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The question is, that this House approve
Her Majesty's government policy

on internal security.

Sir George Wheeler.

Dr. Johnson said

that "Patriotism was
the last refuge of a scoundrel."

If this is true,
you see before you a villain.

Unmasked and unashamed.

Except that with me,

patriotism is not a refuge,

it is a proud vantage point
on which I take my stand.

And certainly it was never last,

but always,

throughout my 25 years
as a member of Parliament,

always first.

My first priority, my first endeavor,
my first proud duty.

This nation of ours has withstood the
shock of foreign arms for many centuries.

But today we face a subtler

and potentially much more
dangerous enemy.

I'm referring to our complacency,

our permissiveness,
and our all too frequent eagerness

to surrender those values

which many men
gave their lives to preserve.

We must fight, my friends,

we must fight all those
who seek to undermine

the quality of our British way of life,

whether they be gunmen in the streets,

whether they be subversive elements
from foreign lands

or whether they be

weak-kneed men in our own high places.

- Good day.
- Mr. Rearden.

He's expecting you.

Go straight in.

- Mackintosh.
- Hello, Rearden.

Bring in some tea, would you, Mrs. Smith?

People who work in offices
drink tea all the time.

- Mrs. Smith?
- She's in the know.

- How was the flight?
- Not bad.

Good.

I think we'll wait until the girl
brings in the tea before we start.

All right.

- How's your accent?
- It's all right.

Fair dinkum, cobber.

Would you like me to sing
Waltzing Matilda?

Tell me,

what is the most outstanding property
of the diamond?

- Come again?
- The diamond.

It's forever.

The size.

You could put diamonds worth £100,000

into a package hardly big enough

to write an address
and leave room for a stamp.

You mean they send diamonds
in the mail?

Every day.

The insurance companies
have great trust in the GPO.

Used to have couriers,

but the couriers got to be known
by the wide boys.

There were a number of beatings-up
and a few deaths.

Another thing was that,
humans being but human,

couriers could be corrupted.

Anyway, the courier system fell through
for a number of reasons.

But what about the present system?

Once a parcel is swallowed up
in the maw of the post office,

not even God can extract it. And why?

Because it is just one of millions of parcels
that are passing through the mails.

- Do you follow me?
- Sure. So far.

The stones are sent in all sizes
and shapes of parcel.

The parcels are labeled
in a multitude of ways.

Anything to confuse the issue.

The most important thing
is the anonymity of the destination.

There are a number
of accommodation addresses,

having nothing to do
with the diamond industry,

to which the stones are sent.

And the same address
is never used twice running.

Very interesting.

Take a postman, walking up the street.

Not an unusual sight.

He's carrying say, £100,000
worth of diamonds.

But he doesn't know it
and nor does anyone else.

Not even the recipient.

As there's no guarantee of delivery
at any specific time.

Now, I know when
a parcel of diamonds is being sent.

I know the packaging
and it's unmistakable,

and I know the accommodation address.

I've rented an office on the same floor...

- Good day.
- Afternoon, sir.

Your ticket and passport.

You have to write your number in words.

The number is 10365.

This number, written on the right
check form in place of a signature,

will release to you any amount of money
up to £40,000 sterling.

Or its equivalent in any currency you wish.

I know a good deal about you,
Mr. Rearden, from Mackintosh.

He said you are the best.

That's surprising, he's very close-mouthed.

He trusts me.

Good luck.

- Would you like me to stay?
- Sure. I'd be delighted.

That's the least I can do.

- You mean, just an act of mercy?
- No.

I said that to seem less wanton.

Okay.

Rearden.

Hi.

Anything in there for me? I work inside.

I'll have a look, sir. What's the name?

No need for that.

- Yes?
- Mr. Rearden?

- Are you Joseph Rearden?
- That's right.

We're police officers.

We hope you can assist us
with our enquiries.

I don't see how.

I'm a stranger in London.
Just got in from Sydney.

We know all that, Mr. Rearden.
May we come in?

This is Detective Sergeant Jervis
and my name is Brunskill.

Well, why don't you sit down?

We're making some enquiries
about the theft of a package

from a postman
in Leather Lane this morning.

What can you tell us about it,
Mr. Rearden?

Nothing.

- Like I told you, I'm a stranger.
- Come, Mr. Rearden.

- You can do better than that.
- All right.

You tell me what
I'm supposed to have done

and I'll tell you whether I did it.

How did you scrape your knuckles?

Shadow boxing a lamppost.
I got a little pissed last night.

You won't mind if we
search your room, Rearden?

Yeah, I do mind.

- Unless you got a warrant.
- I think you'll find this in order.

You won't find anything.

Whether he does or not,

I must ask you to come along
to the police station.

You'll have to arrest me first.

Very well, Mr. Rearden,
I arrest you on suspicion

of assaulting a postman in Leather Lane

at about 9:30 this morning.

- Does that satisfy you?
- It'll do for starters.

What's the matter, Rearden? Nervous?

- Not really.
- Well, you ought to be.

The postman's in a bad way.
You hit him too hard.

- He may hand in his chips.
- Which postman?

I knew you'd say that. I'm psychic.

We have treatment for that nowadays.

What did you do with the diamonds,
Rearden?

Since you're psychic,
you know what I'm gonna say.

You're gonna say,
"Which diamonds?" Right?

Right.

I don't like you, Rearden.
You're a bloody crook.

I'd like to get you alone,
all to myself, for about 10 minutes.

We've been having a wonderful time
together, Inspector. Rearden and me.

Lots of jokes and laughing.

My trouble is, I got no sense of humor.

But I'm an absolute bugger for files.
I love specific information.

Now, you've been shy, Rearden.
I mean, shy about your achievements.

You don't have to be
like that anymore with me.

I've got your record here from Interpol.

Fingerprints, mug shots,
lots of juicy gossip.

I should put that paper down.

One conviction, that's the lot.

Why were you flying
to Switzerland tomorrow?

Because I'm a tourist.

It's your first time in England,
too, isn't it?

Look, I'm getting sick of this.
I want my solicitor.

- Anyone particular in mind?
- Yeah. Call 586-7595.

Mr. Usher.

A tourist in England for less than a week

and he's got his bloody solicitor
ready and fixed?

And the right solicitor, too.

When you were a little boy, Rearden,

what did you want to be
when you grew up?

A walloper.

A policeman.

But you couldn't make it,

so you became the next best thing, a thief.

Come on, Rearden.
Tell us about the diamonds.

Well, it's just like you said it was,
only it's the other way around.

I'm the postman.

The guy you think is the postman,
he clipped me,

took the diamonds and changed clothes.

He's the one you want, sport.

I'd have told you straight off,
except he's me brother.

It may seem strange
to the court, Mr. Boyd,

to send £140,000 worth of diamonds
through the post.

- Is that unusual?
- Not really.

The insurance companies
regard the GPO quite highly.

It's a matter of statistics.

Very few parcels are lost.

How would your firm account
for the robbery in Leather Lane?

Quite simply.

The thief had inside information.

Thank you, Mr. Boyd.

- Cross examination, Mr. Rollins.
- As your Lordship pleases.

Well, he had an advantage over me.
I mean, he took me by surprise.

I wasn't expecting it.

Otherwise, I'd have got him for sure.
I really would've clobbered him.

I'm quite sure that you would have,
Mr. Bugner.

Now, let us return to this point.

You have no doubts
that the man who assaulted you

is the man seated there,
in the dock, Joseph Rearden?

That's him, all right.
No mistake about that.

No more questions, my Lord.

Acting on information received,
I went with Detective Sergeant Jervis

to see Rearden at his hotel.

And what happened then?

His answers to my questions were such
that I arrested him

on suspicion of having been
connected with this crime.

And then?

Now, Inspector, may I take you back?

You said,
"Acting on information received."

How did this information come to you?

- There was a telephone call.
- From whom?

Inspector, could it possibly
have been anonymous?

Yes.

You call that evidence!
A goddamn phony phone call!

Silence in court!

- The whole thing's been rigged!
- You will be silent, sir!

- That postman's a lying bastard!
- You will be silent!

Restrain that man!

- Sit down.
- Look, I stood up all right.

I guess I can sit down, all right?

Any further disturbance,
and you will be removed

from the proceedings
until you can control yourself.

The prisoner will rise.

Joseph Rearden.

You have been found guilty
of stealing by force

a packet of diamonds valued at £140,000.

In the normal course of events,
such a crime as yours, a crime of violence,

would be punished by the heavy sentence
of 14 years imprisonment.

My calculation, however, informs me

that for those 14 years

you would be receiving an annual income

of £10,000, tax free.

Now, it is not the function of this Court

to make the fees of crime attractive.

Joseph Rearden,

I sentence you to 20 years imprisonment.

- Take him down.
- Well.

Be upstanding in court.

Up the stairs.

Right.

Left.

Stop. This is yours.

Any of you men feeling unwell?

Pick up your chamber pot,
and prepare for slopping out.

I haven't used it.

It gets slopped out
whether you used it or not.

Do as you're told with no argument.

That's lesson number one.

Anyone sick?

Any of you men feeling unwell?

Come on, get up.

Come along there.

Anybody sick?

- You Rearden?
- Right.

My name's Palmer. I like you.

You hardly know me.

That doesn't matter.

Come along.

Do you think you'd like to dance with me?

I can't make it go that way.

- You sure?
- Yeah, I'm pretty sure.

It might depend on how long I'm in here.

Ask me again in a couple of years.

No offense. If you change your mind,
I'm in the phone book.

They're the high security risks.

The last one with the screws, that's Slade.
He was a Commie spy.

Masqueraded as an Englishman
for 28 years. Dirty Red.

Should have hung him.

Halt!

Break off.

Halt!

Break off.

Here you are.

Take it, I've only got syph.

- What are you in for, Buster?
- Mopery.

Exposing yourself to a blind woman.

No, I'm an inside man, really.
Went up the wrong drainpipe.

Come in two Christmases ago,
doing a five.

Who knows, next time.

Try the straight and narrow.

Strictly for the peasants.

Couldn't imagine myself working in a
garage all week getting black and greasy.

Ever go over the wall?

Easy enough to get over,
but it gets hard the other side.

Helicopters, radios, police dogs.
It's like a bleeding army maneuver.

Most of them run round
eating raw turnips for a week.

No future in it.

Like the toilet said to the flower girl,
"Let's reflect on that."

That fella there's in for rape.
Got six years.

Found the underwear in his car.

Fella over there, doing life.

Murdered an old woman.
Mistaken his wife.

He was pissed at the time, of course.

Salt?

Mr. Rearden, isn't it?

Soames-Trevelyan here.
We haven't met yet.

About time we should, don't you think?

There's been a lot of loose talk lately.

You know how the word gets around.

Prison's a great place for gossip, you see.

- Is that right?
- Gossip about you.

Talk's the only thing
that comes easy around here.

Oh, let's not be unpleasant,
my dear fellow.

You never know
when a few friends might turn up

to ease the pain of life, so to speak.

- Tell me.
- Scarperers.

Never heard of them.

Well, they're a special bunch for
breaking out long-termers, like you.

They're a bit expensive,
but they guarantee delivery.

- Am I boring you?
- Christ, no.

- All comes out like music.
- Well, they're very efficient chaps.

How are you, my dear fellow?

How are you going?

Catching up on my education.

- Helps pass the time.
- Oh, I dare say.

Good stuff, Dickens.
Now, he understood the criminal mind.

I'm afraid, as our time is rather short,

we must have a little discussion
along pecuniary lines.

- Bugs Bunny.
- Precisely.

- How much?
- Well, it's a little like tax collecting.

You made off with £140,000.

My friends want half.

£70,000.

Oh, kiss my ass, Colonel Blimp.

It was exactly £120,000 on the drop.

The owners pumped it up
a bit for the insurance.

Nobody sells at full price.

Besides, I had a partner.

What, did your partner shop you?

If he did, that means you're broke,

and therefore, you're a very dull person
and of no interest to anyone.

No, he's not the one who shopped me.

Very well. How much was your take?

The Historical Road of Eastern Orthodoxy.

Excellent prison fare.

- My cut was £40,000.
- So, it's still half.

In 20 years, at £1,000 a year,
it's cheap at half the price.

They take you over the wall,
deliver you outside the country.

I've got a question.

If your jokers are so flaming good,
what the hell are you doing in here?

Well, that's a very embarrassing question,
my dear Rearden.

I'm afraid I can't afford
to run with this crowd.

In any case,
I've only two more years to serve.

I'll buy that. Get on with it.

Well, first they do a lot of homework.

You know, poke around Sydney.

Talk to all your old friends,
and if you check out, they take you on.

Oh, and by the way,
they'll require £5,000 as a sort of deposit.

The rest is payable on delivery.

I don't like the rules.

Well, they make the rules,
old man, not you.

Oh, and by the way, they only ask once.

Now, are you in or out?

Right! Everybody from D Block, out!

Give me a check on
the Ausfuhren Handels Bank, Zurich.

Ausfuhren Handels Bank, Zurich.

Righty-ho.

Hey.

One, two, three, four, five, six,
seven, eight, nine, ten.

Check.

Care for a game, my dear fellow?

Well.

Congratulations!

You certainly passed muster in Sydney.

- I would.
- Well, it's all set.

You'll be taken out in daylight.

DDD 1500 hours, Saturday.

The southwest corner of the exercise yard.

It's a date.

Incidentally, you won't be going out alone.

- How many others?
- Oh, no, no, only the one. Slade.

- Slade?
- Try not to bump into him on the way out.

My friends wouldn't like that.

You see, he's worth rather more
to them than you are.

No need to rub it in.

And one thing more to remember.

Once you are out,

if you can't raise the other £15,000,
God help you.

They asked me to tell you this in case
you might want to change your mind.

The money will be there.

"'I see - in at the palace door one day,
out at the window the next.

"'Philosopher, Sir?'

"'An observer of human nature, Sir, '
said Mr. Pickwick.

"'Ah, so am I. Most people are
when they've little to do... '"

Fight! Fight!

Fight! Fight!

Christ! Dynamite! Get the hell out of here!

Welcome aboard, gentlemen.

Take those clothes off and put these on.

How does it feel to be out, then?

I'm not sure I am yet.

- Oh, you are. You can bet on it.
- Mr. Rearden,

we haven't got much time.

Just one moment, please.

What's that for?

Thank you.

Mr. Slade, please.

My name is Gerda, Mr. Rearden.

You may be feeling a bit ill
after your medication.

I have brought you some aspirin
and something to settle your stomach.

Thank you.

Where am I?

Now, Mr. Rearden, I cannot tell you that.

You would know as much as I do then.

That's not the way we like to do things.

- What's up with him?
- Oh, he will be all right.

He's older than you.

It's taking him a bit longer to recover.

You will be confined to this room,
until the time comes to move you again.

About a week from now, if all goes well.

We hope to make your stay here
as comfortable as possible.

You'll find your clothing fits
you perfectly.

We know all your dimensions.

Your new name is Raymond Cruickshank.

Passport and wallet.

You are a naturalized American citizen.

These are your initialed cuff links,

and the same initials are on your suitcase.

- What's this?
- The wife and kids.

That's nice.

Help yourself to drinks from the bar.

If there's anything at all you need,
just press this button here.

Yeah.

I'd like a poke.

A poke, Mr. Rearden?

Yeah, a poke. You know what I mean.

How about it, stretch?

I'm afraid I stopped being a woman
several years ago.

- Get someone else.
- No, that's not possible.

- Why not?
- Security, obviously.

I don't have to talk to her.

Well, even if she did not speak,
she would see you.

Put a bag over her head.

But you would see her.

Put a bag over my head.
I've been in prison for 15 months.

I'm afraid you will have to control
those desires for another week or so.

Well, how about a newspaper?
Or is that asking too much?

The London Times will be brought to you.

- Your bath is drawn, Mr. Rearden.
- Thank you.

Taafe doesn't speak very much.
He hasn't got a tongue.

Oh, there you are!

How do you do, Mr. Rearden?

Hello, Mr. Slade. How're you feeling?

As though everything were underwater.

We're in the newspapers, by the way.

- Have you been awake long?
- Half an hour.

Must've been out for a couple of days.

Five puncture marks.

Yes, five.

- We match.
- Christ! Newspapers.

Put your name in the headlines

and don't mention me
till the second paragraph.

Yes, I'm afraid patriotic criminals
always get top billing.

Diamonds, secrets. What's the difference?
We're both thieves.

Oh, quite, quite.

A couple of days.

Have you any idea where we are?
I asked, but they wouldn't tell me.

A lot of rock walls.

Could be Yugoslavia, Greece.

- Or the Cotswolds?
- No, it's near the sea.

- How do you know it's near the sea?
- I can smell it.

Well,

seems we're in here for a week
and then on to our destinations.

- At least, you know where you're going.
- Yes, I'm going home.

"Sleep after toil, port after stormy seas,

"ease after war,

"death after life does greatly please."

I don't know about you, Slade.

I'm not ready for death.
The rest I'll drink to.

Mr. Rearden!

You are dressed, good.
Mr. Brown would like to see you.

- Mr. Brown? Not really.
- Of course not.

Rearden! Good. Come in.

- You're looking fit. Help yourself.
- Thank you.

Yes, very fit,
considering all you've been through.

Yes, I've forgotten, though,
you were asleep all the time, weren't you?

No doubt it did you good.

Excellent therapy.

I wish I could afford the luxury myself.

I envy you. Yes, I do, indeed.

And now to business.

- You owe us £15,000.
- That's right.

I've obtained a check
from the same Swiss bank as before.

I trust my presumption was correct.

Your account number?

You haven't forgotten it, I trust?

Hardly. Just...

I understand I'm going to be here a week.
Why a whole week? Phone Zurich.

They can tell you whether
that check's good or not.

We prefer having cash in hand.

And it isn't entirely a question
of the money, Mr. Rearden.

It really is to your advantage
to remain here while the dust settles.

And when it has?

We'll send you on.

Any objections in your telling me
where you intend to turn me loose?

Yes, there are,

and I frankly confess
that this is entirely to our advantage.

The less you know, the better for us.

Just out of curiosity,
do I have another long therapeutic sleep?

It's our policy, Mr. Rearden,
not to burden our clients

with gratuitous information.

We promised you safe delivery
outside England and we'll keep our word.

Why? Because it's good business.

You are by no means the first,
and you certainly won't be the last

to pass through our hands.

That a spy,

who has penetrated the innermost secrets
of the British government,

along with a spectacularly
successful jewel thief,

should break out of a high security prison
in broad daylight,

bespeaks an inconceivable laxity
on the part of

those whose responsibilities
cover these areas.

I therefore propose, Mr. Speaker,
that a further investigation

be undertaken into the penal
institutions of our country,

and into the men involved
in their administration.

Hear! Hear!

Mr. Tomasett.

Does the Home Secretary realize
that his last reply is totally inadequate?

It is just not good enough
to leave it at this.

"That it is within the competence
of a general enquiry."

There are two quite separate issues here.

The first...

- Good to see you, Angus.
- George.

Is it important?

I've got a question coming up
in a few minutes.

Yes, it is.

- Thank you.
- We should be all right in here.

George,

I'm going to break security with you
on one of our operations.

That's not like you, Angus.

I'm attempting to save you
from possible embarrassment,

after the way you've been hammering
at the government.

But my greatest pleasure in life
is to hammer at the government,

if I think they're being
careless or irresponsible.

I assume we are talking
about the Slade affair?

Precisely.

Well, if I were later to discover
that the Home Secretary

had actually instructed
the Governor of Chelmsford jail

to give Slade a leg-up over the wall,

I suppose I might be mildly embarrassed.

- Are you telling me that's what happened?
- No, no.

But he'll not make it home.

We've penetrated the organization
that ran the escape.

Slade will either be brought back,
or killed.

Within the week
the network should be blown.

- And if your agent fails?
- He won't fail.

We run very tight security.

Only he and I know, and now you, George.

I've always admired your ingenuity.

Now I'm equally impressed
by your loyalty.

I'm only trying to help you, George.

You know, a certain few of us
over at Whitehall

see you as one of the last responsible
voices left in the Commons.

We'd hate to see this matter
cloud your career.

You might end up looking rather a fool.

Cloud my career?

We don't want that to happen. No, no.

Pity.

It was a beautifully
phrased question.

Mr. Brown would like to see you,
Mr. Slade.

Check.

- What's up?
- I'm packing Mr. Slade.

We're moving on?

My instructions were only
to pack for Mr. Slade.

- Well, what about me?
- I don't know, Mr. Rearden.

What the hell?

How dare you kick my dog, you reprobate!

I cannot abide cruelty to dumb animals.
You shall be taught a lesson.

And while you get it,
let's hear your real name.

Joseph Rearden.

What the hell is going on?
Take your hands off me!

- Where're you from?
- You know bloody well where I'm from.

Queensland, 1967.

- Who was the oldest lag?
- Whitey Reitman.

- Have a cell mate?
- Yeah, Danny Logan.

- Who are you?
- Joseph Rearden.

- What was Logan in for?
- Armed robbery.

- Who are you?
- Joseph Rearden.

How many executions during your cut?

Three.

- What's your real name?
- Joseph Rearden.

Come on.

Turn around.

Say it.

- Fire!
- Louder.

Fire!

After him, Gunner! Get him!

Gunner! Gunner!

Gunner!

Gunner! Gunner, where are you?

Gunner!

Gunner!

Sir!

- Jesus Christ.
- Do you speak English?

- Yes. What were you speaking?
- Gaelic.

Gaelic.

Wonderful country, Ireland.

I'd like to call London, please.

What number do you want?

01-237-9960.

The line to London is engaged.
I'll call you back.

I'm in a pay phone.

You would be.
It's the only phone in Roundstone.

Hang up, now. I'll call you back.

Here.

Here. Here's half a quid.

Here's another one.

You get me in there when
that phone rings, okay?

...to stand there and watch her go up.

Ardfrye.

First she's burned down in the Troubles,
Mr. Brown restores it,

now she's just a shell again.
It makes you think.

Pitiful it was, pitiful!
Him standing there calling for the dog.

"Gunner! Gunner!" Pitiful!

- Burned to death?
- Aye.

What started it?
That's what I'd like to know.

Sure, nobody knows.

But the Castle is bound to investigate him.
You may be sure about that.

I've always found Mr. Brown
a very decent man,

and he was a great Garda.

- Be sorely missed.
- Aye.

I said to him, says I,

"It's a great shame, all your fine things
gone up in smoke, like that."

He had antiques, oil paintings, the like.

He said it could have been worse,
no one was hurt.

- Can you beat that?
- Aye.

Maybe he'll build her up again.

Maybe, but from the look of him,
all shriveled like, I wouldn't think so.

Stricken, he was.

- What do you think he will do?
- The poor man doesn't know.

Miss Gerda and Mr. Taafe
helped him into the car

and the three of them just drove off.

- Mrs. Smith?
- Yes.

- It's Rearden. I'm in Ireland.
- Where in Ireland?

Let me speak to Mackintosh.

- No, you can't talk to him.
- Why not?

He was hit by a car. He is in hospital.

- Is it bad?
- Yes. Serious.

Christ! Who do I talk to?

- You can talk to me.
- All right. Listen.

A place called Ardfrye House
burned down last night.

Near Roundstone.
Owned by a man named Brown.

Masquerading as a country squire
or something.

There's a photograph of him attending
a local flower show, or something.

He knows he's in trouble,
so he's on the run.

- Where is Slade?
- I wish I knew.

Disappeared into thin air.

Left no forwarding address.

There is an airstrip
outside Galway Town, Oranmore.

I'll be there in five hours from now.

- The Artina's coming.
- The Artina! The Artina's coming!

Ahoy, Artina!

- Is that you, O'Donovan?
- Now, who else?

Sir George wishes
to buy all his good friends a drink.

Good man yourself, Sir George.

Whatever they'll have from this moment

till we weigh anchor is on me!

Your obedient servant, sir!

And let no man in Roundstone go thirsty.

Three cheers for Sir George.

- Hip, hip!
- Hooray!

- Hip, hip!
- Hooray!

- Hip, hip!
- Hooray!

- Excuse me.
- Do you listen to them?

Cheering that bloody Englishman,
and for what?

For a round of free drinks.

Sir George,
you'd think he was God Almighty.

- Who might Sir George be?
- Sir George Wheeler.

- A politician?
- I haven't a clue.

All I know is, he's rich, he's English,

and he comes to Roundstone
for the fishing.

Where can I rent a car around here?

You must be joking.

There's no car hire in Roundstone.

I'll take anything with an engine
and wheels. Pay in advance.

I could ask the brother-in-law.

What happened?

I'd hoped you would have
the answer to that.

- You had a beating?
- Yeah. Took a hell of a beating.

Somebody put the finger on me. Who?

No one else knew anything,
except Mackintosh and me.

All right.

You know better than I do,
it could not have been him.

- So?
- It wasn't me.

I only have your word on that.

You suspect me, Mr. Rearden?

- Then, why am I here?
- I'm working on the answer.

To kill you, perhaps?
Assuming I'm a double agent.

Yet another passport for you.

This time you are a Canadian, a rancher.

What do we do now?

Nothing. Slade's gone.

I was supposed to kill him
rather than let him get away,

but they were on to me
before I had a chance.

I'm glad in a way, I kind of liked Slade.

Is Brown the only hope of tracing him?
What about the others?

They're a couple of half-baked
hooligans out there, beating the bogs,

but they wouldn't know anything.

- How's Mackintosh?
- He's still in a coma.

Oh, Christ! It'll take weeks to clear me.

Unless he dies.

There is a letter. He always writes one.

It's to be given to the Prime Minister
in case of his death.

- Well, who's got it?
- His solicitor.

Well, get it. Tell him it's an emergency.

An act of Parliament couldn't open
that envelope before he dies.

Fly to London.
Smother Mackintosh with his pillow.

No, I wouldn't do that. He's my father.

Everything was working for us
until yesterday.

Then things began to happen, bad things.

Slade, you, Mackintosh.
Last night was no accident.

None of it was.

What did he do yesterday?

He was in the garden all morning.

We lunched. Then he went into town.

- He had one appointment.
- With who?

That stupid ass, George Wheeler.

Wheeler!

- Slade's on that boat.
- What boat?

Get in.

- What's Wheeler like?
- Never met him.

Well, what do you know about him?

Good family. Inherited wealth.
Extreme reactionary.

Mackintosh has known him
for years, casually.

- How?
- Cambridge, the army during the war.

What was he?

He was a major in the Special Air Service.

He was parachuted
into Yugoslavia in 1942.

Fought with them for two years.

Excellent war record.

Hold on. They are going to Malta.

It's been announced in the press.

Wheeler is going to review
the British forces there.

Directly to Malta? No ports of call?

Hello. Are there any stops on the way?

He said no.

Thank you.

Do you think they intend
to rendezvous with a Russian trawler?

Not with ship's company looking on.
No, Malta's perfect.

They can put Slade ashore
and make a switch there. Come on.

Do you always drive like this?

Only when we're being followed.

- Wheeler's a spy.
- And I am Pharaoh's daughter.

Mackintosh knew he was a spy,
except he had no proof.

Look, he broke his own security.
That was no slip. It was intentional.

It was a deliberate act
to create this situation,

and everything's going according to plan.

Slade and I were the bait.

Wheeler took it and he's running with it.

All that remains now,
is for Mackintosh to set the hook,

horse him in.

But he can't do it, 'cause he's in a coma.

The one thing he couldn't foresee.

But we have no proof.
Just your suppositions.

No. Conclusions.

When the Artina docks at Valletta,
I'll prove them.

Now, let's see how good they really are.

Do you think they can swim, Mr. Rearden?

I hardly think that matters, Mrs. Smith.

"One of the brightest occasions of this
winter season will take place tomorrow,

"aboard Sir George Wheeler's yacht,
the Artina.

"Among the distinguished guests
will be cabinet ministers,

"church dignitaries,
as well as members of Malta's elite.

"The Baroness de Vero has promised
to wear the Cisconia diamonds,

"including the fabulous
eight-pointed Star of Sicily."

Well, now, where on Earth
would she put that?

That's where Mackintosh met my mother.

She was in the Resistance.

They were married in Paris.

Code names, both wanted by the Gestapo.

- Waiting for the knock on the door.
- They enjoyed it.

Like us.

- Well, we're addicts, Mrs. Smith.
- Yes. Hooked.

But maybe one day it would be nice
to say, "I love you" to someone.

- What?
- Nothing.

- You said something.
- A murmur of contentment.

I am at peace, body and soul.

- Is that true?
- No.

- Pity.
- Liar.

How long do you say you could stand this?

I don't know. About as long as you could.

Right on time.

"Sleep after toil, port after stormy seas."

It's the end of the line for Slade,
poor bastard.

And if he isn't onboard?

Be the biggest cock-up
since Burgess and Maclean.

- George Wheeler's such a nice man.
- Oh, fine chap.

Oh, mes gants!

- I beg your pardon?
- My gloves.

- I forgot them in the car.
- Oh, yes.

- The black Mercedes.
- Yes, of course.

Oh, I'm sorry.

- Sorry.
- Are they gone?

- No gloves.
- Oh!

I probably have left them at home.

- I'm sorry to trouble you.
- Not at all. No trouble.

It's really a pleasure.

- Summers.
- How nice to see you.

- How's Stu this year?
- Oh, very well.

- Same as well as last.
- Yes.

- How do you do?
- How do you do?

Sir George Wheeler. Mr. and Mrs...

I'm dying to see the inside of it,
aren't you?

It's really fantastic.

Do you know, I've known Veronique
since she was a little girl.

When she was at school
with my daughter, you know.

Yes, we used to spend every summer
in Antibes together until her mother died.

- How is your father, dear Mackintosh?
- Très bien.

You know her father
was incredible during the war.

He has the Croix de Guerre,

the Croix de la Libération
and the Croix de Résistance.

You know, dear, we always talk about you.

Did you know that Colette
was married last year?

- No.
- No?

Oh, and what about yourself?
Are you still Mackintosh?

- Mrs. Smith.
- Oh, I'm delighted for you.

I'd like to meet him. Is he here?

I'll find him for you.
I'll bring him to you.

Oh, yes.

All right. Excuse me.

Oh, I'm sorry. Excuse me.

Mrs. Smith.

This really is an unexpected pleasure.

I've just been told that your father
was Angus Mackintosh.

- Have a drink.
- Thank you.

I've known your father
since before you were born.

We worked together during the war.
Special Operations.

I was in the Balkans,
your father was in France.

I heard about the accident.
I'm terribly sorry.

Some of these motorists
are criminally irresponsible.

- How is the dear fellow?
- He's still in hospital.

Well, I'm sure it can't be too serious.

Otherwise, you wouldn't be here,
would you?

To his speedy recovery.

He's a tough old bird, your father.

I always hoped he'd come into politics,
but that world is not for him.

Even the best of politicians
have to compromise sometimes.

It's something that he simply couldn't do.

I want to see the Commissioner.

- Have you got an appointment?
- No.

What is the nature of your business?

I wanna report a crime.

- Your name, please?
- Rearden.

First name?

I must see the Commissioner.
I must see him now.

Go upstairs, to your right
and ask for Sub-Inspector Tanti.

Inspector Tanti?

Excuse me.

I have information as to the whereabouts
of Ronald Slade.

- Slade?
- Yes.

The convict who escaped from Chelmsford
three weeks ago. He's in Malta.

Where?

With all due respect,
I'd prefer to tell the Commissioner.

Just a moment.

Your father's the...

He's the straightest person
I've ever known.

Yes, I'm sure.

He came to see me
on the day of the accident.

He spoke about you with
the greatest affection, as he always does.

Now, what brings you to Malta?

Is something the matter?
Are you feeling all right?

- Can I help you?
- I'm sorry.

Just come in here and rest for a while.

You'll be all right. That's a girl.

What is the source of your information?
How are you connected with this matter?

- Let me answer those questions later.
- Who are you?

I'm a British intelligence officer,
incognito.

My passport is false.
I have no proof of my real identity.

You are not, perhaps, out of your mind?

Look, detain me. Lock me up.

But for God's sake, search the Artina.
Slade is onboard.

Impossible, without instructions
from a governmental authority.

We must have material evidence.

Evidence? You want evidence?

My name is Joseph Rearden,
also wanted in England.

Slade and I escaped Chelmsford together.
Get my file from Interpol.

Ahoy, Artina!

- Come aboard, Commissioner.
- Oh, there you are, Sir George.

To what do I owe this honor?

Excuse me, but how many
are in your party, Sir George?

Myself and a complement of four.

Three crew members and one cook.

- I mean, how many are aboard?
- One, beside myself.

The rest are on shore sampling

the fleshpots of Valletta.

- How well do you know them, sir?
- Oh, I know them very well indeed.

This man, Cox, is the latest addition.

And you've been with us,
three, two years, is it?

Yes, sir.

Why all the questions, Commissioner?

Allegations have been made, sir,
that Ronald Slade is aboard.

But that's the most absurd thing
I ever heard in all my life.

And my own opinion, Sir George.

- And where did such an idea come from?
- This man.

- And who might this man be?
- Joseph Rearden.

Joseph Rearden?

Well, have him come aboard.
Let's have a look at him.

Bring him here!

It is Joseph Rearden.

I've seen your picture in the newspapers.

You're the famous jewel thief
who escaped from Chelmsford.

He's a wanted man.
Congratulations, Commissioner!

Thank you, Sir George.

This is a terrific coup
for the Maltese police.

Search the ship.

- Oh, no, Sir George.
- Please, I insist.

I insist. Do a thorough job.

So you insist that I have
Ronald Slade onboard?

How did you arrive
at this ridiculous conclusion?

I like to study the workings
of the criminal mind at close quarters,

whenever I have the opportunity,
so please, speak out.

Oh, you're very good, Wheeler.

You're better than good,
but then you've had a lot of practice.

More than anyone else in Great Britain
today, I stand for law and order.

Consequently, I have become
the criminals' favorite target.

I'm the arch enemy, whom you
and all your underworld colleagues

are so pathetically determined
to abuse and damage.

- Where's Mrs. Smith?
- Mrs. Smith?

Yes, I believe there
was a Mrs. Smith here today,

but she left with the other guests.

Where are they?

The church at Marsaxlokk.

Show me. Come on.

Get out.

Hold it.

Go on.

Well done, Cox.

We've been expecting you, Rearden.

If you value this girl's life,
you'll lower your pistol.

She and Cox will be the first victims,
if we start to exchange bullets.

Then you and Wheeler kill each other

and I could beat the drums
like the last act in Hamlet.

Barbaric and unnecessary.

Cox, go to my speedboat
and signal the seaplane with a flashlight.

Let him go.
He's not serving any useful purpose.

Your companion, Mrs. Smith,
has been a mine of information.

However, she's made one statement
that requires corroboration,

so I'm going to ask you some questions.

If you so much
as hesitate before answering,

I shall assume
that Mrs. Smith has been lying.

Am I to understand
that Mackintosh wrote a letter?

He did.

What were the contents of this letter?

His suspicion of you.
My role in the affair.

Enough, after what's happened,
to put you away for a long time.

- Who has it now?
- His solicitor.

- The firm?
- Cranston and James.

To whom would they deliver it?

Commander Pearson,
head of counterintelligence.

- And he in turn gives it...
- To the Prime Minister.

I see.

- Is Mackintosh dead?
- Yes.

5:00 this evening,
before I left the Artina.

- Well, you've had it, Wheeler.
- To a degree.

When I told Cox to wait for you
and bring you here,

I thought to have you and Mrs. Smith
disappear with Slade.

Vanish from the West, tonight,

and I'd go back to London.

But now it seems that
I shall have to go with Slade,

instead of you and Mrs. Smith.

It's a relief, in a way.

At least I won't have to play
the pompous ass any longer.

I can be myself for a change.

I can say and do what I believe.

Perhaps it's for the best.

Kill him, Rearden!

We're all in the same game, Rearden.
We're all expendable.

But killing won't solve our differences.

They'll continue long after we're dead.

We could make a realistic agreement now.

Such as?

Well, we could lay down our arms
and go our separate ways in peace.

Slade and I could walk out of that door,
go to our new lives,

and you and Mrs. Smith
could do the same.

Or would you rather be the good soldier,
kill and be killed?

Unquestioningly obedient, Rearden.

No personal choice.

Let's break the rules tonight, eh?
Just this once.

Our deaths would mean little
or nothing to anyone, anywhere.

Only to ourselves.

Traitors!

Oh, dear! The voice of fear and anger.
The fanatic in our midst.

Rearden, I've a pretty good idea
of how your mind works

from our chess games together.

I'm going to take a chance.

Will you kill me now?

I did what I believed in.

Are you going to punish me for that?

Can you pull the trigger? I think not.

This is a standoff, Rearden.

So far as you and Mrs. Smith
are concerned,

this is no more than a minor setback.

Compare that with what I'm losing.

So, please, don't imagine that I'd settle
for spending the rest of my life in jail.

I'd rather you shot me.

Prison, Rearden.
You've had a taste of that.

The stakes are still high.

Wheeler, play out the hand.

Good luck.

Wheeler died trying to get Slade.

That's how Mackintosh
would have wanted it.

You were going to let them get away.

I should have killed you, too.