly had it
that time.

MAN: All aboard.

Wh-where's Mostyn?

Dining with a duchess.

Oh.

Oh, well.

I was just passing by

and thought I'd buy
old J.G. a drink.

We almost met once.

I'm Iris Macintosh.

Yes, we almost did.
I-- I tried.

So I noticed.

So...

You're Boysie Oakes.

You're very hush-hush.

Oh, am I?

The mysterious
Mr. Oakes,

code name "L."

The colonel keeps your file
in the secret secret drawer.

Oh, does he?

[KNOCK ON DOOR]

I thought I heard
voices, miss.

He came to see
number two.

Show him your card.

What?
Show him your card.

Oh, yes.

I'm just finishing up,
Bert.

Good night, miss.
Good night, sir.

Good night.

That won't get you
into trouble, will it?

Bylaw number
whatever number it is,

no fraternizing?
Why should it?

You came to see
the colonel.

I'll tell him
in the morning.

You don't have
to do that.

I'd much rather
have a drink with you.

Ha ha! That would be
living dangerously.

That might be worth it.

Shall we go?

After you.

Oh, that's
your exit.

Civilian staff
this way.

Good night,
Mr. Oakes.

What a marvelous
coincidence.

Going my way?
Which way?

Uh...
my place for coffee?

Well, we have been
introduced.

The invitation is
just resistible...

tonight.
But ...ha ha!

There may not be
another night.

That's up to you,
Boysie, isn't it?

Taxi!

Good morning.

Mr. Griffen?

Mr. Oakes.

Won't you come in?

No trouble here, sir.

I find in my trade,

the open places
are the best.

Oh. Mr. Griffen--

Now, there's no need
to be embarrassed.

I've been in this trade
a long time.

After you telephoned,

I took the liberty of
checking on you.

Oh?

Oh, it's nothing.

One has to be wary
of police.

Oh, yes.
And newspapermen.

Yes. Well,
what did you find out?

That you appear to
be a man about town,

if you'll forgive
the expression.

Now, sir, who do
you have in mind?

Mother-in-law?

Ha ha ha!

Your little joke,
Mr. Griffen.

It helps, sir.
It helps.

There may be,
from time to time,

more than one.

We'll do our best
to accommodate you,

Mr. Oakes.
No questions.

Absolutely none,
Mr. Oakes.

Frances Anne Chandler.

I was thinking perhaps
a-- A rail accident.

Yes.

[TRAIN APPROACHING]

Aah!

[PEOPLE SCREAMING AND SHOUTING]

A very smooth job,
Oakesie.

Congratulations.

Poor Frances Anne
has gone to rest,

safe, at last,
on Abraham's breast...

which may be rough
on Frances Anne.

But certainly sexy
for Abraham.

Ha ha ha!

Ha ha ha!

[COUGHS]

[CHOKING]

Aah!

[TIRES SQUEALING]

George Renwick,
physicist,

Nuclear Research
Center.

It's all
in the envelope.

Physicist.

Um...

We've never
really talked,

have we,
Mr. Griffen?

Never.

Oh, I see what you mean.

Um...

it's all
rather like a war,

and sometimes it--
It bothers me here.

Dyspepsia.

They're all enemies,
and they deserved it,

but...

If you say so,
Mr. Oakes.

On the other hand...

Look, sir, I wouldn't,
if I were you.

Never does to
probe too deep,

if you know
what I mean.

Aren't you ever
curious?

No, not me, sir.

I long ceased to wonder

at the foolishness
of my fellow men.

I started life
as an undertaker,

so quite early on
I got used to

the inevitability
of it all.

Well, good-bye,
Mr. Oakes.

See you
next time around.

It's only dyspepsia.

[FOGHORN HONKS]

I don't know if
it's my imagination
or not, Mostyn,

but these gatherings
seem to be
thinning out a bit.

Ha ha ha!

What's the matter
with you? Hungry?

Want something to eat?
Want some more caviar?

Please, sir, excuse me.

I'll come with you.
I must find old Carruthers.

Have you seen him?
Is he here tonight?

Haven't you
been told, Chief?

Told what? What are
you talking about?

Not--
Mmm.

Oh, I say, that's going
a bit far, isn't it?

War is hell, sir.

Old Bertie?
I can hardly believe it.

Well, well.

Darling,
I am a desperate man.

Unless you have dinner
with me tomorrow night,

I'm going to
tell the colonel
we're secret lovers.

That's blackmail.

It's inevitable.

So just
why not enjoy it?

Colonel Mostyn.
Colonel Chekov.

Quiet?

We keep busy.

Here he comes.
Quick, make up your mind.

Careful.

You would do well to reread
section 2, para "B."

Come, my dear.

Let's meet
some important people.

MOSTYN: Good evening, sir.
Pleasure to see you here.

Haven't had the pleasure
of meeting your wife.

Hello, dear.

[HUMMING]

[DOORBELL RINGS]

Am I too early?

You could never be
too early, darling.

Oh.

Yeah, it's not a bad
little place, is it?

Would you care
for a drink?

A small sherry.

[MUSIC PLAYING]

Where did you book
for dinner?

Somewhere discreet,
I hope.

Discreet? Well, uh...

What could be more discreet
than right here?

Lots of places,
darling.

You know, honey,

flesh and blood
can stand just so much.

What does that mean,
Boysie?

You are
driving me crazy.

It works both ways,
love.

[MOANS]

Oh, darling,
it's all so dangerous.

All these stupid rules.

And Uncle Mostyn has
a knack of finding out.

Oh, Uncle Mostyn.
He can't be that smart.

Could you outsmart him?

Give me half the chance.

Well...

I was thinking
of palm trees,

sea breezes...

somewhere
nice and sunny.

Ahem.

You don't mean
out of England?

Next weekend?

[DOORBELL RINGS]

MOSTYN: Boysie?

It's Mostyn!
On the balcony!

Good evening.

Hello there, colonel.
Caught me lying down.

Who with?

Ha ha ha!

I know that perfume.

Perfume?
Oh, aftershave.

Mmm. Lovely.
Yeah, glad you think.

Well, what's this,
a social call?

No, it's not
a social call.

It's pressure,
me old son.

Ah, pressure.
Mm-hmm.

It's all in there.

Three days for this one.

Roger.

You're not fooling me,
Boysie.

What's that, colonel?

You're a fake.

You want a drink?

No, thank you.

What do you mean,
a fake?

This dispassionate act
you put on.

You enjoy your work.

How many is it now,
12?

Yeah.
Yeah, about that.

Enjoying yourself?

Shouldn't I?

All the risks
I take for you?

I'm not complaining.

Oh, by the way,
when I'm not
operational,

my time's my own,
isn't it?

I mean, especially
on weekends?

Yes, I think
we can say that.

But always remember,
old Oakes,

at all times,

your soul belongs
to the department.

At all times.

At all times.

Ooh.

Ooh is right.

Look out!

Oh.

Now, where were we?

Next weekend,
firm date.

Firm date.

And no worries
about the rules or...

10 years in the tower.

Well, that's up to you
to prove it's worth it,
darling.

Yeah.

When we get there.

[BELL RINGS]
P.A.: British European Airways

announce departure
of their flight,

flight BE-104, to Nice.

Would passengers please make
their way to channels 3 and 4

for passport control.

You look like
a bride.

I feel like
a criminal.

See you at
the taxi rank
in Nice.

P.A.:
British European Airways...

[ANNOUNCEMENT CONTINUING
IN FRENCH]

Thank you.

Thanks.
And you, sir?

[AIR HISSING]

Thank you.

First time?

No, it happens
every time.

There are more people
killed in road accidents

than air crashes.

Morning, Iris.

Oh, it's Jessie, sir.

Miss Macintosh is on leave
for the weekend.

Good morning, Jessie.
[TELEPHONE RINGS]

Shall I answer that?

No, get me some coffee.
Mostyn.

Fly.
Who?

This is Fly, sir.

Oh, well,
hello, Buttons.

Ha ha!

And what can we do
for you, old Fly?

I thought I should
report, sir,

one of your boys has
just left for Nice.

Who might that be?

L, sir.
What?

L, sir.

I heard you, man. When?

Oh, a few moments ago,
by B.A.E. Trident.

And your secretary,
miss what's-her-name,
was on the same plane.

Iris? Iris Macintosh?

She's on leave, sir.

Shut up!

Oh, all right, sir.

No, not you, old Fly.
Were they together?

No, sir.

They didn't even seem
to know each other.

That bloody well
proves it.

[DIAL TONE]

That Judas.

The conceited, slippery,

ungrateful, treacherous
strutting peacock!

Overpaid, oversexed...
and over there.

Your coffee, sir.

Get out!

They must be mad.

[DOOR CLOSES]

Number two here, Blair.

Blair, who is our man
on the Cote d'Azur?

We made it.

Ha! Of course.

My dear, time to go.

Oh, cheri,
I like it here.

The sooner we get
this job over,

the sooner you'll earn
lots of lovely money.

Lead me to him.

London advises
there is a woman in tow,

a little difficulty...

you can overcome
very easily.

The coordinator
for the operation

is also expected here
on the Riviera.

Oh, big deal.

Oh, it may be,
my dear.

[P.A. ANNOUNCEMENT
IN FRENCH]

Air France
announce the departure

of their flight AF-642
to Rome.

All passengers please...

Good morning, sir.

Hi. Thank you.

That's him.

That's our baby.

Is that him?

Where you go,
sir, please?

Huh? Oh, um, uh...

Hotel Napoleon,
Monte Carlo.

Yes, sir. Bon.

[SPEAKING FRENCH]

Huh? Oh, no, no.

Uh, wait.

Une fille. Une femme...

uh...uh...

How the hell do you say
"I'm waitin' for my wife?"

[SPEAKING FRENCH]

Jolly good.

Here you go.

Merci,
monsieur.

Mercy.

Darling, it's sunny
and it's safe,

and nobody, but nobody
knows we're here.

Ha ha ha!

Oh, what
a beautiful view.

Magnificent.

Ha ha ha!

You know what to do,
my dear.

Be a good girl.
Make it look natural.

We'd better get on
with it, cheri,

because if we don't,
they will.

All right,
all right. Go.

Allo? Allo?

[SPEAKING FRENCH]

Darling, it's fabulous,
just fab!

Ha ha ha!

Alone at last.

Ooh.

Darling,
give me a chance.

That's what I had
in mind.

Mmm.

[TELEPHONE RINGS]

[RING]

[RING]

Hello?

Bonjour, monsieur.

This is the maitre
d'hotel speaking.

May I present to you
my compliments

and advise you that we
are serving the luncheon

in the main dining room.

Yeah, well,
bonjour to you too,

but I think
we'll skip lunch.

I'm starving.

Second thoughts,
we'll have lunch.

Tres bien, monsieur.

And also, may I offer
you a little aperitif?

Ah, very well.
Certainement, monsieur.

I will reserve
a table for you

by the swimming pool.

Marvelous.
Thank you.

Table by the pool
for lunch.

[MUFFLED]

Ha ha ha!

Champagne?

Give me 10 minutes
to freshen up.

Mmm.

Champagne.

Well done, vicar.

No, don't do anything.

I'll get in touch with you
if I need you.

Weather nice
and sunny out there?

English papers
arriving all right?

Getting your Church Times?

Ha ha!

Jolly good.

Bye.

The last thing we want
is for him to stir it up.

Oh!

I'm terribly sorry.

Oh, you have to
be English.

A Frenchman would never
turn around like that.

Oh, really?

I-- I'm sorry.
You all right?

I think I twisted
my ankle.

Oh. Oh, your ankle.

I've got to
find you a doctor.

If you could just
take me to the car.

Oh.
Please.

Oh, wait, wait.

Maybe we could, uh...

Do it better
like that.

Oh.

Aren't you strong?

Ha ha ha!
Ha ha!

Is it much further?

It's over there.
Ah.

You're the best,
you really are.

That's a good girl.

There we are.

Uh-- Uh, bonjour.

Uh, excusez-moi.

Uh, malade.

Aah!

[WOMAN SCREAMING
AND CRYING]

WOMAN: Don't kill me!

[MUFFLED SHOUTING]

WOMAN: Help!

[TELEPHONE RINGING]

Darling!
Where are you?

I'm in London, Mrs. Oakes,
and it's raining.

Oh, colonel...

Yes, it's your old
Uncle Mostyn.

How's hubby?

Ohh...

He-- He's out.

But how did you...

Find out?

Ha ha! I have spies
everywhere, lovey.
You should know that.

Monte Carlo
is a wonderful place
for a weekend, isn't it?

I've thought of it myself
from time to time.

Now you listen to me,
Mrs. Brian Ian Boysie Oakes.

[SPEAKING INDISTINCTLY]
Yes.

Yes, colonel.

Yes, colonel,
yes, I'll tell him.

Bye.

[GROWLS]

Iris Macintosh
in the clear, sir.

She was due
for weekend leave.

Damn Iris.
There's something
not quite right.

I get a click here.

Do you really, sir?
I get a twinge
here, sir.

Inbuilt
warning system.

It's absolutely
infallible.

Do you feel it now?

Yes, I-- I do, sir.

Sit down, Martin.

What you're going to hear
is ultimate top secret.

It's about L.

Ohh.

Lie still.

Don't try to move.

Thank heaven
you're all right.

Oh, somebody
really belted me.

On the back of the head.

Yeah, but why?

I don't know.

I was hoping
you'd tell me.

Uh-- Terrible taste
in my mouth.

They stuck a needle
in your arm.

Are you all right?

More or less.

[GROAN]

It's 5:00.

We've been here
nearly two hours.

Oh, no!

What do they want
with us?

I-- I don't know.

It's got to be
some kind of a mistake.

If I don't get back
to the villa,

Daddy is going
to be worried stiff.

Now wait a minute.
Maybe that's it.

What?
Is-- Is Daddy rich?

Quite flush.

That's it-- Ransom.
They're after you.

Ooh, I hope not.

Now listen,
listen, miss, uh...

Wit.
Weet.

But there's no sense
in being formal here.

You can call me Corale.

Corale. Well,
my name's Boysie.

Boy-see?

Oh, Boysie.
Well, I like that.

Ha ha!

But, Corale,
this could be
very serious.

Oh, but you'll look
after me, won't you?

Yes, I'll try.

[FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING]

Don't let him see
you're scared.

The girl stays.
You come.

Ugh! Oh...

[DOOR SLAMMING]

Hello, Mr. Oakes.
Come in.

Make yourself comfortable.

Sit down.
What?

Sit down!

Wait a minute!
What is this
all about?

You and I, Mr. Oakes,
we both know what
this is all about.

Now look, whoever
the hell you are,

I demand my release,
and Miss Wit's,
immediately.

Do you realize
my wife has probably
phoned the consul--

Your wife?
Ha ha ha ha!

Well, I doubt,
Mr. Oakes, if in your
particular capacity,

a wife is considered
an asset.

Gregory, fetch the girl.

Wha-- Leave her alone!
Leave her out of this!

Hmm. I see you
like her, Mr. Oak--

Gregory, just a minute.

Wait. First I will
show friend here

some of our more
interesting toys.

Hi.

This, Mr. Oakes...
this is the strappado.

The what?

You never heard of
strappado?

Oh, ha ha ha!

Yakov is most efficient
with the strappado.

And that chair
you sit in, Mr. Oakes,

we do not
use it to pull
the teeth out.

No.

Wh-what are you trying
to do, frighten me?

With your record,
we wouldn't even
presume to try.

The simple fact
we still have
to establish is,

why are
you here?

You don't know
a damn thing!

Ha ha! Your name is
Brian Ian Oakes.

You're known by
a slightly
ridiculous and--

Forgive me
for saying so, but--

A rather effeminate
nickname of Boysie.

Hmm. Boysie...
Boysie.

Your special
security code
letter is "L."

Your occupation,
hired assassin.

Look, I don't know
where you get
your information,

but this is just
a bunch of nonsense!

Now I'm asking you
the question again.
Why are you here?

Because you brought me here,
you screaming old nit.

Now, Mr. Oakes,

please, no more
of that kind
of insolence.

For the last time,

why are you in France,
and who is your target?

Look, I swear to you,
I don't know what
you're talking about.

I came here for a quiet
weekend holiday with my wife.

Weekend holiday
with his wife.

Oh, you're a very
foolish man,
Boysie Oakes.

And now
we shall try again.

You will have to
tell me why are
you here

and who you've
been sent to kill,

or my boys here will
use their talents

on the shapely body
of Miss Wit.

After which we shall
kill you, Mr. Oakes.

Extremely slowly.

Meditate on
those things.

Meditate.

Hmm.

Mr. Oakes? No, madame.
We have paged him.
He is not in the hotel.

Thanks.

What's going to happen to us?
Why have they got us here?

Look, i-it's all
a terrible mistake.

I work for the
government, sure,

but I'm just sort of
a civil servant.

The government.
Goodness. You mean,
something secret?

Now look,
they think I'm on
a hush-hush job.

Aren't you?

I'm here on
a blasted holiday!

A simple,
blasted holiday.

Oh, I'm sorry,
it's not your fault.

I'm sorry. Here,
you want a cigarette?

Anyway, they're coming
back for me in one hour
to question me

and then take you
with me, and, and...

It's gonna be
very rough.

Oh, don't.

We'll think about that
when it happens.

Well, what are we gonna
do in the meantime?

Oh, take our minds off it.
That's best, isn't it?

[HUMMING]

Gregory! More coffee!

[DOORBELL RINGING]

Yes? What do you want?

Baudelaire?
I'm Chekov.

Huh?

If only we could
sell the house
and go back to Moscow.

What you ta--?

Oh, yes, yes, yes.
Of course, the password.

Yes.

Um, uh, just a minute,
just a minute. Uh...

Life is just a bowl
of cherry orchards, no?

No.
No? Hmm. Uh...

Well, of course.

But first we must
cut down the orchard.

Hmm.

Well, my dear fellow,
come in, come in, please.

You'll have some
coffee, hmm, please?

Some of that
Bisquit Dubouche,
perhaps?

Gregory, another cup.

No coffee,
no brandy.

Stay outside.

Is, uh, something wrong,
Chekov?

What were your orders,
Baudelaire?

You mean what were--

Your orders, man.
Repeat them.

Well, uh...
I was contacted

and given
the dossier of
this Englishman,

this "L."

I was told to--
To cover his arrival,
to identify him...

And await
further instructions.

Yes, yes,
it's true, Chekov,

but we had
the opportunity
to apprehend him.

Yes, we were told that
he's highly dangerous,

so we wished to impress
you and the coordinator
of our integrity.

The coordinator
is impressed only
with your stupidity.

Yes, but, Chekov,

we've been just
interrogating him

to find out
why he is here.

We know why he is here.
He is on holiday.

Ha ha ha! That's
what he told us,

but I didn't
believe him.

I thought that--

Who cares what you thought,
you imbecile?

You've threatened one
of the biggest operations
we've ever planned.

But, Chekov,
I didn't know!

I just-- Well, I--

Well, I thought
it was a question
of initiative, of--

Get him out of here.
Arrange an escape,
and make it real.

I want him back in the hotel,
and quick, before somebody
raises the alarm.

Oh, yes, yes,
of course,
of course, yes.

How many people
in the house?

Uh, me
and my two men.

Oh, yes, and the
girl, but, uh, she
knows very little.

Simply in it
for the money
I give her.

I used her
as the bait.

Drop her.
Yes, yes, of--

Get rid of her.

Do I make myself clear?

Yes, sir. Of course.

I understand, Chekov.

And the rest of you,
stay undercover until
you hear from us.

Yes, sir.

And this time, Mr. Sheriek--
Yes, sir?

No blunders.

Oh, no, no blunders
this time, sir.

Good night, Chekov.
Drive carefully.

Gregory!

Gregory, where are you?

GREGORY, IN DISTANCE:
Coming!

Oh.

GREGORY:
I heard, excellency.
I brought the girl.

Oh, he's a dish, Sheriek.
What's the matter?

Shh!

My dear,
the ball is over.

We must get
him out of here--
Allow him to escape.

And you, sweetheart,
you will have to go
with him.

In other words, darling,
you've made a muck of it.

Well, we've slightly
overplayed our hand.

Here.
This is for you.

How do we get out?

Take the car.

Hey, listen.
Where is Yakov?

He went to the village
to buy some cognac.

We must warn him.
Sure.

And, Gregory...
make sure he knows.

Sure, sure.

What'd they want?

More questions.
I think there's some
kind of panic on.

Mmm. Oh, you're
quite a Boysie.

W-wait a minute.
Something's wrong.

What?

He left the key in the door.
Camel face has goofed.

Oh, darling,
you're wonderful.

What are we
waiting for?

What? It could be
some kind of trap.

Well,
I am frightened.

We ought to get out
while we can.

Huh? Yeah.

Well, keep close
behind me. Come on.

Shh!

Where the hell are they?
I don't like this.

Maybe the keys
are in the car.

What?

Yeah. Come on.

MAN: Hey!

Yakov! No!
Oh, no!

Shoot.

[GUNSHOT]

Now.

[GUNSHOT]

Sorry, baby.

Gregory, shoot him,
but for God's sake,
miss him.

[GUNSHOTS]

Miss him. Again. Good.

[GUNSHOT]

Well, come on!

Yakov! Yakov, stop!

Gregory!

Gregory,
stop that idiot!

We should have stuck to
thieving, you and I.

My dear, it was
much more honest.

[SCREAMING]

[ENGINE REVVING]

WOMAN: Mr. Oakes?

Darling, why can't you
tell me what happened?
I've been going crazy.

Give me that, honey.

I didn't know
what to do.

I even rang
the hospital.

Oh, darling,
can't you tell me
what's wrong?

Or is it the job,
the department?

Honey, I'll keep
your name out of it,

but I've got
to call Mostyn.

You mustn't.

I know all hell's
gonna break loose,
but I've got to.

Boysie, he rang us.

What?

Just after you left.

He found out
about us.

Well, that's it.
That's the end.

That's the court-martial,
10 years in the tower.

No, no, darling.
It's not so bad.

He's not going to
take it up with
the chief.

What?

The point is,
there's a job
for you.

You're operational.

Oh, no.

Oh, darling, I know it
messes up our weekend,

but at least
we're off the hook.

Well, what did he say?

Not to get in touch.

Yeah, but wh-what else?
He must have said
something--a word.

Oh, that.

Well, he just said
to tell you,
"pressure."

Ha ha ha!

[KNOCK ON DOOR]

Good evening.

L? I'm Quadrant.

Who?

You're supposed
to say, "coronet."

to which I reply,
"and ermine
to you, sport."

What?

Of course,
I'm not surprised
you're in the dark.

You really must
pick up your mail.

So, this is
the lovely Iris?

Naughty boy.

What is it, Boysie?

It's a code message
from London.

To tell you
to pick me up
at nice airport

one hour ago.
Never mind. I took a taxi.

Where did you get this?

At the desk,
old darling.

You'd better
decode it to make
sure I'm genuine.

Well, don't worry, pal.
I intend to.

Iris, old sport,

I'm afraid
you aren't allowed
to stay in here

while I'm briefing
the boyfriend.

What would you
like her to do,

go for a walk
in her negligee?

No, afraid not.

Orders are
to stay
in the hotel.

We can't have her
cruising around
like that, can we?

Why don't I take a bath?

Or is that against orders?

Seems a reasonable
thought.

You'll, uh, keep
the taps running,
won't you?

There's a good girl. Excuse me.

[DOOR CLOSES]

Okay, you're all right.

Jolly good.
Well, let's try it
again, shall we?

Well, I'm Quadrant.

Coronet.

And an ermine
to you, sport.

Well done.

You didn't
put a foot wrong
that time, did you?

Better sign
the old doodah,
for a starter.

But it's--

That's the one, L.
That's your boy.

The Duke of--
Quite.

Not Prince--
Precisely.

What's the game,
Quadrant?

Who's trying to be funny?

Ha ha ha!
Oh, dear, your face.

Mostyn said
to watch your face.

Shut up and explain this!

He said he'd give
a month's pay
to see your face.

Listen, you grinning oaf,

I'm not gonna
bump him off.
I like him.

Shh. Simmer down.
Fun's over.

I should bloody well
think so.

Who's the real target?

The duke is.

Now, now, wait
a minute, relax.

He's in on it.

It's not
a real operation.

It's a...
security exercise.

What?

You're not really
going to shoot him.

You'll be using
blanks.

Oh.

One of those, huh?

Yes. He's visiting
the Royal Air Force
station at Gayborough.

It's a little game
of spies and assassins,
with V.I.P. backing,

simply to test
their security.

Quite fun.

Yeah, quite fun.

Yes, well,
we'll see you
in the morning.

Right. There's one
tiny surprise.

Yeah? What's that?

The duke's visit is
tomorrow morning.

You and I
and the girlfriend

are booked on
the plane back tonight.

Aw, no!
Sorry, sport.

Know just how you feel.

Mostyn. Mostyn!
He's done this
deliberately.

You know, I think he fancies
the little darling himself.

See you both at the airport.

You know,
you're a naughty pair.

What happened?

Oh, Mostyn's done this
on purpose.

He-- He wants us
to go back to--

Tonight.

[DOOR OPENS]

You've just got time
to pack.

[DOOR CLOSES]

I bet
he and Mostyn make
a wonderful pair.

Oh, well.

[CHUCKLING]

[DOOR LOCKS]

[BOYSIE SOBBING]

Baudelaire?

Oh, Chekov, good evening.
Come in, please.

Come in, please,
gentlemen, come in.

First, we must cut down
the cherry orchard.

See, I remember.

Ha ha ha ha!

It has all been done, sir.

The girl?
Gone.

Yes, poor girl.
Your men?

One is dead,
the other...
I've sent away.

But, um, Chekov, uh...

Wouldn't you
introduce me?

The coordinator,
perhaps?

I represent the coordinator.

Ah. Ha ha ha!

I am so happy to
meet you, sir.

Good. Then perhaps
you'd like to meet
your successor.

Oh, ha ha ha ha!

The--

What's that?

Oh, it's all a mistake,
sir, it--

It's not me, see?
It is that word for--

Oh, no, sir,
no, no, no.

Please, my dear sir.

Please tell him
it's a mistake!

Baudelaire, I leave you with
this one thought in mind:

you predecease
a very important person.

[GROANING]

[SIGH]

Are you all right,
darling?

Yeah.

Just something I ate.

Sharpen up, old sport,
sharpen up.

Mostyn wants us
through the customs
like a dose of senna.

Must keep the airport laddies
on their toes.

Mostyn is a berk.

Ah, but he's the chief,

and he holds us in
his hot little hands.

So be nice and play
Cowboys and Indians
like he wants us to.

Mean, sadistic,
miserable berk.

Well, what's happened
to the moron?

Well,
I-I-I'm terribly
sorry, sir,

but L and
your Miss Macintosh

are on the way home
tonight, sir.

Already?

The weekend must have been
an absolute disaster.

Yes, well, they're on
the 105 from Nice,

so they're due
in about--

Oh, about 40 minutes,
I suppose. Yes.

Well, what are you
standing here for,
old Fly?

Get cracking!
Come on, start pedaling.

Oh, yes, sir.

And have them tailed
wherever they go.

Put the fear
of God into them!

MAN: Sir?

Message, sir,
from Blue Boy.

Who? Oh, that
bloody code book.

Who's Blue Boy?

Our man on
the Cote d'Azur, sir.

Oh, the vicar.
What's he want?

It's Sheriek, sir,
them and Baudelaire.

That idiot?

I thought they got
rid of him years ago.

Well, they've got rid
of him now, sir.

Blue Boy reports
his body's been found.

MAN: I think you ought to
have a look at this, sir.

Reds under Air Force
order prohibiting

their military flights
along this corridor,

the coast to archangel
from 0900 hours.

That's...odd.

Keep me informed.

Message from Fly,
sir.

Who? Oh, Fly.

The 105 from Nice
has landed.

Ah.

Mostyn.

Yes, Fly?

A man with big ears.
I see.

Well, get over here
at a rate of knots.

Get plenty
of sleep, sport.

We want you fresh
for the job.

Hey, wait a minute,
what about my car?

Pick it up
in the morning.

Iris, old thing,
we'll drop you
at Oxford.

You can
train it back.

No, sir.

Miss Macintosh
has to come along
for the ride.

Mostyn wants
to see her.

I say, we are
in demand,

aren't we,
old darling?

Yes, well,
don't you worry.

We're gonna ask
for another weekend.

I think
he owes us that.

They're on the A-4,
sir, moving west.

The pursuit car
reports three men
and a girl.

MOSTYN: Don't intercept.

Use a 4-car
interchangeable tail.

Right, sir.

Who do we know
with big ears?

The jag's pulled off.

Might be an
interchangeable
tail.

Plenty of time
to lose 'em.

FLY: Yes, that's him.

MOSTYN:
You're absolutely
certain of it?

Oh, that's the one.
There's no doubt at all.

Let's have it,
Mac.

Uh, nasty, very nasty.
We're in trouble.

His real name is
Constantine Alexei Scabatin.

His parents were
supposed to be

white Russian
immigrants.

Educated at Eton
and Wadham,

went to Moscow
in '56,

and this is
the first time

we've known
that he was back.

Skip the character stuff.
What's his speciality?

He's a right
all-rounder.

Ruthless,
a fixer.

Must be something
pretty big.

MOSTYN:
You'd better get me
all the security alerts

for tonight
and tomorrow.

Sir.

He's been trained
to do one thing.

He has one talent.

What do you mean?

They sort of conned him
or hypnotized him?

It's the only
logical answer.

But who is
the target?

Well, there's
not much on, sir.

Russian ambassador's
gone to the Albert
Hall tonight.

And tomorrow
at 0900 hours,

the duke's visiting
Gayborough.

Gayborough?

Yes, sir.
The R.A.F. section.

How's the knee?

Pinging away
like mad, sir.

Priority order:
bring them in at once!

Damn!

The bloody fools
have lost them.

Did you call?

No, I did not call!

But now that
you're here,
get onto records.

I want everything
we've got on
R.A.F. Gayborough.

I don't understand it.
It seems incredible.

But somehow
they've persuaded him

to shoot the Duke
of Edinburgh.

Darling!

You look gorgeous.

How would you like
a quick stroll

through the haystacks?

Yes, well,
there's no time
for that.

Magazine's
loaded.

Uh, blanks,
of course.

I should bloody well
hope so.

One up the spout,
safety catch on.

Iris, jump aboard.
Time we were mobile.

BOYSIE: Pow!

Stop messing
about, L.

Listen, one of
these days, pal--

Yes, you do that.

But meanwhile,
let's not keep
the duke waiting.

But, Chief--

Shut up
and get in the car.

[MARCHING BAND PLAYING]

Now, have you got it
all firmly fixed
in your mind?

Yes.

Right. Remember,
don't fiddle
with the bolt.

It's all set up,
and noise carries.

You put two bullets
into him--

Metaphorically speaking,
of course--

As he inspects
the guard.

[SIGHS]

You just don't
trust my memory,
do you?

Well, we want it to be
a great success,

don't we, sport?

QUADRANT:
Into the back, L.

Iris, old thing,
go to the officer's mess.

If anybody asks, say you're
waiting for colonel Mostyn.

Good luck, darling.

Aim it for real,
sport.

Well, I could hardly
miss from here, could I?

That's the spirit,
old dear.

You settle yourself down,

and you'll be as snug
as a corpse in a coffin.

[HELICOPTER APPROACHING]

Guard of honor,
attention!

Shoulder arms!

Guard of honor,
present...arms!

[BAND PLAYING]

Ooh, brother.

If only this
were for real.

Don't move!
Have you gone nuts?

You've ruined
the whole thing.

Come on,
this way.

They've got him,
sir.

Oh, that's
all right then.

Show's over.

MOSTYN: Oakes!

Didn't we pay you
well enough?

You know what we do
with traitors
in this country?

What the hell are
you talking about?
It was your idea.

What about the code words
"ermine," "coronet"?

You know this gun's
loaded with blanks.

[GUNSHOT]

Oh, my God.

Tell me all about
coronet and ermine.

Tell me all,
and tell me quick.

I-I thought you planned it.
You sent Quadrant to Nice.

I have never heard
of Quadrant.

Who is he?

Shut up
that bloody band!

Who is he?

[AIRPLANE APPROACHING]

What is that?

MAN: It's the vulture.

Who gave the order
to take off?

The vulture?

The M-31 equipment?

Aye.

What the hell
is it doing here?

That's what
the duke wanted
to see, man.

That's it.

Come with me, Boysie.

Bring your gun!

Warn security!

What's this
all about?

The M-31.

Top security.

Hottest thing
since the H-bomb.

This is what
they were really after

with your help.

Get him!

[GUNSHOTS]

Jump!

Control calling vulture.

1-4-5 echo.

1-4-5 echo,
do you read me?

We're being jammed.

There's nothing
on the radar.

It would be you.

Feeling sick, Boysie?

You bitch!

All the time,
everything was a fake.

Not everything,
you dumb ox.

Get back there
and fly this thing.

Don't panic, lover.

It's on George.

Turn the plane
back, Iris.

What would you do,
darling?

Shoot me?

I'm the coordinator
of Operation Coronet.

I've been trained
half my life for
this moment.

I can't raise
them, sir.

Alert your fighter groups
in East Anglia.

Find that damn vulture
and...shoot it down.

Aye.

Give me the gun,
Boysie.

You haven't got
a chance.

Every fighter plane and
every tracking station--

Nuts to the
tracking stations.

This little baby
is a radar scrambler.

Perhaps they'll let us
finish our weekend

on the Black Sea,
darling.

I'll give you
one more chance.

Turn the plane back.

There's an oxygen mask
over here.

Give me the gun,
and you can have it.

RADIO: This is control
calling 1-4-5 echo.

1-4-5 echo,
do you read me?

This is control
calling 1-4-5 echo.

Help!

This is control
calling 1-4-5 echo.

1-4-5 echo,
do you read me?

This is control
calling 1-4-5 echo.

They're on
the screen now,
sir.

We've got you,
1-4-5 echo.

Help!

Now, there is a switch
in front of you marked R/T.

Press that and inform
who is in command.

R/T.

It's on the bloody
steering wheel.

RADIO: I repeat,
inform who is in command.

Oakes,
special security.

Now, listen,
I'm alone up here.

The pilot's
unconscious.

Get me down,
for crying out loud!

Here. Oakes? Listen, man.

We're handing you
over to a pilot

experienced
in your aircraft.

Stand by.

Just-- Just get me
out of here.

Oakes, we're bringing
you back to the field

and going to
assist you to land.

What do you know
about flying?

Are you kidding?
I don't know
a damn thing.

Just get me out of here.
I'm scared sick.

We're all scared
from time to time.

Are you flying level?

More or less.

We're on George,
whoever he is.

Automatic pilot.

Now listen
very carefully.

On your right,

you'll find
the control panel
marked autopilot.

Do you see it?

Yes.

On the panel is
a clocklike instrument.

That's your auto compass.

No need to be alarmed.

Adjust the needle
to west,

and this will turn you
back towards the airfield.

You're now on course
for Gayborough.

Easier than driving
a car, isn't it?

Oh, it's bloody
marvelous.

Shouldn't I be holding
the steering wheel?

No, don't touch that.

On the control panel,
you'll see a red knob.

Move it to the position
marked "descend."

What the hell
are you doing?

What are you doing?
What do you--

What do you press
to make it stop
descending?

You're in the clouds.
Don't let the bumps worry you.

Can you see
your altimeter?

Oh, do you mean
the damn thing

whizzing around like
a clock gone mad?

That's it.

You should be losing
about 4,000 feet a minute.

Be losing more than that
any minute now.

Oh, no!

I can see the ground.

Take absolutely
no notice of it.

All very well
for you.

We're doing very nicely.

Now we're going to lower
the undercarriage.

Who is?
You are.

The control button
is marked.

You just press it.

Do you see the runway
dead ahead?

I'll never land on--

I'll never land
on that.

It's the easiest part,
old boy.

You gotta be joking.

Whatever you do
from now on,

don't touch the controls.

Just sit with
your arms folded.

You think I'm crazy?
Who's flying this plane?

We are, actually.

Here he comes.

He'll never do it.

He doesn't have to.

Listen,
what do I do?

Absolutely nothing.

Oakes, pull the throttles
right back.

What?

The throttles.
Pull them right back.

Alert!

[SIRENS]

MAN: Shut down
the engines.

What's the wait?!

Still alive, sir.

So much for
Madame Oakes.

Hello.

Oh, hello.
Are you all right?

Yes, I'm fine, I think.
It's nice of someone to ask.

I thought you
handled that plane
marvelously.

Yes, well, it's
automatic, really.
What's your name?

Judith.

I'm Boysie.

I know.

Boysie!

Listen, before all hell
breaks loose again,

do you think
we could get together
one evening for dinner?

Oh, I'd love to.

But aren't you
forgetting

section "B,"
paragraph 2

of the Official
Secrets Act?

What?

"Civilian staff
are forbidden to consort

with active serving members
of the department."

Punishable by up to
10 years imprisonment.

Oh, no,
she's not--

She's my secretary. Judith.

Come on, Boysie.

Now, now,
just wait a minute.

I'm no more use to
the department.

This is where
we part company.

Rubbish.

The department
can't afford to lose
men like you, Boysie,

not after
what you did today.

Take the wheel.