Original subtitles

Oh, yes. Oh, yes, yes...

It happened. She just twisted the head off and walked away.

No offense, Napoleon...

but she probably thought the dummy was you.

That's not funny. It's true.

After you had put two full clips of bullets into her?

Seems reasonable. She did it in a fit of pique.

Goodbye.

Come in, gentlemen.

How do you feel, Mr. Solo?

Oh, I feel fine, sir, thank you.

Yes, I thought you'd say that.

Mr. Kuryakin...

we've managed to secure a copy of Thrush's current financial report.

Care to examine it?

Total assets:

$1,654,420,749.

I think we can dispense with the tone of naked greed, Mr. Kuryakin.

Sorry, sir.

Point is that Thrush is attempting to borrow a substantial sum of money...

from the Swiss Fiduciary Bank.

But why?

They would appear to be quite solvent.

More so than we are, I daresay.

I'm quite sure they're able to support their normal activities with ease.

It would follow that this particular enterprise...

is, well, hardly a normal one.

And so they go outside for financing behind a dummy front?

Of course.

Happily, our Zurich branch was quite alert.

Then I'll be leaving for Switzerland?

No.

Whatever their project is, it seems to originate here in the United States.

Swiss Bank is sending an appraiser to gauge solvency as collateral on the loan.

What will be my cover?

You, Mr. Kuryakin, will be the vice president of the local branch.

You'll try to look like a banker?

Wait.

I thought that was my assignment.

Originally, yes.

Now Mr. Kuryakin will have to be briefed to take over for you.

Oh, what am I to do, uh...?

Rest, Mr. Solo. You've been working much too hard.

This latest episode only confirms a preliminary diagnosis...

the medical section has had on you for some time.

The medic...?

Uh, sir, I was attacked.

Yes, of course.

By a woman with the ability to tear apart a steel cage...

who was just about to kill you when she suddenly turned around and walked away.

Well, don't worry about not getting the correspondence...

from the pawn-shop safe, Napoleon.

Our Zurich section managed to get the information at their end.

Look, everybody here seems to think that for some reason, I'm...

Now, uh, the Triptych Section has set up reservations for you...

at a spa in the Grand Bahamas.

Just think, Napoleon. All those lovely women waiting to give you a massage.

Lots of rest, peace of mind and body.

I don't need any rest, I don't need any peace of mind, I...

Mr. Kuryakin, will you help Mr. Solo pack a few necessities?

Yes, sir.

That's good, Andy, now hold it.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Now make it look like Mata Hari.

Okay, Andy, make this real good, huh?

Now, the client's gonna love this one.

Look, look real irresistible, you know?

Hey, Muriel, Muriel, Muriel.

Hey, where are you going?

Hey, what are you doing? Cut. For crying out loud, you're not through yet.

That was my ex-roommate. She ran out on three months' rent...

and left me with a big phone bill.

Dr. Pertwee.

Dr. Pertwee.

Oh, Mr. Lash, and Margo.

How very nice to, uh, um...

How are you? What's new? Uh...

Have you seen my, uh, um...?

Dr. Pertwee, I understand your Model A-77 is still wandering the streets.

Uh-huh, yes.

Um, er, Dr. Zohmer there, you see, he programmed the model...

to protect the safe in that, um, pawn shop.

Then something happened to confuse the relays.

So it's probably still looking for that, uh, um, intruder.

You have made a serious error.

It was a very hurried job.

Margo, I think you'd better call Disposal.

But, Mr. Lash, I have been a loyal Thrush employee.

I have worked on this project for three years.

This is my first mistake.

How unfortunate you won't be able to use us as a reference...

on your next position.

Mr. Lash, Dr. Pertwee.

I, uh... I've made a mistake. This is my first mistake.

Don't do this, please. It's my first mistake.

- No, no! - What are you going to do with him?

Uh, we have a pension plan.

He'll be well taken care of.

Oh, I'm so glad.

I was afraid you were going to, um, fire the poor man.

Thrush is a very progressive organization.

We don't fire our employees.

Now, Dr. Pertwee, what are you going to do?

We can't have the A-77 wandering about New York fully primed.

Well, uh, as I've already told you...

I think I've already told you.

Yes, of course, I've already told you.

Doctor, we cannot afford to have our working model fall into enemy hands.

Precisely what can you do, Pertwee?

Well, it might take me a little time, but, uh, I can cut in the self-destruct.

Now, that will stop the model, and then, uh...

Don't worry, Napoleon, just think about all those Nordic women...

waiting to, uh, massage your poor tired body.

You'll return as good as new.

I'm as good as new now.

I admit I'd enjoy having a few Nordic women...

massage my poor tired body occasionally.

But not...

Illya.

Illya!

It's no use, Illya. It won't do any good.

I think the bullets did some good after all.

No, it wasn't the bullets.

There were some holes in her clothing, but not a single shell entered her body.

They must have bounced off.

- Uh, what else did you discover? - Well...

For openers, this cupcake hasn't got an appendix.

Well, what's the big deal? I don't have one either.

Well, not only has she no appendix, but she has no spleen, no liver...

no kidneys, no larynx, no salivary glands.

And in case this hasn't reached you sufficiently...

she only has two-thirds of her brain.

But that doesn't really matter, because the other two lobes...

are composed chiefly of colloid plastics and permeable animal matter...

liberally seeded with printed circuits, electrodes...

ceramic breakers, and various other odds and ends...

you might find among the paper clips of your desk drawer.

That's a robot?

Mm-mm. Not by any means.

A living creature with artificial parts.

A composite, something Burke and Hare might have gathered in graveyards...

if this were Edinburgh, 18th century. Heh, heh.

A sort of do-it-yourself dreadful.

And, uh, as an added attraction...

- this incredibly... - Oh!

This unbelievably gorgeous face.

Oh, poor Muriel.

Well, I don't know what the proper thing to do is in a case like this...

but, uh, I suggest you arrange a decent funeral for her.

Come, my dear.

It's too much.

I'm afraid we'll have to ask you a few questions, Miss Francis.

Oh, yes, of course.

As for you, Mr. Solo, it would seem you are neither delusionary nor overworked.

Well, since my sanity is no longer in question...

I'll be off to the spa.

Cease the flummery, Mr. Solo.

You're formally back on this affair.

Miss Francis, could you tell us a little more about that, uh...?

The unfortunate young lady we've just left?

Well, I lived with her for two years, and her name was...

Is. Was, I guess.

Anyway, her name was Muriel Bollinger.

And she just ran off about three months ago...

and left me with a whale of a phone bill.

I mean, I don't even know anyone in Cleveland, Ohio.

And I never even heard of Weeki Wachee Springs, Florida.

- I mean, it was almost a $200 bill... - Yes, yes, yes, quite, quite.

Mr. Kuryakin, take Miss Francis with you. Follow up this affair.

In some curious way, it seems to be tied in with Mr. Solo's assignment.

Try to look like a banker.

Herr Toeffler?

Solo?

I was supposed you have been contacted by Mr. Zwingli.

Yes, well, he was indisposed. I was sent in his place.

May I see your credentials, please?

Of course.

Your credentials are acceptable, but your arrangements are not.

Our contact person was to meet us here precisely at noon, Mr. Solo.

It is now seven after.

Punctuality is the blood and gristle of our business.

- Sorry. - Oh, Mr. Toeffler?

Oh, Mr. Toeffler, how do you do?

I'm Margo Hayward, I was sent to meet you.

Miss Hayward, this is Mr. Solo of our American branch.

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

Would you care to join me? Our car is waiting to take us to the plant.

Why, I'd be delighted to. Mr. Solo?

Certainly.

All right, Distil, you may seal up.

What is this? What's going on?

Security measures, Mr. Toeffler.

Are you sure this is the place?

Muriel would rather go out on a Saturday night with her hair in rollers...

than miss an appointment with her fortune teller.

And she never came back?

No, that's the last I saw her, until...

- Until this morning... - Ooh.

Have I got a heartburn you wouldn't believe.

Madame Hecubah?

The past, the present, the future.

I know the truth frontwards, backwards and heretofore.

Sit down.

We're looking for a friend of ours. Been missing for quite a while.

- She was last seen in... - What is this, a bust?

I'm clean.

I told that creep to take his hot radio parts...

and sell them to Waldo down the next block.

You can put your mind at ease.

- We're not from the police. - Honest.

This ain't a shuck?

- Mm-mm. - No.

That will be a finif, 5 bucks.

- What? - I'm telling you the past, ain't I?

Now, she's leaving here, see, and I hears this screech of a truck.

I goes to look.

She must have stepped right out in front of the thing...

because, ooh, it bounced her good.

- She was killed? - No, uh-uh.

I guess not. An ambulance came and got her.

That would've been reported to you, wouldn't it, Andy?

- Not if she didn't have no ID. - How did you know she didn't?

Just a guess.

You appropriated her purse, didn't you?

This is a very precarious living, reading the stars and stuff.

What hospital, you old shrike?

Eh...

I'm a fortune teller. I'm not supposed to be reliable.

Terribly sorry, gentlemen, but I must subject you...

to still another inconvenience.

Oh, this is intolerable, mademoiselle.

In the car for four hours without an idea where we're going, and now this.

I'm certain Miss Hayward has her reasons, Mr. Toeffler.

Why, Mr. Solo is very perceptive.

Our project head, Mr. Lash.

The most profuse apologies for the melodramatics, gentlemen.

Please be seated.

You see, what we have here is a ripe plum.

Mm, well, just what is this new project, Mr. Lash?

My firm intends to free human beings from ever again having to work...

on a production line.

I gather you have developed some new assembly-line principle.

On the contrary, Mr. Toeffler.

It's a completely new concept of automation.

The use of, uh, shall we say, artificial humans.

Artificial humans?

But if I had known this...

There is nothing of the crackpot about this concept, Mr. Toeffler.

We've been in experiment with our Model A-77 for almost two years.

The results have been compiled in a brief...

which I'm sure you'll find most enlightening.

Call Denise.

The matter seems a little more complicated than we had anticipated.

What you're after, then, is not funds for further experimentation?

Exactly, Mr. Solo.

The experimentation is virtually concluded.

My company wishes to start production immediately.

Uh, precisely what amount are you seeking from my bank?

A billion dollars, Mr. Toeffler.

A mere billion dollars.

Something wrong, Mr. Solo?

Ahem, no, no, no, I...

I just sometimes get unnerved when I see pretty ladies.

A billion dollars?

You can do this? Artificial people?

Not only production-line personnel, Mr. Toeffler...

but maids, gardeners, street cleaners.

Just think of the potential.

Inexpensive and indestructible.

Slaves that would simply be programmed to do your bidding.

Think. The day of Aladdin's lamp is upon us.

A brilliant conception.

Man could at last be a creature of true leisure.

But they could also be made to serve as, say, soldiers?

Hmm, no, no, no, we must remain strictly neutral.

We'd never consent to that use for our A-77s.

Hmm, but they could be reprogrammed, couldn't they?

Well, of course, that's possible, but who would be so imprudent as to do it?

The thought is ridiculous.

Hundreds of thousands of walking slaves...

indestructible, armed, and marching, marching, marching...

sweeping everything before them.

Taking a country in 29 days.

Invincible.

Not bullets nor bombs nor tanks could stop them.

Mindless, soulless soldiers of an army so vast...

would blacken the land with its marching, marching, marching.

Of course, we only wish to serve mankind.

What a marvelous conception.

But of course, uh, only commercial uses could be considered in this loan.

And we are neutral...

Ahh, how can we be certain that this project is far enough advanced...

to guarantee a loan of this size?

But of course, you need a demonstration.

Denise?

The bar, please.

Hydrofluoric acid, gentlemen.

Please, drink their health, Denise.

Oh, no, no, no, dear me.

What response from Mr. Solo?

Message reads, "Cat's in the bucket, bucket's in the well."

We received that just before he entered the Thrush limousine...

then all transmission went dead.

Have we been able to triangulate a location of any kind?

They have it jammed completely, sir.

Nothing from any of our stations?

South America? Europe? Nothing?

Wherever their base is, sir, they've damped it effectively.

They could be anywhere.

What was that message again?

"Cat's in the bucket, bucket's in the well."

Well, well, well.

Now, gentlemen, I'll show you the inner heart of our project.

You're a spendthrift, Dr. Pertwee.

I am, uh, um, um, a genius.

Now stop annoying me.

I was hired to cut down on these ridiculous expenditures.

I am not annoying you.

It says very little for the efficiency of your operation.

Ninety-seven percent of our project is within three decimal places...

of top-point efficiency.

What of the remaining three percent?

Oh, Mr. Lash.

Oop. Ha, ha.

Hello, I'm Pertwee.

Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Pertwee. Are you all right?

- All right? - Yes.

Oh, yes, it certainly is.

- Nice meeting you. Goodbye. - Uh-huh.

That is the head of the project?

He is a genius.

Anybody home?

Kind of eerie.

Why would the hospital send Muriel here?

Well, they said it was at the request of one of their pathologists...

a, uh, "Dr. Ansel Pertwee."

This is his private clinic.

But the whole thing smells very fishy to me.

Well, you know, I feel like one of the

all-time great finks of the western world...

worrying about a phone bill.

And poor Muriel.

And I was beginning to wonder if there was anything behind that, uh...

pretty face.

Well, being a symbol of the consumer culture, I...

I sometimes forget to be a human being.

Good afternoon, this is Dr. Pertwee's office.

As, um, a matter of fact, this is Dr. Pertwee speaking.

I am out right now.

But if you will, uh, recite your message into your telephone...

it will be recorded.

Please, uh, uh, wait for a beep tone, and then begin to speak.

You know, I've always...

You better call U.N.C.L.E.

I can't. The line's busy.

This is the supply room.

We use that area to store our replacement parts.

I would like to see the Accounting Department.

- Ow. - My pleasure.

- Is something the matter, Mr. Solo? - Uh, yeah, I got a pebble in my shoe.

Will you excuse me for a moment?

- Of course. - Unh.

Open Channel D.

Control, this is Sheep's Clothing.

Come in, Control.

Open Channel D.

Jammed.

How about Channel F? Is there anything new on Channel F?

Not much, what's new with you?

Illya, is that you? What are you doing on Channel F?

Don't be presumptuous. You called me.

Where are you?

I'm tied up right now.

I get the feeling you're not telling me everything.

Well, Miss Francis and I were detained by the Thrush welcome wagon.

Ah, you've been captured.

It's amazing how you grasp the picture with such unerring clarity.

Well, I'm all jammed up here.

I can't get through to Waverly, but I can get to you.

We must be inside the same jamming umbrella.

For all I know, we might be under the same roof.

What's it look like where you are?

Frankly, it looks like a slow, unpleasant end to an outstanding career.

Well, I'd like to help you out, but I've got problems of my own right now.

Can you get out of wherever you are, get through to Waverly?

Nothing would please me better.

All right, keep in touch.

And thank your mother for the chicken soup.

- Z? - Solo, there you are.

What took you so long?

Well, it was a bigger, uh, pebble than I thought.

Did I miss anything?

Well, actually, nothing.

Mr. Lash had something to attend to...

and Mr. Toeffler's in the Accounting Department.

- Ah. - But I'm all yours.

Oh, that's more than I can hope for.

Uh, tell me something. Uh, this gizmo here, what is it?

Well, these multiple-phase selectors...

pick the most advantageous combinations of malleable factors...

working on a thermocouple principle of analogue differentiation.

- Ah. - On a one-to-one variant, of course.

Of course, naturally.

Side errors in chromosome translation are warped through that bank...

of digital analyzers over there.

Same retention index as in a simple log-log desatrig duplex slide.

That's what I like about you, Ms. Hayward. A women of system.

Business-like, orderly, disciplined.

A keen sharp mind in a soft voluptuous body.

Why, Mr. Solo, I thought bankers only dealt with one kind of figure.

Hmm. How little you know, my dear.

Excuse me, this needs some adjustment.

If you'll, uh, forgive me, that correction you just made is a trifle off.

It should've been to the 40th power instead of the fourth...

if you'll forgive my impertinence.

Why, you're right.

Ah, Mr. Solo, you're right, I made a miscalc.

Well, that's my first in many years.

You're taking my mind off my work.

By looking at it dispassionately, do you suppose it could possibly be...

because I'm attracted to you?

I think that's just possible, and if that is the case...

I want you to know that the feeling is mutual.

- Mr. Solo. - Hmm?

You see, I work in a very lonely and restricted field.

Mm-hm.

- Romance is not common with us. - Mm-hm.

My relations with men are strictly business.

Well, would that ours could be a little more than that?

Oh, Mr. Solo.

- Call me Nappy. - Heh.

How did you come to join Thrush?

How could you possibly have known that? There's no way you could've known.

Margo, I have aspirations also.

Do you think I wanna be a white-collar worker all my life?

An appraiser for foreign banks, a toady for totalers?

I want more than that.

I've been watching, waiting for something big.

A large rock to help me across the bigger pond.

You've known all along this was a Thrush operation?

Yes, and I've always wanted to join Thrush.

Now that I met you, I can't wait any longer.

Oh, Napoleon Solo, you want to join Thrush?

- Yes. - Unh.

I understand.

But what can you offer Thrush, Mr. Solo?

Mm, initially, I can perhaps help convince Toeffler...

to grant you a loan.

- Ah. - He respects my opinion.

He need not ever know that this project is for an invincible army...

of tacked-together soldiers.

Subject to a thorough check of your past, Mr. Solo...

let me welcome you to Thrush.

Now if you'll just to Mr. Toeffler.

My pleasure.

What do you think they're gonna do with us?

That's their problem.

Our problem is to get out of this little mousetrap.

Heh, heh. Don't be silly, we're completely helpless.

I was beginning to think you hadn't noticed.

If only I had something I could use.

I've got a gun.

- You do? - Mm-hm, it's in my pocket.

Then give it to me.

All right, you two.

Open the gate, or I'll spatter you all over the walls.

Are you crazy? That's just a prop, it's just a toy gun.

Come on, we haven't got all day.

It's not supposed to be this easy.

You've made a financially brilliant decision, Mr. Toeffler.

Well, I must confess, I had my reservations until Mr. Solo spoke to me.

I suggest you get Mr. Toeffler to a telephone.

Have him advise his bank to get that money to you before he changes his mind.

Yeah. LASH: Ha-ha-ha.

Well, unfortunately, we have only one way of communicating from this location.

By wireless. We'll have to take Mr. Toeffler up to the communicating room.

Uh, perhaps I could speak to Zurich for you, hmm?

Excellent. Mr. Lash and I can discuss his specific terms while you tend to it.

Take Mr. Solo up to the tower, unjam the frequency.

Will you excuse me for a moment? There's something I must see to.

Of course.

Find them.

I don't care if they're dead or alive, but find those two.

Don't move or I'll have to kill you.

I knew Mr. Lash was unhappy with me.

But sending, uh, assassins to kill me is in very poor taste.

I beg your pardon, sir, but we're not assassins.

- Who are you? - Dr. Ansel Pertwee.

Muriel. He's the one who killed Muriel.

Muriel? Killed Mu...?

No, no, honestly.

She was quite dead when they brought her in to me.

I only used her face because it was such a lovely face.

So right for my base model.

Oh.

And what did you expect to achieve with your creation?

Good. Nothing but good things.

I wanted to free men from the...

The drudgery of the assembly line, give them back their souls.

I don't know how much you know about Thrush, doctor...

but they're not in the habit of giving men back their souls.

Well, what else would they want to do?

Turn your models into assassins, doctor.

- No. - Instruments of war.

What a pity that history will label Dr. Ansel Pertwee...

as the man who streamlined slaughter.

No.

Not "no," doctor, the word is "yes."

What can I do?

You know where the jamming controls are.

You can start by helping us get a message out of here.

Okay.

- Okay. - Okay.

Hmm.

Well, that looks like, uh...

Manhattan. It is.

I see.

All round the mulberry bush, right back where you started.

Right again.

And would you unjam, uh, for Zurich so I can make my call?

Now, just give them the message.

They'll relay it through Thrush Central.

All right.

Let me write this down so I have it right when you get transmission started.

All right, go ahead.

Recognition code is as follows:

"William Tell's tale is told.

Toeffler approves $1 billion loan...

final negotiations under way at this moment."

Uh, "You may begin preparations for the underwriting of funds.

Signed, Toeffler and Napoleon Solo."

Are you finished?

- You better go. - Oh.

Not yet. No, no, I'm not quite finished.

Impetuous boy.

I know, but I can't contain myself any longer.

You see, I have a bright blue flame that's burning for you.

Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.

Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.

- Wait. - Wait for what, Napoleon?

Huh? What?

Yeah, yeah.

Signal frequency from Mr. Solo, sir.

Can you triangulate?

If the channel stays unjammed long enough.

How do I love thee?

Let me count the ways.

No Computations now, please, Napoleon. Ha, ha.

He used the same miserable line on me.

Triangulation, Miss Townsend, not alienation of affections.

Sorry, sir.

Mm.

Your eyes are like two black Babylonian pearls.

And your smile...

is like the smile of a sphinx.

Beast.

Miss Townsend, feed that through the computer, not out here.

Hmm? MARGO: Feel...

- tingly all over. - Mm.

Drink to me only with thine...

Mr. Solo, what are you doing here?

Sorry to intrude, but this is an emergency.

Where is the jamming control?

You beast, you're from U.N.C.L.E.

Mr. Lash, Mr. Lash, I made a terrible mistake.

- Everybody on the bed. - Why?

Don't question it, just do it.

After them!

What's going on? Oh, no.

Mr. Lash, Mr. Lash, you promised. Please, I beg of you.

The channel went dead, but we had a fix, Mr. Waverly.

Where are they?

New York. They're six blocks from here.

Solo, what are you doing here?

Neutral. We must remain neutral.

- Ugh. - Stop.

Solo, I'm neutral.

Mr. Lash... LASH: Unh.

Oh, oh, I can't stand it. Oh.

What's going on? No.

I got them where I want them, caught in the lab.

Seal all doors. Clear the corridors.

Go on, go on.

I'm turning loose the A-77s.

And they're not programmed to distinguish between friend or foe.

I forgot to ask, where did you come from, hmm?

I came up from the bargain basement.

The name of the game, friends, is Unhinge the U.N.C.L.E. Man.

Come on.

Illya, get him.

He's controlling them from up there.

What are you doing up there?

Illya! Illya!

It's no use, Napoleon. I can't stop them.

Illya, the door!

Can't you do something, doctor? They're your inventions.

I'll try. Outside.

Look here, Solo, I'm strictly neutral.

Oh, no.

Oh...

Oh, I... I can't stand it. Look.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Unh.

I see we lost him.

Like Dr. Frankenstein, the victim of his own creation.

Well, gentlemen.

It seems you've been able to settle matters by yourselves once again.

I don't know who you are, sir...

but I wish to lodge a most emphatic protest.

Oh, you're Mr. Toeffler, I take it.

Oh, my apologies, Mr. Toeffler.

But I assure you that any discomfort you may have suffered...

was in a truly noble cause.

As for you, Mr. Solo, it was very ingenious...

the way you managed to keep the channel open.

But, uh, if the circumstances should ever arise again...

may I suggest that you play your love scenes with a bit less ardor.

Has a very disconcerting effect on our female employees.

Get somebody to clean up that mess.

Okay, Andy, yeah, yeah, that's good.

Okay, now, yeah, look towards. That's it.

Okay, Andy, make this real good, huh?

Look... Look real irresistible, you know, so if any man sees you...

he'll... He'll just grab you.

Yeah, that's it.