All language subtitles for MrSWr6E01.Appointment.in.Athens.

I most emphatically am not married,

which, at the moment, happens to be the heart of my problem.

I'm not Mrs. Reardon.

Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

They'll kill him, after torturing him.

What is money when the life of a loved one

hangs in the balance?

Get out. Now!

The exchange is set for tomorrow. 1300 hours.

To a marriage that's clearly in deep trouble.

You mean to say he's brought

an American civilian in on the operation?

I have been tricked,

lied to, pumped for information.

Freeze!

Oh, that's marvelous, Pamela. That's ruddy marvelous.

You've totally mucked things up.

Yes, of course I'm sympathetic,

assuming that it really is your appendix and not some--

Liar? Did I call you a liar?

Fine.

You needn't shout.

There's nothing wrong with the damn connection!

Pamela, I'm sorry.

I said, I'm sorry.

I apologize for having misjudged you.

I hope it all goes well.

Give my best to your surgeon, whoever he may be.

Ciao.

Yes?

Oh, London? Put him through.

Alfie, boyo, what've you got?

Nothing yet?

No, no, no problem. Tomorrow'll be fine.

Yeah, cable me in Athens at the Hotel Grande Bretagne,

in the name of Mr. And Mrs. Michael Reardon.

R-e-a--

No, no, no, you silly twit,

I most emphatically am not married,

which, at the moment,

happens to be the heart of my problem.

It was delightful having you with us

once again, Madame Fletcher.

Thank you, Monsieur LeBon. I wish it were more often.

Jessica?

- Jessica! I can't believe it. - Michael, for heaven's sakes!

Are you... are you just arriving?

I'm just leaving.

You mean to tell me that you've been staying

right here in this hotel?

For the past 24 hours. Just a short stopover.

I'm here on--ahem-- business.

Don't tell me. I don't want to know.

Well, I couldn't if I wanted to.

It's very hush-hush.

And you? You're on vacation?

Well, not exactly.

It's an international book tour.

I don't know how I got talked into it.

Well, I know how. Because you're a soft touch.

People take advantage of you.

Well, you should know.

Madame Fletcher, pardon.

I have just heard from the airport.

Your flight to Cairo is delayed at least eight hours.

Oh, dear.

Not to worry. You're coming with me.

What?

Yeah, I have a flight to Athens that leaves in an hour.

You can take a connecting flight

to Cairo from there.

Oh, Michael, I don't know. It can't be that simple.

But of course it is. Our luggage.

This is really wonderful, you know.

It'll give us a couple of hours to catch up on things.

Michael -Oh, come on now.

Where's that adventurous Jessica Fletcher

I know and adore?

Well, she was last seen in a San Francisco jail,

the gullible victim of a certain

MI6 agent's flimflam.

Ah, Jessica darling,

if you only knew how often

I've regretted that little episode.

Now you tell me!

And on Friday, I'll catch up with you in Cairo,

and we'll drive South to The Valley of the Kings.

Oh, that sounds like fun.

But if you're too busy, please don't feel--

No, nonsense.

By the weekend, I'll be as free as a bird, I promise.

Air Macedonia Flight 14 to Salonika now boarding...

a reservation for Mrs. J.B. Fletcher

on your 3:30 flight to Cairo.

Oh, Jess, you're in for a wonderful treat.

I'm sorry, but we have no reservation

for a Mrs. Fletcher.

- Oh, dear. - That can't be.

And the flight is fully booked.

Yes, but--

However, we do have another flight

tomorrow afternoon.

Well, I'm afraid that doesn't help very much.

Is there another airline

that has a flight to Cairo this afternoon?

I'm sorry. They, too, are booked.

Oh, dear. Michael--

Michael?

Excuse me, aren't you J.B. Fletcher?

- Well, yes, I-- - Oh, how delightful.

Yeah, I thought I recognized you

from your dust jacket.

I'm so sorry.

What seems to be the trouble, Mrs. Fletcher?

Well, I seem to have lost someone.

Someone who has a habit of getting himself lost

at the oddest times.

Oh, do forgive my manners.

- Harold Baines. - Oh.

"Global Omnionics Limited"?

Yes, it's just one of those boring

multinational conglomerates in which nobody's quite certain

what the company actually does.

- I see. - So what can I do to help?

Well, I'm not really sure.

You see, my friend has vanished,

along with my airline reservation,

and it looks as if I'm stranded here in Athens

for the next 24 hours.

Oh, how dreadful.

Listen, my car's just outside.

Why don't you let me drive you to your hotel?

- I don't have one. - Oh, dear.

Yes, and I'm afraid there isn't a single first-class room

available in all of Athens just now.

International trade fair, you know.

"Oh, dear" is right!

Oh, I know! Got it. Of course.

Yes, our corporation maintains a very lovely two-bedroom,

a sort of courtesy suite, at the Hotel Grande Bretagne.

Now, please, Mrs. Fletcher,

do me the honor of accepting our hospitality.

Oh, well, that is terribly

kind of you, Mr. Baines, but I--

No, no, no, dear lady, not to worry.

I will tell the airline people where you can be reached,

and the moment we arrive at the hotel,

I'll notify the police of your friend's disappearance.

Done and done?

Yes? Yes? Marvelous.

Well, here we are.

I don't know Cabot Cove.

I don't even know Maine, actually.

It's quite north, isn't it? Lots of snow?

Now and then.

Oh, let me have your passport, Jessica.

I'll take care of your registration.

Well, thank you, Harold. You're really very kind.

Oh, rubbish.

Yes? Oh.

I do hope everything's satisfactory.

Oh, yes, it's lovely, Harold.

Have you spoken to the police?

Beg pardon.

Compliments of the management, Mrs. Reardon.

Mrs. Reardon? Oh, there must be some mistake.

- Thank you very much. - Oh, thank you, Sir.

Do let me take that for you.

Mrs. Reardon?

Would that by any chance be Mrs. Michael Reardon, would it?

Is that the name that he's using this week?

Well, actually, yes.

Ah. Which means that you, Mr. Baines,

must be an MI6 agent in sheep's clothing?

Michael said you might be upset.

Yes, Michael was right.

And the reservation to Cairo--never made?

I'm afraid not, no.

But it is true to say

that there are no rooms available here in Athens.

Well, isn't it nice

that you don't have to lie about everything?

Where is he?

I haven't the foggiest.

As I was approaching you at the airport,

two men were converging on him.

Men who clearly meant him harm.

I suspect Michael thought so too,

which explains why he left rather quickly.

But I really shouldn't worry.

Michael is quite adept at looking after himself.

Oh, he is that.

Mrs. Fletcher, I admit that Michael does have

a penchant for highhandedness,

but I do hope you'll continue to pose as Mrs. Reardon,

at least until Michael's out of harm's way.

Be assured, Mr. Baines,

that I will do everything in my power

to help ensure his safe return.

So that I can get my hands on him.

Good day.

Of course I know it's confidential.

Why else would I be here? Now, tell me, Dutchman,

what exactly am I paying for?

Patience, Mr. Popadopalous, Patience.

I have the information you have been waiting for.

Mr. and Mrs. Reardon arrived in Athens

on the 2 o'clock flight from Paris.

They are occupying suite 324 at the Hotel Grande Bretagne.

And is that all of it?

When I know more, I will tell you more.

And when you tell me more,

I will pay you more.

Now, listen to me carefully.

I want to know all of their movements.

Understand?

I am here to serve, my friend.

Olympus Gems. Alec Scofield here.

Ah, Mr. Stuyvesant. What a pleasant surprise.

I haven't heard from you for at least 48 hours.

I assume you are aware, Colonel,

that a Mr. And Mrs. Reardon are occupying

a certain suite at the Hotel Grande Bretagne.

Perhaps I am mistaken.

It was my impression your organization

was taking no part in this particular transaction.

Get to the point.

What you may not know

is that the Reardons are expected

to attend a party this evening

at the home of one Dimitri Popadopalous.

Really?

Tell me, Dutchman, how much might it cost to secure

an invitation to Mr. Popadopalous' party?

Very well.

Come by later and pick up your money.

Well, at least the old thief didn't try to sell me

the news of Michael's arrival.

What about the woman with him?

An American author. Potboilers.

People being murdered in locked rooms.

All that sort of thing.

I can't believe it.

He's running an independent show

on my patch.

Damnit, he knows full well the prime minister's position

on dealing with terrorists.

Yes. Colonel, when Michael asked me to pitch in,

I rather suspected it might have something to do

with Laddie Fairchild's kidnapping,

but I swear I never believed for a moment

that he'd do anything outside of regulations.

Rubbish.

That's the only way that Michael Haggarty operates.

Now, what's his plan?

Well, I--I am not privy to his entire scheme, Sir.

Not as yet.

But it would appear to require that he have a bogus wife.

You mean to say he's brought an American civilian

in on the operation?

My God, the man must have gone mad.

Yes.

In his defense, Colonel, Michael does seem convinced

that the kidnappers are just that:

garden-variety hoodlums

rather than terrorists or gunrunners.

Baines, I want you to stay on this like fog on Tower Bridge.

I expect to be informed of every breath the man takes.

Mrs. Reardon?

- Oh. - Excuse me.

Henryk Stuyvesant at your service, madam.

Please forgive me. I did not wish to startle you.

Oh, no. No, I--

I just didn't realize that anyone knew that I was here.

- May I? - Oh, please.

A great pity about Mr. Fairchild.

Fairchild?

Oh, yes. Yes, it is.

I am curious, Mrs. Reardon.

Would you know when the transaction

will be taking place?

Transaction?

I...

I really can't tell you about that, Mr. Stuyvesant.

Perhaps you could at least inform me of the location.

No, no, no, I... I really can't say.

I see.

The other party in the transaction--

Oh, dear, the name's on the tip of my tongue.

Madam,

people pay me for information.

Oh, yes. Yes, of course.

I came here, Mrs. Reardon,

because of my great compassion for Laddie Fairchild.

I am only sorry that you cannot share my trust.

Jessica, be a dear and give me a hand.

And you'd better get a move on,

or we'll be late for the party.

Party? What party?

Michael, what happened? Where have you been?

Who is Henryk Stuyvesant? Who is Laddie Fairchild?

- And--And--And all the-- - Easy, girl. Easy, girl.

Those are all fine questions, and I'm gonna answer them all,

but at the moment, time is running short.

Yes, along with my patience.

And if you think that I am going out

with you this evening,

you are very much mistaken.

Never mind that I have been tricked, lied to,

pumped for information.

I have been worried sick about you.

Ah, that's my girl.

Although, I can't imagine why,

since you systematically deceived me

from the moment that we bumped into each other in Paris.

For the record, Paris was an accident.

Wonderful.

And those men at the Athens airport?

Well, I didn't want them to see us together,

for fear of putting your life at risk.

Oh.

Well, that was considerate of you, I must say.

It certainly was.

It's probably Baines.

Yes?

Hello. Is Michael about?

I'm Pamela Reardon, his wife.

Darling, I felt absolutely horrid

about winkling out on you.

Really, I did.

How's your appendix?

Oh, thank God it was nothing more than a touch of gastritis.

Nothing more than a bloody audition, you mean.

Michael, be a dear and try to understand.

Obviously, you didn't get the job.

Anyhow, I caught the very first flight

out of Heathrow, and here I am.

Seems my timing's a bit off, though.

Mrs. Reardon?

Not if I can help it.

Pam Drake. You sound American.

Is that real, or are you putting it on?

Oh, it's real, all right. And I'm not an actress.

Now, Michael--

Jessica, you and I are due at a party.

Miss Drake and I will take this up when we return.

Oh, now, just a moment.

If Miss Drake is here, you certainly don't need me.

Ah, that's where you're wrong, my girl.

There's Stuyvesant and some of the hotel staff.

Too many people already know you

as Mrs. Reardon.

Look, I don't blame you for feeling the way you do.

But please consider that a man's life is at stake.

A very good man.

Laddie Fairchild?

Yes, Mr. Stuyvesant mentioned his name.

But, Michael, why didn't--

Maintain our little act for a few more hours,

until I make the final arrangements for his release.

I'll explain in full on the way.

I'll go and get dressed.

Good girl.

And as for you, Pamela, darling...

Save it, Michael.

I've been up for 36 hours, so while you and your missus

are off kicking up your heels,

I'll be having a little sleep on your sofa.

We'll chat when you get back.

And so Laddie Fairchild was operating

this travel agency as a front

to enable him to catch these weapons importers.

- You mean arms smugglers? - Exactly.

But before he could close the trap,

he was grabbed by a band of kidnappers,

who have no idea that he's MI6.

They've asked for one million pounds ransom by tomorrow.

- No police involvement. - I see.

If the gunrunners learn that Laddie's a hostage

and grab him from the kidnappers,

which is only a matter of time, they'll kill him,

after torturing him for what he knows.

And except for Mr. Baines,

you're doing this entirely on your own?

When Colonel Scofield, our Athens station chief,

refused to help, I took it all the way up

- To number 10, Downing Street. - And?

"I'm terribly sorry,"

"Mr. Haggarty, truly I am,"

"but we here in the British Empire"

"do not bargain with thugs and terrorists."

Well, I was desperate.

I met with the kidnappers in Paris,

passed myself off as Michael Reardon,

Laddie's brother-in-law.

I told them Laddie's a disinherited

playboy ne'er-do-well,

and I insisted I had no money, either.

You know what they said?

"Find it by morning, or we kill him."

And what did you tell them?

I tried to stall them to buy time.

I told them I could get the money,

but it was all in my wife's name.

Oh, of course; and enter the wealthy Mrs. Reardon.

They gave me 72 hours. That's 1:00 p.m. tomorrow.

Now, what about our host?

Yes. Dimitri Popadopalous. He's the middleman.

He simply wants to meet you, so he can vouch

for our credibility to the kidnappers.

All you have to do is be your charming self.

Yes, it's very lovely, my dear,

but obscenely and unnecessarily expensive.

Oh, for God's sake, drop it, Alec.

I think I deserve a few rewards

for being forced to live this far from Harrods.

Alec.

What the hell are you doing here?

Keeping track of you, dear boy.

We are, after all, ostensibly on the same side.

You must be Mrs. Fletcher, the author.

Alec Scofield. My wife, Madge.

Oh, how do you do?

How nice to see you on top of things, Alec.

For a change.

Your activities, my dear Michael,

always rate my highest priority.

I hope you'll have the decency of playing along,

for Laddie's sake.

Mr. Reardon, I doubt I shall ever forgive you...

for failing to tell me how lovely your wife is.

- Oh! Well, I-- - Come, my dear.

You must tell me about yourself.

And I shall settle for nothing less than everything.

My--My father was in lumber.

And your mother?

Descended from an English Baronet.

Lovely.

Lovely.

I warn you, Michael,

if you persist in this little adventure,

regardless of the results,

I shall personally, and with immense pleasure,

preside over your long-deserved

demise as an agent of the Crown.

Age hasn't done much to improve your sense of humanity,

has it, Alec?

In our profession,

that often proves to be a liability.

Mrs. Scofield.

Damn it, Madge, you know my hands are tied.

They usually are.

Forgive me if I'm less than touched

by your concern for Mr. Fairchild.

Pity.

I'd assumed that we'd closed the door

on that little episode ages ago.

You must forgive my impulsiveness,

but since your stay in Athens is to be a short one--

Mr. Popadopalous, I am a married woman.

That, my dear, is one of your more sparkling assets.

One can easily observe

your marriage is in serious trouble.

Oh?

Whatever gave you that impression?

I couldn't help notice a certain lack of intimacy

between you and your husband.

I have trained myself to spot these things.

Well, yes, well,

we have been squabbling lately.

Yes.

I have a keen instinct for a woman's longings,

her loneliness, her hungers.

There you are, darling!

I was afraid you might have spirited my bride off

on a cruise to Mykonos.

Would that it were so.

Dimitri, I presume that

you've made the final arrangements

with the kidnappers.

Not quite yet, Mr. Reardon.

I have been waiting until I was satisfied

about certain details.

And?

I shall be communicating with them shortly.

What I will tell them is that at exactly 1200 hours tomorrow,

you and your wife will arrive

at the pay telephone at the Arch of Hadrian.

A caller will instruct you about your subsequent move.

You have my sincere admiration, Mrs. Reardon,

for the sacrifices you are making

for your brother.

Oh, I'm quite sure that he will be equally grateful

for your generosity, Mr. Popadopalous.

Madame, for £50,000, my generosity knows no limits.

Jessica, you were superb. He bought your entire act.

Why didn't you warn me?

Oh, well, he is rather harmless.

Come on, now, girl.

Let's grab a bite. I'm famished.

I'll give Dimitri this much:

he's living up to his notices for shrewdness,

keeping the time and the place of the exchange confidential

until the last moment.

Will that be a problem?

Michael, you leaving already?

What the hell is going on, Baines?

I thought you were on my side.

I am.

Well, then why is it that Alec Scofield

knows every move I make before I've made it?

Michael, I swear I didn't tell him

you'd be here tonight.

But you must appreciate my position.

If I weren't keeping him at least partially informed,

he'd surely suspect me, wouldn't he?

Yeah, you're right. Sorry, boyo.

Now, has there been any signal?

Not thus far, no.

But I'm monitoring the taps on Dimitri's telephones.

The moment they make contact, I'll inform you, all right?

Now I understand why Mr. Popadopalous' secrecy

won't be a problem.

Mother Reardon always said her little boy would marry

a woman of intelligence.

And a rich one, too, as I recall.

One of these days, Jessica, you and I are going to go

on a proper holiday together.

No company business for me, no writing for--

Pamela.

This is quite clearly the work of a jewel thief

who has been working

in the Piraeus-Athens area for the past 18 months.

Pardon me, Sergeant--

Mr. Reardon, there's one thing I'm very curious about.

- Sergeant Petrakis. - Yes?

You know, I'm not at all sure that theft was involved here.

Jewelry was taken.

In Greece, we regard this as theft.

Yes, but the jewelry that

the victim was wearing was fake.

I mean, a professional jewel thief

would have recognized that immediately.

Really?

Your perpetrator may have wanted you to think

that he was your jewel thief.

Very well, Madame.

Suppose we examine where such a theory,

questionable though it may be, will lead us?

Suppose we begin with you,

and your relationship with the other Mrs. Reardon?

- Oh, she wasn't my wife. - But I'm not Mrs. Reardon.

Am I to understand that neither of you

were or are Mrs. Reardon?

No, no, no, no. What I'm trying to say is

that the victim was the ex-Mrs. Reardon.

You see, we were divorced many years ago,

but the poor woman could never

give up the fantasy that we might one day remarry.

Oh, really? I'll take this.

It would appear from your statement, Mr. Reardon,

that you and the present Mrs. Reardon,

the live Mrs. Reardon,

would have more than a sufficient motive for murder.

I want you to fingerprint both of them

and take hair and fiber samples.

And please, do not attempt to leave Athens

in the next few days.

Pity. She was such a lovely woman.

How unfortunate she allowed herself

to be gulled by Michael.

The Colonel does not understand.

It was not the woman you met.

It was the second Mrs. Reardon

who fell victim to strangulation.

Haggarty has another one? Who was she?

Her passport was British.

It identified her as Mrs. Pamela Reardon.

I wonder how many others will turn up.

If one does, I assure you, my friend,

you will be the first to know.

Make sure that I am.

The Colonel is most generous.

By God, I do believe that

Michael's about to hang himself.

In a day or two, I shall have enough

to pass over to Whitehall.

How terribly righteous of you, Alec.

Of course, for Michael,

doing the decent thing has only required the courage

to place himself squarely on the cutting edge.

Rescuing Laddie isn't a threat to his bloody manhood.

- Jessica? - In here.

I couldn't find a Herald Tribune.

I know you can't read Greek,

so the best I could do was a week-old Wall Street Journal.

Toothpaste, shampoo,

aspirin bloody hell.

She was just an actress, that's all. Not one of us.

She didn't deserve that.

Michael, you can't blame yourself.

No? That could very easily have been you

lying on the floor in there.

Maybe I should pack it in, put you on a plane.

Oh, it's too late for that, and you know it.

- I'll be fine. Don't worry. - That's easier said than done.

Oh, by the way, where's my cablegram?

What cablegram?

The one the clerk said he gave to you.

He must be mistaken.

No, he said he gave a cablegram

earlier this afternoon to Mrs. Reardon.

Pamela.

She must--

Michael, Mrs. Fletcher,

I've just heard about Miss Drake.

It's dreadful. Dreadful.

- Anything I can do? - Yes.

You can give me some good news

about Dimitri and those bloody kidnappers.

They finalized the arrangements

20 minutes ago.

The exchange is set for tomorrow, 1300 hours,

in the gardens of the old palace.

Well, Mrs. Reardon, all that remains is for us

to get our hands on that million pounds,

and Laddie Fairchild is a free man.

Oh, Michael, that's wonderful.

I just hope there'll be no more surprises.

Actually, Jessica,

there is one more surprise.

- Empty? - Come now, Jessica.

Where was I going to be getting that kind of money?

Anyway, I don't believe in buying off bad guys

any more than Mrs. Thatcher does.

Start crumpling.

Not to worry, Jessica.

This phone call will merely tell us what we already know,

the time and place of the meeting.

Meanwhile, even as we speak,

my men are positioning themselves near the old palace

to insure we get Laddie out of there, money or no money.

Reardon.

What? Where?

I'm sorry, that's unaccep--

Michael, what is it?

The buggers.

They pulled a switch on us. They've moved the time up.

Now it's to take place at the Roman Market in 30 minutes.

Shouldn't you notify your people?

No time.

We'll be lucky if we can get there in half an hour.

Roman Market, driver, and step on it.

It's almost 4 o'clock.

This is a ruddy test, that's what it is.

They're checking us out.

Michael, look.

Dimitri, what are you doing here?

The briefcase, Mr. Reardon.

I demand to see its contents now.

Where the hell are Laddie Fairchild and the kidnappers?

They should have been here three hours ago.

Enough, Mr. Reardon.

I was foolish enough to believe

you and your wife could be trusted.

Clearly, I was mistaken.

You have compromised me, Mr. Reardon.

Just a damn minute, friend. I want to know who--

Sergeant Petrakis...

Mr. Popadopalous, I suggest you say nothing

until you have an attorney by your side.

An attorney?

Since when is it illegal to show one's friends

the wonders of his country?

We already have evidence

that you've been conspiring with known criminals,

along with murder suspects

who travel under false passports.

Look, there's a simple explanation--

An alert associate of mine

found this in a bookstore near the police headquarters,

Mrs. Reardon.

But why didn't the kidnappers show up?

And did they know that there was no money in the bag?

And were they watching us?

Because if they were, and they saw the police arrive,

Laddie Fairchild is--

Your passports.

I must tell you, Mrs. Fletcher, I'm extremely disappointed

that such an otherwise intelligent woman

would permit herself to be involved with a man

who sheds identities like a snake.

Now, just a minute.

I followed your movements because I believe

you're implicated in murder.

And frankly, I've heard nothing to convince me otherwise.

- Sergeant, I told you-- - You told me nothing!

Mr. Popadopalous told me nothing.

One thing has become very clear, though.

There is a lot more to this affair

than the death of one woman.

Excuse me, Sergeant,

but are you going to file charges?

Because if you are,

I would like to contact the American Embassy.

It won't be necessary.

For the moment,

I have insufficient evidence to hold either of you.

But I'm warning you.

When I get to the bottom of this,

and I assure you that I will,

I intend to see that all of you are prosecuted

to the fullest extent of the Greek law.

And that's all you got?

All right. Thanks, boyo.

Damn.

That was London.

They've traced the paper trail for the past month,

and it looks like we're on to Pamela's killer,

but it's just not conclusive.

Well, Jess, maybe we were both wrong.

Anyway, I'd best get myself in gear

if I want to get over to the old quarter

before closing time.

Michael, I don't believe that we are mistaken,

and I think I know a way to prove it.

While you're trying to free Laddie Fairchild,

let me put a plan of my own into action.

Right from the start, my wife said no tricks.

I should have listened to her.

One finds that difficult to quarrel with, Mr. Reardon.

Now, I can get the money first thing in the morning,

as soon as the banks open.

But in the meantime,

Mrs. Reardon and I are terrified that well,

that the kidnappers might just go ahead

and-- kill Mr. Fairchild.

A distinct possibility.

But why unburden yourself to me?

That was my wife's idea.

She said, "Mr. Stuyvesant may have a suggestion."

"He's a man of great influence and knowledge."

Mrs. Reardon is a wise woman.

It is possible I might be able

to get a word to the kidnappers.

Such a task, however, would require great delicacy.

Oh, yes. Yes, of course.

It would entail the fullest use of the trust

I have cultivated over the years.

And, naturally,

that service would cost a great deal of money.

What is money when the life

of a loved one hangs in the balance?

Yes, and it's to be delivered to Mr. Michael Reardon,

Hotel Grande Bretagne, Athens,

and at suite 326.

Thank you.

Yes?

Stuyvesant. I have valuable information.

Freeze, you bloody bastards!

Mr. Reardon.

Laddie, boyo, are you all right?

I am now, mate.

Sorry it took so long.

If I'd known the Dutchman's contacts were that good,

I'd have been here days ago.

- There you are, Mr. Baines. - Thank you, Niko.

I say, Niko, you wouldn't happen to know

if Mr. And Mrs. Reardon are in, would you?

They went out a short time ago, Mr. Baines.

Ah. Thank you.

Yes, hello. This is Michael Reardon in 326.

Could you please send the mail up to my room?

Oh, wait a minute.

I'm going to be taking a short nap,

so just have the boy slip it under the door, would you?

Thank you very much.

Kalo Sithikis, Mr. Baines.

Please place your hands behind your head.

Excuse me?

I think you must be making some kind of mistake.

Put your hands behind your head now.

I'm placing you under arrest

for the murder of Pamela Drake.

You're wrong, all of you.

I was simply going to read that cablegram

in order to pass the information

on to Colonel Scofield.

That is my job, after all.

Then why didn't you report the contents

of the first cablegram?

First cable? What first cable?

What are you talking about?

The one that arrived yesterday, Mr. Baines.

You remember, Harold.

It's the one that contained the information

I requested from Whitehall, linking you to the kidnappers.

The one you killed Pamela for.

This is insane.

She was murdered by a jewel thief.

So you'd have us believe.

But she was murdered for the cablegram.

You had to make sure that

what was in it never got to me,

and certainly not to Alec Scofield.

This is preposterous. I've got nothing to hide.

No, in the case of this cablegram,

you're quite correct, Mr. Baines.

There's absolutely nothing in it.

I talked to London today, Baines.

The first cable documented your travel

over the past four weeks, and placed you

where you could have been dealing with the kidnappers.

But there was no clear evidence against you.

There you are, Sergeant,

he admits it contains no proof of anything.

But, Mr. Baines, you tried to intercept the second cable.

- I explained that! - Not to my satisfaction.

Petrakis.

Then there's the matter of the gunrunners

that greeted me in the Athens airport.

I managed to convince one of them

to tell me how they knew when I was arriving.

It seems they had an informer

who told them about everyone's movements.

Laddie's, mine...

in any case, boyo,

not too many people knew about my comings and goings.

Except you, of course.

It was the scientific lab, Mrs. Fletcher.

They checked the jacket.

You were correct.

Correct? Correct about what?

Mr. Baines, you told us that you had never met Pamela Drake,

that you didn't know who she was.

I didn't. How could I?

But you had met her.

You struggled with her when you killed her.

Remember when we were leaving Mr. Popadopalous' house?

It must have been around 10 o'clock.

It didn't register at the time.

I thought it was probably cigarette ash,

but I noticed a smudge on your dinner jacket.

Only later I realized it had to have been lipstick smudge,

that distinctive color that Pamela Drake wore

when she arrived in Athens.

Mr. Baines, the laboratory confirms this.

What do you have to say?

I knew you suspected me, Michael.

I could read it in your eyes.

When you returned from your confrontation

with those gunrunners, I was downstairs in the lobby.

Just as you were getting into the elevator,

a delivery man arrived

with a cablegram for Michael Reardon.

I knew its contents concerned me.

I was about to retrieve it, when...

I'm Mrs. Reardon.

I believe my husband has already checked in.

I watched as he gave her the cablegram.

Thank you.

I was panicky. I didn't know what to do next.

And then, a little later,

I saw you both leave for Dimitri's party.

I thought, well, maybe my luck had held.

Maybe the cable hadn't been read.

So I let myself into your suite.

Hey!

Who are you?

Get out. Now!

I really had no choice.

And after all, Michael,

that is what they train us for, isn't it?

It was jealousy, plain and simple.

Baines had seniority,

but Laddie was about to be made station chief

when Scofield retired.

Now, Baines set up Laddie for the kidnapping,

knowing the Crown would never negotiate for his release.

A tragic situation.

Attention, please.

Royal British Flight 17 to London and New York

now boarding at Gate 4.

Well, that's my song they're playing.

I wish that you were coming back

to London with me.

I wish I was too.

But I promised Cairo I'll be there,

and be there I will.

Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention?

Due to mechanical difficulties, Air Levant Flight 3 to Cairo

will be delayed indefinitely.