Original subtitles

Your bag, se�or?

Your bag, se�or? Carry your bag, se�or?

- Candy? Candy? - Oh, go away.

- Candy? Candy? Candy? - Go away. Don't be such a pest.

Candy?

Would you, uh, close the door, please?

Would you be kind enough to give me the police department, please? Mm-hm.

Hello? Police department?

My name is Gregori Valetti.

Well, what do you mean, so what?

I have just executed Colonel Oscar Mannheim. Mm-hm.

He was working as a bellhop in one of your lesser hotels.

No, no, ha, ha, no. I won't tell you which one.

Yes, yes. Gregori Valetti.

I work for an organization called the Re-Collectors.

Perhaps you've heard of them, huh?

Oh. Oh, you have. Good. Ha.

Well, justice has been done once more. Mm.

Remember, the Re-Collectors.

We hunt, we find, we kill.

- You too? - Me too.

- And from the urgency of the summons... - I thought I detected a towering rage.

And it started out to be such a beautiful day.

Evangeline has some papers for you, Mr. Nassau.

Every time I change my name, it means, uh, trouble.

Mark Nassau, Mr. Solo. From the Bahamas, of course.

A legitimate art collector who has agreed to go into temporary retirement...

while we use his name and reputation.

Passport, identity card...

plane tickets, bills. - Mm-hm.

Is it, uh, too much to ask what for?

We've placed an ad in the paper, Mr. Solo, in your new name.

Yesterday's Rome Corriere.

"Your looted masterpieces reclaimed swiftly and efficiently.

Contact Mark Nassau, fermo in posta, Rome.

Signed, the Re-Collectors."

For 20 years, Mr. Solo, we've been hunting a party of four Nazi war criminals...

who disappeared in 1945 with $17 million worth of looted paintings.

Hunting, hunting, getting nowhere.

Now...

Well, you tell him, Evangeline.

Now, Mr. Solo, the Rome police have given us a lead.

They tell us that a young woman named Lisa Donato...

was recently approached by a man named Gregori Valetti...

who seems to have some sort of tenuous connection with these four Nazis.

Tenuous connection, indeed. He's hunting them down.

Valetti is working for a secret organization called the Re-Collectors.

They claim they are re-collecting those paintings.

And some of the have in fact been returned to their original owners...

in exchange for large payments of money.

Have you ever heard of a man named Oscar Mannheim?

Or Rudolf Schultz?

Schultz. Mannheim.

Stirs a memory somewhere.

Well, they're two of the four Nazis we've been looking for.

They were both murdered by Gregori Valetti.

And in each instance, he called the police and boasted of having executed them.

You said there were four. Uh, the others?

Well, one of them...

leader of the party, Karl Wenrepp...

He is the man we want most.

The other man, we don't know his name.

Anyway, with Schultz and Mannheim dead, they're the only two left.

Surprising that the Re-Collectors can find

these people and those paintings so easily...

when we have tried for 20 years, very hard but without success.

Yes, annoying, isn't it?

Of course, we don't know now where Valetti is...

but we do know that he contacted Lisa Donato quite recently in Rome.

So Rome seems to be a pretty good place to start.

It's my belief this ad of ours will smoke out the Re-Collectors.

They'll want to know who's using their name so blatantly.

And if they know where those Nazis are...

Well, you follow my reasoning, Mr. Solo?

Yes, yes. I'm certain that Valetti's gun will be pointing in the right direction.

I just must remember not to be standing in front of it. Hm?

Mark Nassau.

Okay, Nassau. Into the car.

- Hey, what is this? - Go on, get in.

You know, I can't help wondering...

just who you expected to answer this ad of yours.

And whether your apparent naivet� is natural or assumed. Ha, ha.

But we'll find out, won't we?

Uh, check those for me, will you?

You might just find a customer or two among them.

Now, Mr. Nassau, would you be good enough to tell me...

the meaning of this enigmatic advertisement?

During the war, I lost a priceless Correggio.

Looted by the Nazis. I want it back.

I believe the Re-Collectors can get it for me.

And how did you come to hear of us?

I learned that certain other looted

paintings had been returned to their owners.

I figured the best way to find the Re-Collectors...

was to tempt them to come to me.

And it worked, didn't it?

Yes, it did.

How keen is your palate, Mr. Nassau?

One of these wines is worthless.

The other is virtually priceless.

See if you can tell which is which.

I, uh, won't, if you don't mind.

I promised my dear old mother that I wouldn't drink until I was 20.

You hurt my feelings.

That was not only discourteous, it was extremely dangerous.

I'm sure it's no more dangerous than your wine.

Oh, there are subtler ways of making a man talk.

Suppose you tell me who you really are.

- Oh... - Ha.

That was the cheap one.

This is...

ah, Ch�teau Margaux, 1913.

Not more than 10 bottles left in the entire world.

Huh.

A shame we have to deny ourselves such luxuries.

Ah, all I really want, you see, is my Correggio. I'm willing to pay for it.

Actually, I'd be a rather good customer.

And you're concealing nothing from us?

- No, I'm as innocent as an unborn child. - And just as vulnerable.

You know, there was a time once...

when one had to beat a man to find out what he was hiding.

But these times are more civilized, don't you think?

I'd prefer not to have that done, if you don't mind.

You see, I'm quite allergic to needles, Mister, uh...?

Ah. Demos. Claude Alphonso Demos.

And when you know me better...

you'll also know that I like to have my own way.

It's part of the philosophy I live by.

Back, Mr. Nassau. Back.

You see, Mr. Nassau, there's something about your story that I don't like.

I must find out what it is.

- I told you I was a collector. - And I'm a re-collector.

What wine would you think suitable to drink during an inquisition?

- What is your favorite wine, Mr. Nassau? - Someone else's.

You're just in time, sergeant.

- Who sent you? - I followed this man, Valetti, eh?

So you see, nobody sent me. I came.

And saw and conquered.

- My thanks. I'll see you. - Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah.

Ah, I was afraid of that.

If you would be so kind...

I believe my chief would like to speak to you.

Uh, Inspector Fiamma.

May I visit you in jail, Mr. Demos?

I'll, uh, bring you a bottle of California wine.

You were lucky my husband's men arrived when they did.

If they had found out who you really are...

I am a better hostess than mortician.

Ha. Well, you're very kind, Signora Fiamma.

I am disturbed, Mr. Solo, that you did not find it necessary...

to warn us of your interest in these Re-Collectors.

My orders were to cooperate with the local police whenever necessary.

It Didn't seem that it was quite time...

to bother the police with my worries.

- Was I wrong? - Uh, perhaps. Perhaps not.

But I must ask you now to lay your cards on the table.

Department F of the Questura, which I have the honor to command...

is devoting its entire time now to this search for the Re-Collectors.

We are prepared to cooperate with you fully...

provided, of course, you return the compliment.

Mm-hm. But of course, inspector.

Have you had time to search that wine cellar yet?

Ah, they are searching it now. But I have very little hope.

- Mr. Solo. - Oh, thank you, signora.

My husband's favorite vintage.

Mm.

A lot of people know about vintages, signora.

Your health.

Inspector, uh, I was wondering why you didn't, uh pick me up at the post office.

When I collected those letters.

We intended to. But we saw you were being watched.

It was a good lead, and as you saw, it brought results.

We've been looking for that cellar for a long time.

Well, you will apprise me...

if you come across anything, won't you?

Of course, with pleasure.

Open Channel D, please. Urgent.

Yes?

Uh, Mr. Kuryakin asking for D, urgent.

Channel D open, Section One here.

Who's in command of the Italian Questura, Department F?

Department F? Department F was disbanded six months ago.

Don't you fellows ever read the bulletins?

We're just making sure, sir.

Hold on, Mr. Kuryakin. Where are you?

We've taken a villa in Rome.

Mr. Solo is being interrogated by the nonexistent Department F.

How very unenterprising of him.

He used the code phrase "a lot of people."

Ah. Then he's worried. Good. What else?

I've located Lisa Donato. She's coming to see us.

WAVERLY Good.

I'd better get Mr. Solo out of there before something unpleasant happens to him.

No, no, no.

When Solo gets into trouble, that's when he starts getting results.

He might get a very sick headache.

Relax, Mr. Kuryakin.

Mr. Solo is a very highly-trained man.

Anything more?

Nothing more. Signing off.

Well, I really must, uh, be going, inspector.

Could I have my letters back, please?

Um. Well, in a day or two.

When we have finished processing them.

That, uh, cooperation, remember?

A matter of protocol.

My superiors are sometimes quite fussy about that sort of thing.

Ah, bravo, Solo.

Yes, I guess he's told us all he's ever likely to.

Valetti, the basement.

I'll have Fiamma bring him down there.

Get rid of the body in the furnace.

It's strange that the Re-Collectors are so much better at tracking down the Nazis...

than we are. FIAMMA: Ha.

Well...

Oh, you will excuse me, Mr. Solo?

Mr. Solo, would you care to have a glass of cognac?

You're very kind, thank you.

I think I can let you see the secret files on the Re-Collectors.

- Would you like that? - Yes, I'd like that.

I keep them in the strongroom in the basement.

Uh, shall we?

I mustn't, uh, be too long. I have a possible trump card to play.

- A trump card? - Yes, someone I have to meet.

He claims he knows where those paintings are.

An informer, eh.

- But, uh... - In here?

- Let's make it short and sweet, shall we? - Uh, no, wait.

Suppose...

Suppose you bring this man to me.

If we interrogate him together...

Just as soon as we're through here. - No, that can wait.

Let's see that man first.

I'll send someone with you.

Sergeant?

Escort Mr. Solo where he wants to go.

And show him the way back.

With an informer.

So?

Ciao.

So soon?

No. We have a problem.

- Where is he? - Don't worry.

It's all under control.

There is an informer running around who knows where the paintings are hidden.

But Solo is going to bring him right back.

You fool. You let him go.

What? But, an informer.

We've got to find out who he is and what he knows.

You fool! You absolute fool.

There was no informant. That was just a trick to get out of the house.

You must have given the game away.

Demos.

Demos, please. Time.

There was no time to check with you.

Fiamma, you chose to disobey my orders.

But... But that...

I... I didn't want to arouse his suspicions.

I think your time has come too.

Demos.

Even when you're playing a part, it pains me to see you with another man.

And all for nothing.

Get him for me, darling.

Bring Mr. Solo to the cellar.

I will.

Sergeant.

This is where the informer is waiting.

Of course, if it turned out that you really are a policeman...

I'd be in trouble, wouldn't I?

Signore?

They say that every Italian woman loves a man in uniform, signorina.

A present for you.

Just obeying orders.

Mr. Waverly told me to relax. Ah.

Oh, have, uh, you two met?

- Napoleon Solo. This is... - Lisa Donato, I know.

Our tenuous connection to Valetti.

Mm-hm. Well, suppose you tell me just how tenuous.

Okay, I will.

Well, some time ago, this man, Gregori Valetti...

told me that he knew I was the legal owner of a famous painting.

Vel�zquez's Castilian Woman.

It's very valuable.

But the Nazis looted it...

from my grandfather's place in Rome during the war...

and it just disappeared.

Valetti told me he could find it for me if I gave him $100,000.

Did I have that kind of money? I don't even have 50,000 lire.

That painting was the last of what was once a very valuable estate.

You know, taxes, death duties.

Yes, I, uh, know.

So?

So I followed him to Madrid...

hoping to persuade him to find my painting at a price I could afford.

I thought a gun might be a sort of subtle argument.

But he got away. End of story.

Not quite.

We'll, uh, catch him again, I'm sure.

That might not be so easy.

When we placed the ad...

we assumed that whoever came looking for the replies...

would be picked up for interrogation.

And so you were able to plant some phony replies on them.

Well, aren't you clever?

We like to think so.

One of those phony replies was this address.

Really quite simple.

Casting bread on the waters to bring home the bacon.

An old, old house. Ghosts?

What the...?

Where the devil did you come from?

Mr. Kuryakin. Forgive the unorthodox entry.

But in my business, one needs a certain aptitude for caution.

You mind telling me what you want before I throw you out?

You wrote me a letter asking me to see you.

- I did? - Mm-hm.

Ah, the advertisement in the Corriere. That was yours?

- Yes, that was mine. - Ah, then that's different, isn't it? Uh.

Won't you sit down, Mr...?

- Valetti. Gregori Valetti. - Excellent.

You're just the man I want to see. Sherry?

But you couldn't have heard my name anywhere.

Oh, but I have.

You approached my fianc�e some while back. You remember?

About a missing Vel�zquez, the Castilian Woman.

Your fianc�e? Lisa Donato?

Exactly.

You wanted $100,000 for the recovery of the painting.

She doesn't have that kind of money, but I do.

Now we're going to be married.

So when we saw the advertisement in the paper...

I wrote to you giving you the address of this place.

- You see? - How very fortuitous.

A moment.

Honey, are you decent?

Of course, for $100,000, I'd expect some sort of guarantee.

I need only remind you of our reputation.

Well, I suppose that will be good enough. Ah.

Oh, Mr. Valetti. How nice to see you again.

Miss Donato.

I'm glad that you finally decided to make use of our services.

- You still think you can find my painting? - Oh, I know I can.

- One hundred thousand dollars? - In advance.

Excuse me.

You know, it's a great deal of money.

But what's money for if you can't spread it around now and then?

- Ha, darling, you're so good to me. - No, that's all right, darling.

As long as it makes you happy.

After all, it's only money.

Uh, thank you, Mr. Kuryakin. Ha.

Shall we say a month, uh, five or six weeks?

We shall be here.

I must admit it takes a special kind of

talent to spend $100,000 in 30 seconds flat.

Thank you for establishing our bona fide for us.

Oh, don't try and fire me, Mr. Solo.

They all wanna hang on, don't they?

Well, in this case, it may be an advantage.

Lisa, believe it or not, is an art student.

And what would you tell Valetti if he came back?

That I went on vacation?

Well, I must admit...

Uh-huh. Then, that's settled.

Illya, I think you're going to have to stay

with her. She's going to need a bodyguard.

But of course he'll stay with me. He's my fianc�.

And you?

Work to be done.

Are we going to scream?

Just one thing.

Tell me where I can find that charming rogue of a husband of yours.

Dead, Mr. Solo.

The price exacted by Demos for letting you escape.

I'm sorry.

Demos, you, your late husband.

The Re-Collectors?

Does that change your allegiance?

I want the man who killed my husband.

There is, uh, nothing more sterile than vengeance, Signora Fiamma.

Sterility is all that is left for me now.

One question has always bothered me.

Why is it that the Re-Collectors announce their murders to the police?

Why do they wanna draw attention to themselves?

We re-collect paintings, Mr. Solo.

In that process, sometimes people are killed.

But our victims are war criminals...

to whose deaths is attached very little public resentment.

By drawing attention to the fact that the victims are criminals themselves...

Demos has always hoped to attract less attention to his re-collecting.

That make sense. Where, uh, do I find Demos?

In his wine cellar, always.

But you won't get it easily. It's well defended.

If you have help, I suggest you use it now.

No, no help. I'm essentially a one-man operation.

Tell me about Karl Wenrepp.

He's the head of the Nazi group that originally stole those paintings.

We have been looking for him for a long time.

- And Gregori Valetti? - A trained hunter.

The man we employ to do our killings.

Hm.

So we have two groups.

The Nazi deserters, headed by Karl Wenrepp...

and the Re-Collectors hunting them down, headed by...?

Demos, who else?

You're very frank with me, signora.

I told you.

I want the man who is responsible for the death of my husband.

Get Demos for me, Mr. Solo.

Kill him.

You suggested I might have trouble getting into the wine cellar. I might need help.

Whenever you do need help...

I will be waiting.

That's good.

Arrivederci.

- You all right? - You're a lousy shot.

Yeah, I'm all right. I'll live.

- No, wait. - I can get him.

Follow him, carefully. Tell Valetti where he goes.

Well, the widow Fiamma was certainly telling the truth...

about the fact that the cellar is well guarded.

Did you say the widow Fiamma?

Yes, for letting me escape...

her husband was executed by our wine-imbibing friend Demos.

I feel that she doesn't hold him responsible for the murder.

Since I was indirectly the cause of it, I think maybe she's gunning for me.

Something to think about.

Your friends are always such complicated people.

She's a very attractive girl and, I feel, extremely competent.

- Mr. Solo? - No, thank you.

I'm always depressed when I see competence reflected in a woman's face.

I feel a woman should be...

Well, an attractive woman should be much more than just competent.

Well, she is, believe me. A great deal more.

Illya, you like puzzles.

Work on this for a little while:

Why is it that half of the police forces of Europe, and our own organization...

have been searching unsuccessfully for the Nazis for 20 years?

And why have the Re-Collectors been successful?

They found the paintings, they found Rudolf Schultz, found Oscar Mannheim...

two of the men who stole them.

- How come? - The answer is quite obvious, isn't it?

They know where to look.

Yes, it's obvious, but how do they know where to look?

That's what we have to find out, isn't it?

I...

What's that?

Get to the floor.

Outside, quickly.

Herak.

Where are the others?

Get her out of here.

What's the best bet, the wine cellar?

Well, let's hope that's where they've taken her.

- Let's hope we can get in there. - Yeah.

Genevieve says she can take me there.

We can't be sure that she's ready to help.

Well, that's the chance we'll have to take.

She said Valetti is their executioner, and he's got Lisa.

There they are now.

A pretty girl in danger, it's all it needs to lure a man to his death.

If the world were not full of fools, how would honest criminals make a living?

- Are you sure nobody's here? - Nobody's here, Mr. Solo.

I should have known, shouldn't I?

Well done, my dear.

- Is he alone? - He's alone.

I find your trust in women, Mr. Solo, quite touching.

But for you, it's disastrous.

Where is your partner?

He's out there with your bullet in him. He's hurt.

I wonder, should we believe that?

With this man, believe nothing.

Where's Lisa Donato?

That is none of your business now.

- Kill him. - Wait.

Uh, aren't you afraid that I might pass on my deductions to someone else...

uh, who might in turn put the nonexistent Re-Collectors out of business?

Nonexistent?

Yes, it occurred to me how easy it would be to locate those paintings...

if you already knew where they were.

It also occurred to me...

that you were the only one who knew where Rudolf Schultz was...

when everyone else was looking for him.

And then Mannheim too.

Seemed to me to pose a puzzle.

And, uh, you have come up with an answer?

No, but I've come up with another question. Uh.

There were four Nazis involved in the looting of the paintings.

Schultz, Mannheim...

Was Fiamma the third?

- And if so... - If so, Mr. Solo?

If so, then the fourth man, Karl Wenrepp...

probably was knocking off his partners to get their share of the loot.

And then selling the pictures, or at least the lesser ones...

back to the only people who could legally buy them.

The original owners.

All in the name of the discreetly-built-up Re-Collectors.

Who never really existed, except in Karl Wenrepp's carefully-promoted publicity.

An idea I find more intriguing than plausible.

Oh, red herrings always are.

By attracting attention to the Re-Collectors...

you distracted attention from the Nazis everyone was looking for.

Mr. Solo, if there was ever hope for you...

you've just condemned yourself to die.

Yes, I was afraid of that.

At least I know I was right, though.

A little late, isn't it, for much satisfaction?

Tell me where Lisa Donato is.

At least I'd die comfortably if I knew she was in good hands.

And have you passed on this information?

Well, that's an answer that you'll have to find out.

And you'd better hurry.

Yes, I think I'd better had.

Your time has run out, Mr. Solo.

Thanks for hurrying.

The sleep will do these two good.

What happened?

What happened to Demos and the girl?

The door.

The last time this weapon was used, it killed the great chevalier Bayard.

You see, my dear, history lives on.

Only people die.

But how wonderful to be killed with so historical a weapon.

- They are not worthy of it. - You're wrong, my dear.

To protect all this, no weapon could be more appropriate.

An arquebus. Hm.

Just one shot, Herr Wenrepp?

- Before you get that reloaded... - I need only one shot, Mr. Solo.

How do you get this thing to go back up again?

Don't wanna keep my friend wait... Oh, yes.

Hi. How are you?

Oh, so this is the little lot that you smuggled out of Germany. Hm?

What an imaginative way to describe the world's finest art collection.

But you're an imaginative man, aren't you, Mr. Solo?

Mm. Not really, just stubborn.

You got Mannheim's share of the loot, next you got Schultz's...

finally, Fiamma.

Now you have all of it, haven't you?

You never did really intend to give back the Castilian Woman, did you?

Is this it?

Mm-hm.

It is beautiful.

Yes.

Too beautiful for the vulgar.

Look around you.

Perugino's Damnation.

Rembrandt's Dutch Cottage.

Correggio's Madonna.

And the Castilian Woman.

Some of the finest masterpieces ever painted.

You think I'd let every uneducated lout drool over them?

A great painting dies a little, step by step...

with every uninformed glance that falls upon it.

Did you know that?

If it is great, it has life.

And if it has life, it can die.

Did it ever occur to you, Wenrepp...

that a lot of normal people like great paintings too?

And now they're mine.

- Stand away from that painting. - No, I think I'm much safer here.

I don't think you'll fire that "blunderbus" in this direction.

It's pointed at Miss Donato.

My life for hers, is that a fair trade?

No, it is not. The stakes are too high.

Karl! Karl!

Karl, Karl.

Oh, Karl.

Oh, my darling.

Karl, I've loved you so much.

You have no memory for your late husband, signora?

Fiamma? He was never my husband.

A part to play, no more.

All my life, one man. Only one.

And now he's gone.

No, he's not gone. It's just a sleep dart.

He'll be well enough soon to stand trial.

Well, it's all yours.

A million-dollar Castilian Woman.

Will she die a little if we watch awhile?

I think not.