Original subtitles

The new low-calorie, high-energy soft drink.

Take advantage now of the special introductory offer...

presently being made by your friendly neighborhood grocer.

This week only, an eight-bottle carton will be on sale...

for the price of our regular six-pack.

- The show started. - I told you we should have come earlier.

Tonight, Joe White will have as his guest...

on this provocative hour of conversation...

an American Nazi.

A man who's claimed to have spent last weekend in a flying saucer.

And a young lady who's remarkably successful first novel...

has created a storm of controversy.

That's what I like about Joe.

He comes to grips with the burning issues of our times.

And now, ladies and gentlemen, here he is.

The one, the only, Joe White.

Thank you.

Our first guest tonight, Miss Jacqueline Midcult...

the schoolteacher who wrote the dirty book.

I beg your pardon. My book is not dirty.

Tell me, how did a girl of your tender years...

presumably delicate upbringing, write a book like this?

Mr. White!

How did a man of your obvious breeding, and kindly appearance...

ever get to be so un... Unbearably rude?

Chalk one up for her.

I'm asking the questions, Miss Midcult.

Well, your questions are leading, Mr. White.

- There's nothing here. - She must have taken them with her.

- But she's scheduled to die in... - Four minutes.

- What can we do? - Nothing.

Except watch.

All right, so with this novel of yours, and I use the term loosely.

Isn't it just a... A thin deception for naked obscenity?

- It is not obscene, my book is... - Pieces of Fate, right?

Yes, Pieces of Fate.

It's a spy story about... About people under stress.

Come on now, what we're talking about here is just dirt.

Blatant, outright filth, isn't it?

It is not, it's... It's...

What I try to do is portray real people, in real situations...

Real people? Oh, come on, now.

Everybody knows that real secret agents

don't get involved in this kind of intrigue.

In this kind of sex.

Everybody knows we don't get mixed up in things like that.

Sure they do.

Oh, wait a moment. This gentleman on the docket wants to ask you a question.

Yes, sir?

What I wanna say to this lady is this:

Vanished.

Now that's the way to get a rating.

Chapter one of Jacqueline Midcult's novel, gentlemen.

In which a deadly band of villains known as Killjoy...

prepare to seed the trade winds with anthrax germs.

And in 1962...

Thrush Central's top maneuver is scotched by ourselves. To wit?

The destruction of Thrush's floating laboratory in the Indian Ocean...

from which they planned to seed the trade winds with anthrax.

Chapter two of the Pieces of Fate.

In which Killjoy's head assassin, the Spider...

is killed by the sexy female spy, May Waltzer...

and thrown into the heart of Mount Vesuvius.

And in 1965, our top female operative, April Dancer...

encounters the Thrush killer, Adam Locust.

And disposed of him on the slopes of Mount Etna.

Our computer section has compared this alleged novel, gentlemen...

with our closed case files.

The similarities run to a staggering 88 percent.

So the conclusion is that Jacqueline Midcult's novel...

is based on actual instance involving Thrush and ourselves.

- Has she had access to our files? - No.

Well, then the only other source would have to be the missing diaries...

of the late Thrush historian, Charles Coltrane.

Exactly.

Somehow Miss Midcult found those diaries.

And presumably, they contain information about future Thrush plans.

Hence their interest in the young lady.

And ours, Mr. Kuryakin.

Well, it seems quite simple, all you have to do is to find Ms. Midcult...

and, uh, get her to tell you where the missing diaries are.

- Oh, you hadn't heard? - Heard what?

Miss Midcult was grazed by the assassin's bullet.

Struck her head when she fell.

She has partial amnesia.

Hm.

The diaries were kept by a man named Coltrane.

And when Thrush became aware of his, uh, hobby...

they were afraid that he might blackmail them...

so they had him killed.

Oh, that's terrible.

Yeah, and they never did find the diaries.

And for some reason, uh, somehow, you did.

And you used at least part of one of the stories...

as the background for your novel.

- I still don't remember. - You don't remember writing the book?

No.

Oh, but I read it this morning. It's pretty good don't you think?

Yes, I would say it's evoking some interest.

- You know the part I like best? - Mm-mm.

- Oh, could you open this please? - Mm-hm.

I like the part where the schoolteacher goes back to visit her relatives...

and all those things happen to her.

You know, I have a feeling I wrote that out of my own experience.

- Really? - Mm. Thank you.

You don't remember the name of the town now.

- Wilmo, Illinois. - No, no, no, that's the fictional town.

Uh, the real town. Can't you recall that?

Mm...

Mm-mm.

- Sorry. - Yeah. Ah. Uh-huh.

All right, I tell you...

- we'll try later, okay? - All right.

- Okay, goodbye. - Bye-bye.

I had no way of knowing, Mr. Zark.

The U.N.C.L.E. agents came out of the audience.

It's true, I didn't kill her but...

When I was 13 years old, I made my first genuinely original decision.

I killed a playmate because he wouldn't trade me...

two bubblegum cards to complete my collection.

But, sir, you don't know where the diaries are.

You wanna keep her alive now.

So I didn't really fail, did I?

- Did I? ZARK: It was a small thing at the time.

A Sopwith triplane.

A Spad XIII.

But it did teach me that there are two kinds of people in this world, Spinard.

Fifteen years of slavishly loyal service to Thrush, sir.

Yes, two kinds of people:

Those with bubblegum cards, and those without.

You notice I deal in allegory and subtle distinction, Spinard.

But my conclusions are obvious.

There's a mess in here I'd like cleaned up.

And, uh, call Ms. Merle, tell her I'm on my way over.

Ha, ha. That's right.

That's right, my review will be printed Wednesday.

I'm sure, darling, that by Thursday, that author will be back to selling neckties.

Ha, ha. Bye.

Have Mr. Zark come in.

Hello there.

Good afternoon, they told me you were coming.

You, um, usually work in bed?

Only in the daytime.

Into whose unsuspecting back are you plunging your little stiletto this time?

Ha, ha. Some inconsequential little man, who fancies himself a poet.

He's not worth mentioning really.

Tell me, are you enjoying your first day as a Thrush employee?

- It's not much of a change. - Oh?

Ellipsis Zark, 14 years, top agent of Thrush.

Holder of three medals for meritorious service.

Judith Merle, world-famous critic.

Literateur, book reviewer, confidante of authors.

We employ different means...

but we're both equally skilled as assassins.

- You ready for your first assignment? - Oh, ready and eager.

Excellent, madam.

I want you to arrange a literary cocktail party for Jacqueline Midcult.

Hm.

The U.N.C.L.E. agents have her now. How do you know they'll let her come?

Oh, they won't be able to stop her.

There's no more vain creature in the world...

than one with its name on the cover of a cheap book.

Now, once more. Uh, you have no recollection of the town at all?

Wilmo, Illinois?

No, no, no, I mean the real-life counterpart.

Oh.

All right, let's try a different tactic.

You have no recollection of your parents either?

- No other relatives? - I'm sorry.

Uh...

- What about...? - Mr. Solo?

- Napoleon. - Napoleon.

Uh, how long are you gonna keep me cooped up in here?

- Well, Miss Midcult, you see... - Jacqueline.

- Jacqueline. - Jacqueline, okay.

It's for your own protection, you see...

Come in.

Good morning.

- A letter for you at the desk. - Oh, for me?

- Anything? - I just spoke with headquarters.

Intelligence has pinpointed Miss Midcult's whereabouts...

ever since she came out of college.

Hm. Well, that's promising.

Except for a five-month period last year, when she posted the manuscript.

Well, doesn't the publisher have any idea where she posted it from?

Well, one of the mail clerks seem to think it had an Ohio postmark.

Oh, I... SOLO: What is it?

I'm invited to a literary cocktail party. What am I gonna wear?

I've never been invited to a literary cocktail party and it's for me.

Uh, Jacqueline, I'm afraid you can't go to this.

Why not?

- Napoleon, could I have a word with you? - Okay.

Wait a minute.

I think we should let her go. It might awaken old memories.

No, it's too dangerous. You can bet that if she goes, Thrush will be there.

That might help us.

They're bound to be further on in their pursuit of the diaries than we are.

Jacqueline, you can go to the cocktail party on one condition.

What's that?

That you have two escorts.

Well, I heard she was a schoolteacher in Indianapolis.

So I said to him, I said:

"What do you mean that serious problem...

about the death of a carrier pigeon wouldn't sell?"

I'm so pleased you came early.

Most novelists like to assert their individuality by coming late.

I'm Napoleon Solo, I'm Ms. Midcult's new literary agent.

- And this is my associate, Mr. Kuryakin. - Judith Merle.

Judith, yes, I've read your reviews. Very incisive.

A synonym for incisive is nasty, but thank you, in any case, Mr. Solo.

Jacqueline, don't you remember me?

Judith? I gave you that rave review in the Morning Standard?

Uh, Ms. Merle...

Ms. Midcult has partial amnesia due to the unpleasantness of the Joe White show.

It's not permanent, but, uh, you understand.

Oh, what a terrible thing. I'm dreadfully sorry.

Oh, thank you.

Poor darling, why don't you all go in and mingle?

I'll join you in a moment.

U.N.C.L.E. agents, probably two of them.

We'll have to get her away from them. But she mustn't be hurt.

Can I have a drink?

You can have a rap in the mouth if you don't shape up.

Darling, you simply must come and meet Rahj Singh...

the psychedelic poet.

Basically, I think Camus is a fraud.

Now I'll tell you why I think he's a fraud.

His problem was he liked to lecture people.

There's one thing you can't do, you can't lecture people.

I'll tell you why you can't lecture people...

because when you do, you assert your will on theirs...

I've got a gun in your back.

Has he got a gun in my back?

- He has a gun in your back. - Out.

Ow!

Get her to the car. Use the service elevator.

Take her to Zark.

Ms. Merle said to get rid of you. I'll show her I ain't an idiot.

Gee, you'll like it down there. Dark.

Maybe today, or maybe tomorrow...

comes down about 10 tons of nice, black coal.

Bye-bye.

Oh, this ludicrous pretext of amnesia simply won't work, Ms. Midcult.

We here at Thrush find it offensive when our intelligence is insulted.

But it's true.

And I suppose Solo and Kuryakin really were your literary agents?

Huh?

Has Obelisk reported in yet?

The U.N.C.L.E. men had been put out of the way permanently.

So you see, Ms. Midcult...

obfuscation and dissembling will avail you little.

All right, get me the hypo.

Well, we're not dead yet.

I'm overcome with awe at your grasp of the situation.

We could be dead though, very soon, if they drop that load of coal.

How did you get your gag off?

It's extraordinary how complicated even the most simple situations become.

I think it would be advisable to get out of here...

before they drop that load of coal on us.

What's the rush? It's the first... First solitude I've had in weeks.

Well, the rush is that...

I think if 10 tons of coal comes down on us, it's gonna muss up my hair a little.

It's unlikely.

All right, I'll go along with your little game. Why is it unlikely?

Well, if you listen carefully, you'll hear the sounds of an oil furnace.

This place doesn't use coal anymore.

Well, if it is amnesia, we have to break the block.

We have to probe deeply into her unconscious.

We have to plumb her libido, draw out her id.

Jacqueline.

Yes?

Now you repeat after me.

I will tell the nice Mr. Ellipsis Zark everything.

Now, repeat after me.

I will tell the nice Mr...

- Ellipsis. JACQUELINE: Ellipsis Zark everything.

Good. JACQUELINE: Good.

Now only speak when you're spoken to.

Tell me, Jacqueline.

Did you write a novel called Pieces of Fate?

- No. - No?

Oh, but you wanna know something?

I wrote... I wrote a story about a day at the zoo.

And I colored it with my crayons.

In pink and blue.

Now, um, tell me your name.

Jacqueline Susie-Q Midcult, and I'm 7 years old.

- Good heavens, we've gone too far. - She thinks she's a child.

She is a child. Personality regression.

I'm 7 years old. And you know what?

Next summer, I get to go visit with my Uncle Charlie.

And my Auntie Jessica in a big old house...

in Mainsville, Ohio.

Ohio. She has relatives in Mainsville, Ohio.

And the manuscript came from Ohio.

Then the diaries might be there.

And when the drugs wear off, she'll take us right to them.

Now, hopefully she'll remember.

Then we'll tear the town apart.

This little old piggy went, "wee, wee, wee" all the way home.

It was very clever of you to bug her earring.

It may save our jobs.

Mr. Waverly isn't going to be happy about our losing her in the first place.

- Well, I won't tell if you don't tell. - Yeah.

Well, let's just save her, comedian.

Humor is the gadfly on the corpse of tragedy.

- Pushkin? - My grandmother.

Beeps are getting closer.

They're bringing her this way.

Here they come.

- Are you all right? - Where's Mommy?

I want my mommy. Mama, I want Mama.

- I don't wanna take a pill. - Come on now, take it.

- No, no. - Come on, take it.

You take it, and then you can have this.

Promise? SOLO: Scout's honor.

Do you think it'll work, sir?

Our medical people assure me it will.

We can't say when her memory will return.

But she won't be a 7-year-old much longer.

Oh, thank you.

- Here are your tickets for Ohio. - No!

And gentlemen, please don't lose her this time.

We'll do our best, sir.

But I don't want to go to Ohio. People keep tying me up.

Well, nobody's gonna tie you up, sweetheart.

We're gonna see your Uncle Charlie and your Aunt Jessie.

- In Mainsville? - In Mainsville.

Oh! I wanna go now. Come on, come on, I wanna go now.

If she doesn't come back from being a 7-year-old, we'll never find the diaries.

Look on the bright side.

With a mentality like that, she could really write a bestseller.

Where am I?

Don't you remember? You're on a train nearing Mainsville, Ohio.

Mainsville, Ohio?

Oh, I remember you. You're the two U.N.C.L.E. agents.

You're Napoleon and you're Mr. Kuryakin.

Do you remember Mainsville?

Mm. Dimly.

That's where I wrote the book.

Right. With the aid of certain diaries.

Do you remember where those diaries are?

Mm.

Come on, now. Try, think hard.

It's no use.

Do you remember your Uncle Charlie and Aunt Jessie?

My Uncle Charlie and Aunt Jessie?

- That's right. - No.

Well, she's not 7 years old anymore.

- We're right back where we started. - Well, a little more than that.

She does remember Mainsville.

I have a hunch it'll come back fast now.

We would like to leave this somewhere till we get settled.

Oh, you bet you.

Nice little town you got here. - Mm-hm.

Tell you, we're looking for a fellow named Charlie and his wife Jessie.

- Does that ring any bells with you? - Nope.

- But I'm new around here. - Oh.

Just moved in from Cincinnati. - Oh, yeah.

There's no Midcult listed.

Must be an uncle on your mother's side.

- The bookstore. - I beg your pardon?

I remember the bookstore.

Don't ask me why, but the name's Buck's.

- Buck's. - Buck's?

Oh, Buck's. Yeah, that's right across the town square. I know that much.

All right, good, good. Let's try it, thank you.

Oh, your stubs. Here are your stubs.

Thank you.

Where did you come from?

They're on their way to the bookstore. You know what to do?

It's really creepy.

I remember Mainsville, or some of it. And I know I wrote the book here.

But it's like I'm seeing it all through a fog.

I just can't remember everything.

Well, after that crack on the head and what Zark did to you...

it's lucky you have a mind at all.

Um, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to prowl around a bit.

Where are you going?

If Thrush knows about this place, they're here.

I'll see if I can divert some of the attention from you.

Oh, you plenty smart guy.

He's nice.

- Oh, he's all right. - Ha, ha.

Oh, Miss Midcult. Oh, ho, ho.

Welcome to my shop, welcome to Mainsville.

Now you have a very nice place here, Mr. Buck.

- Oh, thank you, Mr...? - Solo. I'm Miss Midcult's literary agent.

Oh, Mr. Solo, you are a fortunate man indeed...

to work with this delightful young lady...

whose book has become the scintillance of tomorrow's wonder.

The what? Oh, the scin...

Oh, of course, yes.

Oh, that's very kind of you, Mr. Buck.

Do you know that we have sold 16 copies here in Mainsville?

- Right here in this store. - Mm. Remarkable.

Yes, it is, Mr. Solo. Veritably.

Would you like some jasmine tea?

Uh, I'd love some, Mr. Buck. I'd just love some.

Please, do call me Oedipus.

- Please sit down. - Oedipus. Ha.

- Bring anything back? - I remember the store.

I think I spent a lot of time writing the book here.

- And Buck? - Oh, I think he's cute.

That's lovely, but you think we can trust him?

- We're going to need an ally. - Oh, I think so, he's a little bird.

Mr., uh... Mr. Buck...

can we trust you with some privileged information?

- Trust? - Mm-hm.

I am the silence that infests the grave.

I am the hush to be found at the bottom of the Cayman Trench.

I am the sealed lippedness of the eternal...

Right. Got it.

Now here's the problem.

There are some diaries that Jacqueline used for notes...

when she was working on her book.

There were 10 of them in brown leather bindings.

Hey, I remembered.

Now, these diaries are vastly important.

You see, there's a plagiarism suit pending in New York.

And we need to use them as evidence.

Yes, even the dullest eye could perceive to ascertain their necessity.

Why don't you get them?

Uh... I misplaced them.

Well, I don't know where they are.

We know that, Mr. Buck. We were hoping that you could help us find them.

Well, did you ask Miss Midcult's uncle and aunt at the house?

Well, as you may have guessed...

uh, Ms. Midcult has suffered a partial loss of memory.

I don't even remember my own relative's address.

Charlie and Jessie?

Oh, my poor child.

Well, they live at 312 Pine Street.

312 Pine. Thank you.

- But you haven't touched your tea. - Perhaps some other time, Mr. Buck.

- Thank you very much. - Oh, pleased, to be sure.

Come back, I'm so looking forward to seeing all of you again.

Looking for something?

If you'll raise your hands, Mr. Kuryakin.

Aah!

I'd have killed him if you hadn't interfered.

They would have heard the shot.

Excuse me, Ms. Merle, but I think it's better to keep him alive.

If his partner should learn too much, we have a hostage.

You may be right.

I'll hide him away. My car's right around the corner.

But I haven't seen you before.

I just came in this morning. I'm with reserve unit X-14.

Very good. Remind me to put in a word with your unit commander.

Thank you.

- Wuthering Heights. - Hey, I remember.

That's where I wrote my book.

And I remember Uncle Charlie and Aunt Jessie.

Ah, go on.

Oh, it's really coming back fast now.

Last summer, I was pretty, uh... Pretty disillusioned.

It was right after a whole flock of rejection slips.

And I came back here to rest up and sort of take stock, you know?

It was the first time I'd come back here to visit my aunt and uncle...

since I've been 7 years old.

And I wasn't gonna write a word.

And then I found those diaries.

You found them here?

Yeah, they were in a big trunk.

Uncle Charlie said he bought them from the railroad.

At one of those unclaimed baggage, luggage sales or something.

Jackie.

Uncle Charlie. - Hey.

- Jackie. - Oh, Uncle Charlie.

It's so good to be here. And it's so good to see you.

You still smell like that old nasty pipe tobacco.

You just passing by, or are you gonna stay for a spell?

Oh, we'd like to stay around for a spell, if it's okay?

Okay, I'll fix up a room for you right now.

Oh, where's Aunt Jessie?

Oh, uh, she's fine, she's not here now.

She... She had to go to a funeral in Akron.

Oh.

Oh, uh, Uncle Charlie this is Napoleon Solo.

A very, very, dear friend of mine.

Uh, he's with my, uh, publisher.

And he's gonna stay with me during the promotional campaign.

- Glad to have you around, Mr. Solo. - Hi.

It's nice to have some news from the big city.

You've got a friendly town here, and a lovely home.

It ain't much but we call it our, uh, blue heaven.

Heaven, Mr. Solo.

Or possibly hell.

Open Channel D. Scramble, please.

Channel D, open and scrambled. Go ahead, Napoleon.

Have you heard from Illya?

Not since your last regular check-in. Has something happened?

No, uh, maybe not. I'm not sure yet.

Put me through to Mr. Waverly.

I can't, he isn't here.

He hasn't been for the last two days. Some special assignment.

- Is it important? - No, forget it, Channel D out.

Mr. Solo, soup's on. - Thank you.

Be right down.

Nice young fellow, Jackie.

- Got any cuddling ideas about him? - Oh, Uncle Charlie.

Well, now, sweetheart, you're more than old enough to have a husband.

Yes, sir, I gotta have a talk with that Mr. Solo...

about his intentions with you, young missy.

- Good evening. - Good evening, Mr. Solo.

I ain't as good a cook as my better half but I hope it ain't too bad.

Oh, I'm sure it would be a gourmet's delight.

Uh, tell me, Mr. Solo. You're in the publishing world.

Have we really, honest-to-goodness got us a best-selling authoress on our hands here?

Well, Jacqueline's book Pieces of Fate has gone into six editions in three months.

Now, that's 250,000 copies in hardcover.

I would say that we have a runaway winner.

And I'm sure the sequel will be even better.

Sequel?

Hasn't Jacqueline told...? Of course not.

How could she? We've been so busy getting reacquainted.

Napoleon's just being kind, Uncle Charlie.

You're gonna be starting it soon, Jackie?

- Mm. As soon as I get some notes together. - Notes?

I've got some notebooks filled with ideas...

Jackie, let's not talk about it right now. Shall we...?

Why don't you just sit, relax, and get a little taste of hospitality and home?

Try to escape, young man.

It's not supposed to be this easy.

This is where I wrote the book.

Is this where you kept the diaries?

Yes, at first, but then I put them somewhere.

Do you, uh, remember where?

Oh, I'm sorry, Napoleon.

I'm really sorry.

But everything's coming back so quickly now, I'm sure I'll remember.

- Solo here. - Uh, good evening, Napoleon.

Did anything of consequence happen while I was gone?

Where have you been?

Well, it's a long story and an embarrassing one.

Among the other things, I was, uh...

overpowered by an old man with a cane.

- An old man? - Yeah, with a cane.

And when things like that happen I wonder if I'm not in the wrong business.

Are you all right now?

Yes, and eager to atone for my misadventures.

Good, I'm at Uncle Charlie's place. That's 312 Pine.

I suggest that you get right over here...

and sneak in and help us try to find the diaries.

All right.

Now there's an intelligent way of going about this.

There are only so many rooms in this house.

That means that...

- Did you forget something? - I beg your pardon.

Oh, Wanda. I'm sorry. Uh, what's new?

Well, we ran that make on Uncle Charlie.

- What make? - The one you asked for.

- I didn't ask for any make. - Well, somebody did.

Anyway, here it is.

Uh, full name, Charles Coltrane.

He was a member of Thrush for 28 years.

Supposedly killed three years ago.

His dossier was in the closed file.

You're certain the make is absolute?

We ran it through two computers. No doubt at all.

Thank you.

Jackie?

The diaries, they were your uncle's.

He's with Thrush.

Hi, Mr. Solo. Do you know anything about automobile engines?

Yeah, a little. Uh...

You know anything about Thrush?

Uh...

I don't know what you're talking about.

Forget it, Charlie. I know all about you.

I just thought you might want to fill me in on some of the details.

All right.

When I escaped from Thrush, I came back here.

I lived here all along, you know. They never knew anything about it.

- About your double life? - That's right.

When did they find out?

The other day, when they sent their people in.

They would have killed me then, but I...

I guess they wanted to keep everything normal to Jacqueline.

You do put on a pretty good show for your niece.

Uncle Charlie, small town bumpkin.

So warm, lovable. Gemütlichkeit.

I... I had to act like that.

They're watching me. They've got the house bugged.

- One wrong move on my part... - Goodbye, Charlie.

It's not me I'm worried about, Mr. Solo.

It's not me at all.

Well, who are you?

Jessie Coltrane. Who are you, boy?

My name is Illya Kuryakin. I'm a friend of Jacqueline.

Well, it's about time you legged it in here, boy.

I've been trussed up in this basement for days.

Who put you down here?

That man, that woman.

What man?

The man with the hand.

We better get upstairs, as quick...

Shh.

Don't make a noise.

- Come in. - Napoleon, it's me.

Napoleon, I remember everything. I remember where I left the diaries.

Shh, shh, shh.

They're in the attic, at least they were.

All right, let's go.

Where were you when I needed you?

Come on, we have to get upstairs.

Well, to coin a phrase, Mr. Zark, "We meet again."

It's been too long, Mr. Solo.

- Not since that affair in Tannu-Tuva, huh? - Right.

Stop it, Mr. Solo.

Desist this very instant.

You've, uh... You've met Mr. Buck, I assume.

Well, Mr. Solo, I'm afraid you're checked.

He's unchecked now, Mr. Zark.

- Aunt Jessie. - Oh, Jacqueline, my child.

Thank heaven you're all right.

It's about time you got here, what took you so long?

One of these days, I'm going to leave you on your own.

Just to see how you manage.

Well, into each life, a little rain must fall.

Yes, Mr. Solo.

But are you prepared for a deluge?

I'm sorry, Miss Merle.

I've always enjoyed your book reviews.

We're very grateful, sir. But, uh, what are you doing here?

I gave myself a special assignment, Mr. Solo.

I couldn't run the risk of another mistake, like losing Miss Midcult the first time.

But how did you get into our infiltration group?

I, uh, infiltrated.

Where are the diaries?

Diaries?

Yes, Aunt Jessie, the diaries Uncle Charlie wrote.

- There were 10 of them. - That filth?

I found them up here. Weren't fit to be in a decent home.

Where are they?

I burned them.

Aunt Jessie says she's forgiven him for everything.

Oh, yes, thank you.

And they really like living in Florida.

Well, uh, in view of Thrush's continuing interest in Charlie...

I trust they're living under assumed names.

Oh, yes. They won't even allow me to tell you what they are.

I hate to interrupt this happy scene, but I wish to register a complaint.

Was it necessary for you to hit me quite so hard with your cane?

Oh, yes. I'm sorry about that, Mr. Kuryakin.

But, uh, well, I did have to gain their confidence, didn't I?

Of course, but I still have the lump.

And on balance, I think things have turned out very well.

With our new method of atomic adhesion...

we can restore the ashes of the diaries.

May take us a couple of months in all but we can do it.

Word has already gotten out on that, sir, and Thrush...

has cancelled all operations referred to in the book.

Oh, speaking of books, Miss Midcult.

I hope your experiences of the last few days haven't dampened your literary zeal.

Oh, no, I've already started a new book.

It's gonna be another bestseller.

- Is it? - Uh-huh.

It's about a schoolteacher who finds a set of diaries.

And she gets mixed up with a couple of secret agents.

And she gets amnesia.

And they take her to...