Original subtitles

The Standard's already carrying it.

Christ!

"To ask an American if a nuclear accord between the United States

"and Great Britain is a union of equals

"is to presume that we are looking for an equal.

"Britain is the car park

"and we are asking them to act as valets for our missiles.

"But make this clear, they neither own nor get to drive the car."

- What was Colonel Finch thinking? - He clearly wasn't.

He's made a fool of us and an ass of himself.

Happy New Year, one and all.

Let's hope not. We can't make good news without bad.

These were taken in Paris, mid-December.

A lunchtime gathering alongside the NATO conference,

whilst the real work was being done by the heads of state in the other room.

These are the little men, in attendance to grease the wheels.

- So, Finch and NATO lead? - We'll see.

Isaac, see if we can get Priestley on the show.

It's important we have the anti-nuclear view.

Oh, do we have to have Priestley on?

I mean, what's Macmillan supposed to do?

Better to have American-controlled missiles

than no missiles at all, surely.

Bet that's the way the country thinks.

Balance, Mr Madden, the age-old concept of.

Something to counteract the fact that Colonel Finch and these men

taking us to the brink of a nuclear war

are all grinning like schoolboys.

So, the Pentagon wants to build these bases and have us pay for them?

At the cost of twenty million.

And I presume these are the men who will benefit from it?

Put enough men of influence around a conference table

and there'll always be those looking for the crumbs.

- Vultures. - Well put, sweetheart.

I presume Uncovered are also running with Finch.

It'll take a typhoon in Tipperary to topple this.

You'll find me with our friends in Personnel this afternoon.

Those whose contract is up

and may be thinking of asking for an increase in salary

should tread carefully.

This is the BBC, not the MOD.

Contracts cannot be ignored.

- Did you read it? - I did.

And?

Interesting. Very interesting.

But if you plan to break a story of police corruption on The Hour...

Hector's interview with Stern prepared the ground.

Lead with Finch this week, by all means...

Thank you, I will, because this isn't ready. This can't lead.

But you think it's a good story?

Without analysis, without evidence.

We are journalists, Mr Lyon, not detectives.

An influx of foreign girls who've found employment at El Paradis,

Norman Pike forcing statutory tenants from their flats

and replacing them with Cilenti's girls.

A police officer who, when he's not assaulting prostitutes,

is covering for those who've employed them.

I think we're not doing badly.

It's clearly more than just a couple of corrupt plods.

It's organised crime, systematic organised crime,

greased by a deep level of police collusion.

If you plan to expose ingrained police corruption

ignored by a complicit commander,

then you may have the best story of the year and it's only January.

But dig deeper, go further. Find new sources.

If you can't find new sources, find new ways of talking to old ones.

But that will take time.

So, take time.

Until then, NATO still leads the show.

Didn't I do enough last week?

The bloody Sunday Telegraph thought so.

"A bare-knuckled brawl" was their assessment.

It was brilliant, Hector, brilliant.

- I couldn't have done better myself. - Thank you.

But you know there's more.

You had him up against the ropes, Hector,

but you didn't throw the final punch.

You can't ask us not to expose him. It's going to happen.

I can't betray him.

He's a corrupt officer whose handiwork almost cost you your career.

- Give him the chance to whistleblow. - And then what?

- We can't protect him. - His career is already blown.

Just call him.

I used to think that getting under your skin was a form of sport,

now I look on it as a moral duty.

Let me think, man.

- What next? - Randall was right.

Old sources, new methods.

My turn.

The only people who know more about these men

are the women they're involved with.

- Moneypenny... - She's our only source.

I have that translation for Ms Storm.

Oh, well, you might find her in her office.

- We need the money. - Of course. It's fine.

I'll go and check on Mr Wengrow's homework.

Oh, thank you, darling. You are a marvel.

- A bientôt - Goodbye.

I'm going, I'm going. Freddie doesn't like me in the office.

- I never said that. - You didn't have to.

- Mr Wengrow? - The paperwork for El Paradis.

Every six months, Mr Cilenti has to apply for a fresh license.

He's blatantly contravening the licensing hours

and yet the police never make any objections.

Inspections are always carried out by an S Attwood.

- I assume... - Never assume.

He is the same Detective Attwood

that signed a report that stated there was insufficient evidence

to prosecute Mr Pike for assault a few weeks back.

Or rather co-signed with an L Stern.

Isaac, I presume when you go home tonight

- your mother will be waiting? - Yes.

I'd like you to thank her for me,

for having the foresight to deliver a son.

Hello?

Um, Miss Ramirez? It's Miss Rowley from The Hour.

I was wondering if I might speak with you again?

Don't call me here. How did you get this number?

Through a contact.

She's fine. Miss Delaine, she's fine.

Until the next time.

You didn't just come because you were worried about Miss Delaine.

I suspect you also came because you were worried for yourself.

Please, just... just half an hour, nothing more. Somewhere neutral.

No one need ever know that we spoke.

I don't know what you want from me.

We want to expose Cilenti but we need information.

You have more power than you think.

There's a museum. The Petrie Museum.

Take the 19 to Knightsbridge and it's three stops thereafter.

Shall we say 1:00?

- I'm late. - Well, I'll drive you.

No thanks.

I never know where I am with you, Rosa.

What?

Jeanie's free.

- How did it go? - She hung up on me.

She'll be there.

- How do you know? - I just do.

I'll be off shortly.

Right. Do you really feel the need to inform me of that?

- I almost telephoned you. - Really?

- I saw a musical. - A musical?

Why not? I was in the West End and I do sometimes. I thought...

I hate musicals.

Yes, that's what I thought.

It might have been interesting, though, to...

I wish that you had.

What?

You. This. All this sort of hovering.

They've found her.

What?

My contacts, they think they've found her.

Right.

They'll send me their paperwork, etc.

Right.

- Lix? - I couldn't.

But I... I thought that it was the...

There was this family about an hour outside of Paris.

They were very...

He took her.

It wasn't official but...

they just looked...

They just looked so right with her.

And at that time when war broke out, I was outside Amiens.

I went back and a neighbour told me that they'd taken her somewhere safe.

I... Well...

I told myself that she was safe.

And I haven't heard from them since.

No address, just...

She was just gone.

Mmm...

So, you'll, uh... You'll let me know?

Yes, as soon as the...

- It's important that you and I... - Yes.

Rather than push it to the back of the drawer, as can happen.

- You've smoked that awful short. - Shit.

Shit. Shit.

Can you put me through to Commander Stern, please?

Grosvenor 2352.

Yes.

Hello?

I don't know why I'm calling you,

in fact, I'd rather do anything than have this conversation,

but old habits die hard.

Hector, um...

I wouldn't do to my worst enemy what you did to that girl.

But every vice has its excuse ready, my father always said that.

So I'd like to believe that it was a moment of madness

and I want to believe that you are truly sorry for what happened.

- Hector, I... - But then I remember the past.

And I find these memories, these snatches coming to me

more and more.

- The war was a long time ago. - Some things you just don't forget.

Miss Rowley and Mr Lyon are brilliant journalists

and they smell a good story.

Mr Attwood's name has been mentioned in connection with yours

and in connection with the club.

Lieutenant?

Well, say something, man, for Christ's sake.

- They're still pursuing Mr Cilenti? - Yes.

You're talking about a man who will ruin both of us,

your entire team if he has to.

You'll all be compromised.

- The man is relentless. - Well, then find a way to stop him.

I presume you're joking?

You can't honestly think I haven't thought of that before.

Well, then, talk to us.

It's the only way to keep you clear of the story.

That'd be professional suicide, don't be ridiculous.

You're going to have to throw us something, Lieutenant.

And if I don't?

They'll expose you anyway.

What, further humiliation live on air?

I saved your fucking life, Hector. Now you save mine!

That man. I've seen him at the club with Miss Delaine.

We need a list of everyone who was at this nuclear summit.

Does he work for NATO?

That would certainly raise the calibre of the men on Cilenti's payroll.

Ask Rosa Maria.

Does she know what any of her clients do?

- How they might help Cilenti? - I'll do my best.

Do you recognise him, Lix?

No, he's not a politician or a head of state.

You sure?

Darling, I can recite the name of every minister, prime minister

and president in my sleep.

Going down?

Actually, I was hoping to take you out for lunch.

I can't.

I want to kiss you.

Oh, I wouldn't. Bob in Accounts gets awfully jealous.

- Mr Lyon... - Good Christmas?

Yes, we rang in the New Year.

I'd better get going. I'm meeting my one-time best man,

now working for Auntie on the Sports Desk.

- Dinner? - Bring wine.

- Love to. - You're not invited.

- Very good. - I thought you were going to Sports?

- What? - I thought you were going to Sports?

Yes.

White. She prefers white.

- Oh, Mr Kendall. - Just passing.

I don't believe you. You know my contract's up.

I'm just the carrier pigeon,

but you must know, we will match any raise they offer.

Right.

And we can certainly get you a bigger office than this.

- Where do you have all your meetings? - In Bel's...

Miss Rowley's office.

How does one spread out, work in here?

With difficulty.

- Bear it in mind. - I will.

To be frank, expectations are low, they're notoriously tight.

Probably won't offer me anything better.

We'll keep your seat warm.

Maybe get a meeting with the team in the calendar?

Talk to Miss Cooper. She keeps my diary.

Mr McCain on line one.

He was wondering if you might be free for a drink.

Was he?

I'll be off. Miss Cooper, expect a call from me.

Ah! Divine.

Hector, sweetie, have you had a chance to look over the Priestley...

Uh, no...

- Well, I'd appreciate it if you would. - Look, just leave them on my desk.

They're already on your desk.

Darling, you've got the weight of the world on your shoulders today.

- Whatever is the matter? - I'm just not sleeping very well.

- Are you in trouble? - Yes. A debt, of sorts.

A man in debt is a slave.

Hector, darling, I often think the only thing holding you together

is that bloody coat.

I'm fine.

Good. Then buck up and let's see that fire in your belly.

What fire?

The one I saw in your interview with Commander Stern.

- Tell McCain 8:00. Wherever he wants. - Yes, Mr Madden.

How long have you worked at El Paradis?

Two years.

- And did you know Miss Delaine before? - No.

The men who come in the club,

do you recognise any of them?

They're successful, powerful men, do you ever get their names?

If Cilenti tells us to.

If he wants us to talk to them,

if he wants us to get them to drink more, talk more.

If he wants us to get them in a photo.

And why would he want that?

All men are the same when you unbutton their trousers.

We're just the honey before the sting.

He blackmails them?

You wouldn't have come to see me if you didn't want my help.

For whatever reason, you pushed us in the direction of those photographs. Why?

No successful man wants to be photographed with a whore.

But... But it's a glamorous club. You're a beautiful girl.

Those photographs are in the press every day of the week.

We are whores when Mr Cilenti needs us to be.

So, that's how he blackmails them. What happens next?

Whatever he wants.

Passports for foreign girls.

Needs a license. Needs to cover something up.

Policemen, politicians, stars. All the same.

If they don't pay up, they get a little envelope,

then another one.

He's here.

Get me something.

Get me evidence of blackmail and I will get the story out.

- We can help... - No, you can't.

Anything to prove Cilenti's doing this and I will run it on The Hour.

He won't harm you, he will be gone. I promise you.

Goodbye, Miss Rowley.

Mr Madden, they're ready for you now.

- Mr Madden. - Mr Chapman.

- We could have shared a taxi. - I prefer to walk.

Nothing like an annual review to kick-start the year, Mr Madden.

Indeed.

Get behind the man in front of the camera.

Please.

Can't pretend.

We're really rather pleased with the progress of The Hour, Mr Madden,

after last year's difficulties.

Mr Brown has been telling us

what an exemplary front man you have been for your team,

your interview with the police commander being a high point.

Is that so?

I understand you are being courted by ITV?

I would expect nothing less. But one must protect one's investment.

We wish today to reiterate

what an important asset to the Corporation you are, Mr Madden.

A fact affirmed by Mr Brown but obvious for all to see.

Mr Madden is not simply the front man of The Hour,

he's the essence.

A former serviceman,

his is the reliable voice that in these dark and difficult times

the public can respect.

In you they trust.

While of course we cannot be held to ransom,

we hope to make you an offer

that you consider commensurate with your talents.

And in the spirit of whatever the other side is offering,

- that way your decision can be purely... - Ethical.

Quite.

Further to which, we should at some stage discuss

which other programmes might benefit from having you at the helm, Mr Madden.

I don't know what to say.

"Thank you" would be a start.

Mr Lyon, I've got that list, from the summit lunch?

- Three Brits if we disregard McCain. - Always.

And the rest, a pretty even smattering

of politicians and corporate names from the NATO member states.

But still no name for him.

- Your eye's twitching. - Is it?

- You working late? - Oh, yes.

Difficult last act.

With a play, do they pay you by the word or by the line?

- Um... - They don't pay you at all?

No, they've paid me. They're putting it on the radio.

Isaac, that's brilliant! Bloody well done.

I'd rather no fuss.

I hope you're not leaving.

Check the Palais. Lix says that's where they all stayed.

Cross-reference.

Bel?

- Wait, wait, wait. - Breathe.

Shit. Shit.

What did she say?

They're blackmailing Stern.

Any man of any influence,

barrister, doctor, actor, minister

foolish enough to pass through the doors of El Paradis

is hurriedly introduced to one of Cilenti's sirens.

All Miss Delaine and Miss Ramirez have to do

is to take them home and stand by the front door and kiss them

and there is somebody there to take their photograph from a distance.

A honey trap.

Cilenti, conceivably, could have information of half the men in London.

So what does Cilenti want from the man at the NATO summit?

Miss Delaine was all over him at the club.

Oh, Christ, what have I done? What have I done?

It's brilliant.

It's just paper.

He followed us.

- So we've rattled him. - What is it?

It's a threat from Cilenti.

We have to tell the story this week.

We have to tell it now.

In Borneo, when a man wants to warn his enemy that he's coming for him,

he binds the dried entrails of his dead elders to a clay pot

and leaves it at the door.

Keep going.

Even though he's threatening a member of our team?

To him who is in fear, everything rustles.

- Anything else? - No. Not yet.

I've got that name.

Francis Tufnell. He owns an engineering company.

Made his money in scrap metal, post-war.

We've been cross-referencing names,

trying to identify everyone at the NATO summit.

- Because? - This man.

The summit lunch, I've seen him at El Paradis with Miss Delaine.

We think Mr Cilenti may be deliberately encouraging

compromising situations in order to blackmail men like Commander Stern.

And others.

- An industry magnate? - Possibly.

Strictly Mr Wengrow is on the Home Desk.

But one suspects the reach of this particular story

- goes beyond that remit. - Yes.

The question one should be asking

is what is an industry magnate doing among diplomats?

Was there really nowhere better we could meet?

Dear, dear, Hector. I know you don't bear a grudge.

What is El Paradis without you?

For goodness sake, take off that coat.

You look as if you're waiting to be evacuated.

Ah!

Whisky, no ice.

- No, thank you. - My friend will have the same.

Pretty girl.

Why do you do it, Angus?

You don't find that young woman remotely attractive.

Actually, I've just met an absolutely lovely girl, Vera.

A distant cousin. We've been to the theatre twice.

Look, I've not come to fight.

You put on an absolutely marvellous display of your prowess

in that Orphanage Trust Party thingamajig.

Let us not repeat that.

I have a story for you.

Too late, we're on air tomorrow. We've got a story.

Mmm-hmm, Finch? The missiles, obviously?

- No point in denying it. - No, no, I can see the appeal.

Thank you.

Mmm.

I might have something else for you,

something a little stronger.

Been some slight trouble at the Treasury.

- Treasury? - Mmm-hmm.

Well, I won't bore you with the details, suffice to say

the entire Cabinet are looking to spend money, not least in defence,

and the Chancellor is adamant they can't.

So, sack Thorneycroft.

If you sack the Chancellor, you risk exposing the fact that he's right.

Thorneycroft and his colleagues, Powell and Birch,

are on the brink of resignation.

It's a case of "cut spending or else".

The Cabinet are in session as we speak.

You think you're in trouble, Hector?

Poor old Harold has never had it so bad.

Why bring this to us?

What has happened to Downing Street in the last few days

could well bring down the Government.

That's not what I asked.

Well, it makes for better copy than Finch.

I'm giving you first dibs, actually.

Just get your chaps down to Westminster tomorrow and watch it unfold.

It won't work. He hasn't resigned yet.

Well, he will have done by the time you go on air.

And you're leaving us with what? No time to react?

Even with the tip, we'll be no further ahead than any other news outfit.

And I can't pitch a discussion on a rumoured resignation.

It's hearsay. Miss Rowley won't buy it. Nor will Brown.

Well, then, I'll give you the whole scoop. Mmm?

Thorneycroft is itching to talk.

Or he will be.

You bring your camera, I'll bring the Chancellor,

we meet at Westminster.

- The interview is yours. - Exclusively?

I might not be Evelyn Waugh, Hector,

but I do know the meaning of the word "scoop".

- Same again? Same again. - No, no, I'm not staying.

Think about it, Hector.

If I don't hear from you, Uncovered are the next in line.

Evening, Mr Madden.

Actually, maybe I will stay for another drink.

- Yes? - It's me.

Hello, me.

- What are you doing? - I'm... I'm working.

Twenty-four hours till we go out.

- Are you quite alright? - Yes, I'm fine.

You don't sound it. You sound tense.

Um... It's just been one of those days.

Tell me.

No, I... I don't do that.

Oh, well, that's a shame

because I've been commended for my listening.

No. Sorry.

You'll just have to get used to tense.

- What time tonight? - Um... 9:00?

Are you still there?

Jane's away for the night, with her grandmother.

Right.

And now your silence is making me even tenser.

- I'll see you later. - Yeah.

Turn it off.

And disappoint your guests, Mr Cilenti?

They're not my guests. Get them out.

Sorry, gentlemen.

Right, how do we get this story to lead tomorrow?

This was taken a few weeks ago.

It's Mr Tufnell again.

And here's a list

of Mr Tufnell's professional activities through the years.

They seem pretty legitimate.

He's clearly made a considerable amount of money.

But the trail goes blank during the war.

No military record. So I asked Mr Wengrow to find out

what he was doing from '39 to '45.

The only name I could find was a Francesco Tufo,

who was interned in a POW camp on the Isle of Man.

The same Francesco Tufo who started a small company here in '46,

specialising in springs for pens, cars, etc.

- Mrs Lyon again. - Take another message, please.

She wants you to pick up some food for this evening.

Ron's. All I could find. Some sort of schnapps.

Oh, thank you. Well, beggars can't be choosers.

A year later, that firm was sold

and a second one was started by a man now known as Francis Tufnell.

He changed his name.

Presumably to grease his path.

But really, the interesting thing is

the name of one of his co-compatriots at the prisoner-of-war camp.

Mr Raphael Cilenti.

You might want your spectacles.

There.

And guess who is on Mr Tufnell's board of directors?

Raphael Cilenti.

And the name of the company in line to secure a million-pound contract

on the bases post the NATO summit?

Tufnell Engineering.

The same military bases which will house the American missiles.

Kiki is in a honey trap for Mr Tufnell.

She's the New Year's bonus.

Or a gift from one friend to another.

This blows Finch in the NATO summit out of the water.

Excuse me.

Excuse me.

All is well, Miss Delaine?

Thank you, Mr Cilenti.

Mr Tufnell.

I hope you're being very nice to my friend this evening.

- Always. - Good girl.

Whatever he wants.

Yes, Mr Cilenti.

No concern of yours, Miss Delaine. All is happy tonight.

Mr Madden. May I offer you a table?

No, thank you, Mr Cilenti, the view is just fine here.

- Excuse me, can I have a word? - Of course.

Miss Delaine.

I'll call the management.

I am not here to harangue you.

I'm not asking you to explain why you did what you did.

I'm warning you.

Whatever Commander Stern did to you before,

he will do it again.

Look, you're too young to understand what war does to men,

it shatters you.

It exposes the worst part of you,

makes you want to destroy even the most beautiful things.

I don't understand.

I wish you could.

Go away. Go away!

Got any more of that?

Cilenti's got me sitting at the top table again tonight.

You're stupid.

We're not exclusive.

Your commander know that?

I'm in trouble.

Rosa.

Go back to your gentleman. Don't let them see you with me.

Please.

Get out while you can, Kiki. Promise me.

You can get free from all this.

So can you.

Wish me luck.

I believe

In doing what I can

In crying when I must...

Your lady. She has been talking?

That don't mean nothing. Rosa just likes to gab.

You can't help yourself when you hear her sing...

She'll never be Miss Delaine.

You won't get a better dancer.

Dancers are easy to find.

Take care of it.

Somebody splendid who needs me

Someone affectionate and deep

Cares would be ended

If I knew that he

Wanted to have me near

You're too much. You really are too much.

Oh.

Laurie was just reminding me of that terribly funny dinner

we had at the Plaza Café Coronation Day, do you remember?

Drinking ourselves silly and toasting the new Queen until the early hours.

What are you doing here?

I was passing.

Marnie, could you leave us alone, please?

I'm sorry, Laurie.

I'm terribly sorry. Hector?

Please, do as I say.

Don't ever come to my house uninvited.

Hector.

I blotted it from my mind because it was wartime.

Trieste. Stuck in that warehouse for God knows how long.

Finally we had a night off in that God-awful village.

One girl to service all of us. You went first.

Yes, well, I'm not going to have this conversation.

So, I'm shown into this squalid back room,

and there, cowering on the bed, she'd been beaten black and blue.

I sat next to you on the way back. Never said a word.

I'll never forget what you did for me.

And I'd hoped one day to repay the favour but...

I can't.

And I can't stop The Hour from exposing the corruption in your force.

Christ.

It's out of my control.

It'll ruin me.

Now, you owe me.

You have to do something.

I can buy you a week.

But you stay away... from here,

and if you've any sense, from that young woman.

I can't!

Then you're a fool!

You're not the only one in her life.

Tell me you understand that?

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

You haven't done anything yet.

I know, I know, I know...

It's all right. Michael brought supper.

Come.

We have another pair of hands.

You can lick while I fold.

Can it wait till morning? I've got to go to bed.

Um, Michael, Anne, Philip, my husband Freddie.

Ah, the man who tells the world what's happening, eh?

I try.

Michael's heard Priestley speak.

He's been asked to work on the campaign for nuclear disarmament.

That's marvellous. Pie and chips for two.

Excuse me.

Rude.

- My house. - Our house!

Oh, you know, there's a reason people write music down before they play it.

It sounds better that way.

- You're so patronising. - Me patronising?

You've got Karl Marx, Groucho Marx and Gertrude Stein

conspiring revolution in my front room.

Well, at least they're doing something. Trying to do something.

I just need to sleep.

Freddie, don't you care?

Do you know this craziness going on in the world?

Missiles creating more missiles. Ours to be pointed at the Soviets,

theirs to be pointed back at us.

On and on it will go, Freddie.

Every day, horrible, horrible news!

What do you think I do all day

but try to make sense of those horrible stories?

Well, this is how we do it! This is how to affect change.

Same as you telling your story. Except we don't have to wear a suit.

This suit pays the bills.

Is this our life, Freddie?

Why do you think I work every night, late,

trying to deliver the most truthful perspective I can?

Because it's easier than to be here, with me.

Because then you can be with her.

With Bel.

Say it's not true.

It's not true.

Liar.

The poor man had to get his wife to re-type every letter after I'd gone.

In the end, he said,

"Well, if you can't type, maybe you'd be better at finding the story."

- And you are. - Mmm-hmm.

My first story was a fire in the East End.

A faulty boiler.

It killed two families and orphaned a 12-year-old boy.

I doorstepped the landlord until he admitted he was at fault,

made page six.

All my girlfriends were at dire dinner parties,

trying to find the perfect husband.

They still despair of me but...

how can I hide what's really important,

what really can change the world?

It's the simple act of telling someone's story.

But not forever?

No? Why can't I do it forever?

Ah, talking about something you don't want to talk about.

That thing you don't do again.

We got Priestley, on tomorrow's programme. He just confirmed.

No. How?

But if it's about the news, she will talk about it.

And so passionately on her subject.

I'm just very persuasive...

...when I set my heart on something.

You're still on edge.

Let's not be newsmen tonight. Let's just be...

No, go back to sleep.

I didn't know you were dropping by today.

Had a visitor?

Just a friend.

Yeah. Whore.

Did you honestly think I was only yours?

Do you honestly think it's enough, sitting in waiting for you to visit?

The arrogance.

All of you thinking you're the one.

Go on, then, hit me.

You want to do it, so...

I love you.

I love you, too.

You stupid little girl.

You have no idea what you've done.

You don't even know what you've done to me.

You can tell Mr Cilenti...

that I won't be requiring you any more.

Hector?

There are things I haven't told you about the war.

Things that we did.

Terrible things.

Laurie took over once when I couldn't.

When, as his commanding officer, I couldn't give orders.

He used a man as a shield, a French man intent on giving us away.

He got us out.

Oh, Hector.

He got us out, Marnie.

Oh, Hector.

Ah.

Are you ready?

- Do you want me to? - Yes, please.

Her name is Sofia.

Oh, they kept her name.

Sofia Mafrand.

She... She probably doesn't even speak English.

She's at the Conservatoire, studying music.

Music. Oh.

Sofia.

Nineteen.

- Done? - Yes.

Good.

A list of high-profile men, most of them in Government,

who've been entertained at El Paradis, who clearly are using their influence

to support Cilenti's life over here.

Your source at El Paradis?

I've been calling her all morning. She's not picking up.

She's too frightened.

- And Priestley? - Decided to go on ITV.

On Uncovered.

Thank you, Mr Wengrow. I wasn't expecting to see him

getting gonged on Take Your Pick.

- Mr Madden. - Good morning, Hector.

We don't need Priestley. This is the story.

A criminal, whose business empire is allowed to exist

due to wide-spread police corruption, a fact for which we now have evidence.

He maintains his power by blackmailing people of influence.

And who also may be profiteering

from contracts related to the imminent arrival of missiles.

His corruption goes nuclear.

Very good.

There is a time issue here.

Our contacts, our sources, may have endangered themselves by talking to us.

A young woman, she gave us the story.

If we run it tonight, if we go public,

it quashes the chance of repercussions for her.

- You're suggesting tonight? - Yes.

Really? I mean, it's a good story but...

But?

You might want to save it for another week.

The Chancellor is going to resign.

It's not been announced yet, but McCain has offered us the exclusive.

A 30-minute interview with the Chancellor this evening,

live from Westminster.

So, why is Mr McCain giving this to The Hour?

He owes me.

Oh, you can't be serious.

That's an incredible lead, Hector.

It's deflection is what it is. It couldn't be more obvious!

Can't you just be pleased?

Must you always be the one to get the scoop, Freddie?

This is the scoop!

While you were drinking whisky and jockeying for a pay rise,

we were working through the night to get this story. And for what?

All McCain wants is to bury the anti-nuclear story

and the Colonel's gaffe. It's deflection.

That's his job, to bury bad news.

A 30-minute interview plus analysis, it doesn't give time for anything else.

In terms of public interest, you know this is the more important story.

We can't ignore a scoop like this.

He's right. Mr Wengrow, talk to the outside broadcast unit.

See if they can get the Roving Eye. I'll speak to McCain.

We asked this girl to put her neck on the line.

If we weren't going to run the story, we would never have done that!

We have to run it now!

It's a corruption story, it'll wait a week.

Our priority has to be to cover political developments such as these.

Lix.

It's the much bigger story, darling.

Mr Madden to speak to the Chancellor, Mr Lyon to link from the studio.

You're doing this to cover your chum, Hector.

His news is ordered by Government and you bloody know it.

That Government runs this country

and any changes to the Cabinet is of public interest.

Shame on you, Hector.

Mr Brown, I wanted to thank you for...

Not necessary. Not if you're going to stay.

Post on my desk, please. And call Miss Ramirez again.

Oh, Ron, back a bit with that.

We want to light Mr Lyon, not interrogate him.

Right.

- Hello. - It's beautiful, all the lights.

Are you looking for Freddie? He's upstairs.

Do you mind?

No, not at all.

We're doing a live link with Westminster.

Exciting.

I suppose so.

Will you give Freddie a message?

But you can give it to him yourself.

My train leaves soon.

Please just tell him I'm going away for a couple of days with friends.

A holiday?

No, not exactly. How can one have a holiday when we live like this?

People in the city, they understand best what's happening in the world,

the nuclear threat, what it means for ordinary people,

yet they do nothing about it.

Um, Camille.

Are you all right?

Yeah.

Look after him. That's what he wants.

What you both want.

Um, that's not true.

Yes, it is. You just can't admit it.

Twenty minutes. Miss Rowley wants everyone on the floor.

Okay, just through here.

The Chancellor is just about to release his press statement.

Ready for D-Day?

As ready as I was for the real thing, Angus.

Yeah, then Mr Thorneycroft should have little to fear, I imagine.

He will be ready for you presently.

Uh. Oh, um...

They're waiting for you downstairs.

We've just got to get on with it, Freddie. No complaining.

Who's complaining?

Sorry.

Not even a dent.

Camille dropped by. Um, she said she was going away for a few days.

Right.

I asked her to wait but, um...

We keep fighting.

Right.

About you.

She says all I care about is the story.

The story and...

you.

Miss Ramirez is just not answering.

McCain.

Oh, my...

Five minutes, ladies and gentlemen. Five minutes, please.

Mr Brown.

What if we aren't covering the Chancellor's story

because McCain wants to sink the gaffe?

What if we're covering it

because somewhere Cilenti is pulling McCain's strings?

What if we are about to go live with the very story Cilenti wants us to run?

Courtesy of our contact?

Oh, she hasn't answered.

It's too late. Too damn late.

Mr Lyon!

- Thanks, Isaac. - Chancellor, Mr Madden.

Mr Thorneycroft.

Stand by, everyone. We're going live in 25 seconds.

And cue grams.

Mr Wengrow, tell Mr Madden we're coming to him in 20 seconds.

Ten, nine, eight,

seven, six...

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