All language subtitles for tinker.tailor.soldier.spy.s01e03.1080p.bluray.x264-surcode

Assume, Peter, the Circus
has the dogs on you 24 hours a day.

Think of it as a foreign country.

Hello, Bryant.

Hello. Nice to see you again, sir.
Just a moment, please.

Mr Guillam, sir.

Mr Lauder Strickland's expecting you.
He'll meet you on the 5th floor.

Right.

Thanks.

- About time someone oiled this.
- We keep asking.

You can talk till you're blue
in the face!

Well met, Peter. Greetings.
A trifle late, but never mind.

Sorry, Lauder. You have to make
allowances for country yokels.

- How long have you had that monster?
- You really are a stranger, aren't you?

It saves man hours. Fantastic.
Quite fantastic.

- Sorry, terribly sorry.
- Hello, Bill.

What the hell are YOU doing here,
you pariah?

He wants to buy a diplomatic courier.
He needs to wash some dirty money.

That's a job for Banking Section,
so we're sorting out the tangle.

He knows it has to be cleared here. He
told me the papers were routed to you.

- They're probably in your
in-tray now, Bill.
- They had better be, Peter.

Lock up the spoons. Scalphunters
will have the gold out of your teeth!

Lock up the girls, as well
...if they'll let you!

There you go, Bert. Keys of the city.

London Station couldn't be
in better hands.

Everything's a lot tighter here
these days, Guillam.

Hey, Lauder, hold on!

Have you seen bloody Bill anywhere?

Indeed I have seen Bill. We were having
a brief word back down the corridor.

- He's wanted urgently.
- Immediately. We've put out
an alert for him.

I suspect he may well be on his way
to you at this moment.

Peter...hello.

Hi.

Thanks for the glad hand.

I did wipe the cow dung off my boots.
What's the joke, Roy?

No joke, Peter, old lad. Just...
surprised to see you, that's all.

- We're used to having this floor
to ourselves.
- Like to see my pass, Toby?

- How are you keeping?
- I wintered very well.

You know what it's like in Brixton these
days. Plenty of Ludo, ping pong.

- Normally I have my afternoon zizz now.
- Off with you, Peter.

- Don't waste Lauder's time.
- No, sir. Sorry, sir.

Shut up, Flush! Stop it.

Stop it, boy. It's only a dunderhead.

Flush, shut up!

George Smiley!

Oh, but you lovely, darling man!

You haven't come to sell me a hoover!
You're my gorgeous George!

- Connie.
- Oh, George.

Jingle, darling, could you possibly
make it tomorrow? Don't be cross.

It isn't often my oldest, oldest lover
comes to see me.

Oh, George, if only I'd seen you first.

I'll give you a whole hour all to
yourself. Honestly I will, darling.

One of my dunderheads.

I will teach...

I don't know why.

Oh, George, of all the lovely,
darling men I ever knew.

He walked, Flush. Don't you see
his shoes?

Oh...bless you, darling.

God bless.

Did he walk alone, Flush?
Not accompanied, were we?

Quite alone, Connie.

So...what does George want from Connie?

The bad boy!

Her memory.

To go over some very old ground, Connie.

Hear that, Flush? First, they chuck
us out with an old bone, then they
come begging to us.

I was the best Head of Research
the Circus ever had! Everyone knew that!

And what did they say
the day they gave me the chop?

That personnel cow! "You're losing
your sense of proportion, Connie."

"Time you got out into the real world."

I hate the real world!

I like the Circus and my lovely boys!

Polyakov.
Aleksey Aleksandrovich Polyakov.

Cultural Attach�, Soviet Embassy,
London.

Born March 3rd, 1922...

in the Ukraine.

Graduate of Leningrad State University.

Height five-foot-ten.
Color of eyes, green.
Color of hair, black.

Married, but unaccompanied by wife,

and a six-cylinder Karla-trained
hood if ever I saw one!

But don't tell Percy Alleline
or Toby Esterhase.

Oh, no,

Aleksey Aleksandrovich
was as pure as the driven snow.

He was Persil white, wasn't he, Flush?
And Connie's an old silly.

If she doesn't lay off and do
as she's told, she'll have to pack
her bags and go.

He's come alive...Polyakov.
Just as you predicted.

'Course he has! Of course he has!

I knew it in my bones!

The day he arrived, I thought,
"Hello, I'll have some fun with YOU."
Tough as a button!

Cultural Attach�? Balls!

Army written all over him.

But not declared, George, not a mention.

Oh, he had a lovely voice.
Mellow, like yours.

I used to play the tapes
over and over just to bathe in it.

Bottom pincher, too. I just know.
Not that we ever caught him at it.

We might have if Tobe had played along
and offered him a bum,

but tiny Tobe wouldn't.

Eight years.

I watched Pretty Polly for eight years.

Then last Remembrance Day, I got him.

There he was, that smashing
November morning, at the wreath laying.

We photographed his medals...
two gallantry and four campaign.

Oh, yes. Aleks Polyakov was a
star soldier just as I'd told them,

and not a word.

So I said to Toby,
"Listen, you two-faced ferret,"

"ego has got the better part of cover
and that's nothing new."

"Now will you turn Pretty Polly
inside out for me?"

"Because Connie's little hunch
has turned up trumps."

What did Toby Esterhase say?

Oh, I got the dead-fish voice.

- "Tell Percy Alleline.
Percy's in charge."
- And then?

"Not every ex-warrior's a
Karla agent," says Percy.

I said, "Listen, Percy, Polyakov's
running an English mole."

So I get the rude letter.
"Stop it or else."

I wrote at the bottom...
"Yes, repeat no!"

So...here we are...

Flush and me.

Please kiss me, George.

Hey..ho. Halcyon days.

- Did I start the landslide, George?
- You were always dead right, Connie.

- Is George now picking up the pieces?
- Something of the sort.

Poor loves. Trained to Empire,
trained to rule the waves.

Englishmen could be proud then.
They could, George.

All gone.

Taken away.

Bye-bye, world.

If it's bad, George...

don't come back.

Promise?

I want to remember you just as you were.

My lovely, lovely boys.

Promise?

Alright, Lauder, I'll just have
to wait for the wheels to turn.

I don't need a pass to use
the gent's, do I?

Stop that moaning!

Pages had been removed with a
razor blade. No mention of Ricki Tarr's
cable from Lisbon.

No Irina, no Boris, no Tarr.

There's a note scribbled on
the next page. "All inquiries
to Head of London Station."

It's in Toby Esterhase's handwriting.

The janitor's attendance list
has also been removed.

Nothing to tell us who was
duty officer...or even who was
in the building.

Connie's appraisal
matches the story Irina gave Ricki Tarr.

The implications, the indications,

are that Karla has managed
to build himself a cadre

of senior men placed about the globe
who work exclusively to him at Moscow
Center.

- Polyakov is Karla's executant
in London
- You offer that as a working
hypothesis?

Operation Witchcraft,
that vital flow of Russian intelligence

which happily came Alleline's way.

"Supplementary estimates
to the Treasury."

"Special accommodation in London."?

"Wider exploitation."

"See also Secret Annex." May I see it?

- The Minister keeps it in his safe.
- Do you know the combination?

- Certainly not.
- What's the title of this unobtainable
document?

It doesn't have one. It's highly
secret and we've kept the readership
to a minimum.

The supplier of the Witchcraft
material is Merlin. Does the file
give his identity?

Don't be ridiculous. The Minister
wouldn't want to know and Alleline
wouldn't want to tell him.

- What does "wider exploitation" mean?
- I refuse to be interrogated.

Why do you waste your time
pursuing this? I should have you
cleared before you see this.

- Witchcraft cleared?
- Yes, George.

Do we have a list of people
who've been cleared in that way?

I hope you're not going fey, George.

Please, stick with the primary
problem...the mole Gerald...

instead of rootling around
in extraneous matters.

This is no time to be whimsical.

Are you off? You won't forget Prideaux?

Anything you can get on him,
even scraps, would help.

He has a point, George.

Witchcraft and Merlin,
Polyakov and the mole.

Prideaux getting himself shot up
on some wild goose chase of Control's
in Czechoslovakia.

- You think it all connects?
- I think I am not the first

to make this journey of exploration.

I believe Control was here before me.

He might even have made the full distance
but for the bullets in Prideaux's back.

"There are three of them and Alleline."
Control's words.

He meant Operation Witchcraft.

Merlin's minders or inventors

or programmers or marionettes
...or what?

Why was Control so hostile to Alleline?
Percy wasn't a fool.

Percy can flirt, Peter. And Control
hadn't reckoned on the power of
the Alleline lobby.

- Who were they?
- Golfers.

"Golfers and Conservatives."
That's what Control said to me.

I got a call from Control one day...
very sharp, very combative.

"George, come in here or
there'll be bloodshed."

Brother Percy's trying to twist my tail.

Take a look at this nonsense.

Top-level Soviet naval dispatch.

Specially prepared for the Soviet
High Command...

isn't it, Percy?

An appreciation of a naval exercise
in the Med and the Black Sea,

of which our sailors
have been screaming for details.

- Haven't they, Percy?
- Topicality's always suspect.

Yes, George.
Would you like to repeat that for Percy?

- Who made the translation?
- God made it, didn't he, Percy?

- Don't ask him. He won't tell you.
- Shore-to-sea strike power.

Radio activation of enemy
alert procedures. This is hardly
my territory.

Don't let that worry you. Total ignorance
of subject matter doesn't bother Percy.

- Whose initials are these?
- Zharov. Admiral, Black Sea Fleet.

- What do our own evaluators say?
- They've not seen it.

What's more, they're not going to.

However, Lilley of Naval Intelligence
has passed a preliminary opinion,

has he not, Percy?

Percy showed it to him last night.

- Over a pink gin, was it, Percy?
- At the Admiralty.

Note that, George. They battened down
the hatches for Percy.

Brother Lilley telephoned me
half an hour ago to congratulate me.

He believes this material to be neither
a plant nor chickenfeed, but gold dust,

and he seeks our permission to...
Percy's, I suppose I should say...

to apprise his fellow Sea Lords
of its conclusions.

Quite impossible. It's for his eyes only
for another couple of weeks.

- It's so hot, you see, George.
- But where does it come from?

- Who's the case officer?
- You'll enjoy this.

Source Merlin has access to the most
sensitive levels of Soviet policymaking.

We've dubbed his product Witchcraft.

Ask him who "we" are, George.

Merlin is the fruit of a long cultivation
by certain people in this service.

People who are bound to me
as I am to them.

People not entertained
by the failure rate about this place.

There's been too much blown,
too much lost, wasted.

Too many scandals. I've said
so many times.

I could've talked to the wind
for all the heed HE paid me.

"He" means me, George.

The ordinary principles of security
have gone to the wall in this service.

It's all divide and rule, stimulated
from the top.

- Me again.
- We're losing our livelihood,
our self-respect.

We've had enough.

We've had a bellyful, in fact. Please.

Like everybody's who's ever had enough,
he wants more.

"This service."

Alleline would sell his mother for
a knighthood and "this service" for
a seat in the Lords.

- Suppose Merlin's genuine?
- Suppose Merlin would pick Percy?!

It seems somebody has.

I gather Percy's under the impression
he picked himself and a whole team.

You're sure he left you out,
are you, George?

- What are you going to do about it?
- Depends on "it".

I'll wait for "it" to show itself.

In the meantime, I see nothing
to deal with except Percy's envious
eye on my chair.

And I've put my thumb
in that optic before.

- George, tittle-tattle Tuesday again?
- Hello, Percy.

Toby, Roy.

This time.

Oh, Lor'! I thought it would
be half over by now.

Got a rabbit to pull out
of your hat, Percy? You've got
that Britain-can-make-it look.

Very intimidating. Should we have
brought our sandwiches?

I'll be brief, Bill, so long as
I'm not obstructed.

I'm sorry. Traffic. I should've walked.

I think you and Percy between you are
contriving to keep me off the streets.

They're all here now, sir.
Would you go in, please, gentlemen?

How often do I have to emphasize
the extreme sensitivity

of the source of the Witchcraft product?

There is no existing method of Whitehall
distribution to meet the case.

Need I remind you of that disgraceful
incident when an Undersecretary...

Albeit it overworked, so be it.

But the fact remains
the man actually gave

his dispatch box key to
his personal assistant.

We simply cannot afford
that kind of ludicrous insecurity

when we are handling Witchcraft.

Now...

I have already discussed the problem
with Lilley of Naval Intelligence.

He is prepared to put at our disposal
a special main reading room

in the Admiralty main building,

where Witchcraft material can be seen

and watched over
by a senior janitor of this service.

Wouldn't you rather have Securicor?

The reading room will be known
for cover purposes

as the conference room of the Adriatic
Working Party, the AWP room, for short.

Thank you.

Customers with reading rights will
not have passes, since these can be
too accessible.

Instead, they will appear
on a special list with photographs.

They will identify themselves
personally to MY janitor.

- Whose janitor, Percy?
- He's already got his own
personal wizard.

The odd commissionaire
seems modest enough domestic staff.

- Allowing that all this is necessary...
- Essential.

...my Minister will want to know
more about the cost.

It must appear to be borne by
the Admiralty, even if you reimburse
covertly.

Of course. The reading room will have
to be extensively rebuilt to begin with.

Now, I'd like to call your attention
to the Foreign Office comment

on the most recent Witchcraft product.

And I quote, "This document sheds
an extraordinary sidelight"

"on Soviet aggressive thinking."

Does that mean they like it, Percy?

Do you like it, Bill? It's from the
very heart of your territory.

In 25 years, I haven't laid hands
on anything of that quality.

Unless I'm mistaken,
nor have our American cousins.

Anyone taking it to Washington
could drive a hard bargain.

- Early days, Bill.
- Agreed.

But if Merlin maintains that
standard, we can buy whatever's
in the Yanks' shop.

I don't think Control's going
to play. That would rule me out,
as well, of course.

- Percy will get his reading room.
- Yes.

And after that, I suppose
anything's possible.

Did you want to ask me something?

I'm afraid he's not seeing anyone today.

Again?

I'm being asked why he's canceled
the Tuesday conferences.

I can't add anything
to his memorandum, even for you.

- Even if I could, Mr Smiley...
- No, of course.

I was rather hoping, before I set off
on this Hong Kong trip...

Well, when I get back, perhaps he'll
have got through that little lot.

Now there's a committee.
The Minister is in the chair,
Alleline's vice-chairman.

Merlin's become an industry.
It's THE industry and I'm not employed.

- You won't even read Alleline's reports.
- I haven't time.

Buying their way in
with counterfeit money. Tell them that.

Tell them anything. I need time.

There are three of them and Alleline.

Sweat them. Tempt them.
Bully them. Anything.

Give them what ever they eat.
I need time.

Prompt as ever, Mr Smiley.

- How are your children, Toby?
- Doing terribly well.

The boy's at Westminster.
Is that right? You daughter's probably
left school by now.

- First year medical student. Loves it.
- Good for her.

Toby...I have to ask you this.

Sorry to come prying.

Your department's behind
with its work sheets. Two months almost.

Now, why is that?

It's not lamplighter style.

We're not infallible, George.

Two months? Well, I won't question it.
Is it terribly important?

If you say it is, I'll see
it's dealt with.

The question is WHY, Toby.

- Let me be blunt.
- Not YOUR style, George.

I'm allowed to say that, surely?

I am, after all, one of your
oldest prot�g�s. Vienna was
a long time ago.

You haven't been using your staff
for any special jobs? Either at home
or abroad?

The kind of special jobs which,
for reasons of security,

you haven't felt able to mention
in your returns.

Who would I do that for?
In my book, that's completely illegal.

Well, if Percy Alleline, for example,
ordered you to do something

and not record it, that would put you
in a difficult position.

- What sort of something?
- Clear a letter box, prime
a safe house.

Watch someone's back. Spike an embassy.
It's all lamplighter work.

If Percy told you to do it,

you might reasonably assume he was acting
on instructions from the fifth floor.

I do like the service. I may be
sentimental about it, but I prefer
to stay in it.

Now, you understand that.
You of all people.

My problem is promotion.

I mean, the absence of it.

I've so many years' seniority
that I feel quite embarrassed

when these young fellows ask me
to take orders from them.

Who, Toby?

Which young fellows? Roy Bland? Percy?

Would you call Percy young?

Who?

When you're overdue
for promotion and working hard,

anyone looks young
who is above you on the ladder.

- Have you been taking orders?
- You know the line of command,
George.

Perhaps Control could move
you up a few rungs.

Well, you know, actually...

I'm not sure he's able to
these days...are you?

- So what's the deal?
- There isn't a deal, Roy, really.

It's just that Control feels
the present situation is unhealthy.

He doesn't like to see you
getting mixed up with a cabal. Nor do I.

- So what's the deal?
- What do you want?

What about 5,000 quid
out of the reptile fund for starters?

- Then a house and a car?
- And the kid to Eton.

- Your father would turn in his grave.
- Let him rotate, the old Commie thug.

If there's no deal, George, you'll have
to tell Control he can get stuffed.

I've paid, you see. You know that.

I don't know what the hell I've bought
with it, but I've paid a packet.

Poznan, Budapest, Prague,
back to Poznan.

Have you ever been to Poznan?

Sofia, Kiev.

Two bloody nervous breakdowns
and still between the shafts.

That's big money at any age
...even yours.

No one can deny that, Roy.

And...you brought me in, remember.

If you think I'm going to the bad,
you've only got yourself to blame.

You're an educated sort of a swine.

"An artist is a bloke who can hold two
fundamentally opposing views"

"and still function."

- Who dreamed that one up?
- Scott Fitzgerald.

Well, Fitzgerald knew a thing or two.

And I'm definitely functioning.

As a good socialist,
I'm going where the money is.

As a good capitalist,
I'm sticking with the revolution

because, if you can't beat it,
spy on it.

Don't look like that, George?
It's the name of the game these days.

You scratch my conscience,
I'll drive your Jag, right?

No. Did you get that from Haydon?

Is that one of Bill's jokes
about materialist England,
the pigs-in-clover society?

- Don't you like it?
- Not much.

Of course there are acquisitive
instincts in Western society.

They are offset against other concerns
you won't find in...

Poznan, Budapest, Kiev, Sofia.

Tell me all about it, George.

I'm just saying that's England now, man.

All you have to do is look out
the bloody window.

You're seen with Bill Haydon
a great deal these days.

Jealous, George? You've got his job.

You're Control's High Chamberlain.
What more do you want?

Long as it lasts.

- They do say you write the reports.
- That's Roy's job.

No. Bland makes the translations.
YOU write the covering reports.

They're typed on your machine.

The material's not cleared for typists.

Percy Alleline won't do.
Is that the premise?

Which means that Merlin won't do either.
Poor old Control. He is in a pickle.

Merlin would do
if he were MY source, wouldn't he?

If dazzling bloody Bill had hooked
a whacking big fish and wanted to
play him alone,

what would happen then?

Control would say,
"That's very nifty of you, Bill boy.
You do it just the way you want."

"Have some filthy jasmine tea."

He'd be giving me a medal now...instead
of sending you snooping round corridors.

We used to be rather a classy bunch.
Why are we so vulgar these days?

- He thinks Percy's on the make.
- So he is. I also want to be head boy.

And Toby and Roy have designs
on your spot.

Since when was ambition
an offense in our beastly outfit?

Is Ann at home?

Sent her out to play
while you grill your old buddy.

- Who runs him, Bill?
- Percy? Who do you think?

Karla runs him. Stands out a mile.

Lower-class bloke with upper-class
sources. Must be a bounder.

- Bill...
- Percy's sold out to Karla.
Only explanation.

- Percy's our house mole.
- I meant who runs Merlin?

Who is Merlin?

What's going on?

This is a Callot, isn't it?

- Nice, very nice.
- Bill.

Doesn't anyone think
MY nose should be out of joint?

I'm supposed to be in charge
of the Russian target. Given it
my best years.

Set up networks, talent-spotters,
all mod cons.

You've all forgotten
what it's like to run an operation

where it takes three days to post a
letter and you don't get an answer.

That's hardly fair to Control.

You know how he detests glamor-boy
agents who hog the budget,

how he hates "miracles" if they
put the networks out of focus.

Pity he doesn't have the same
hatred of failure.

Has he lived with it too long?

Face it, George, it's Percy.

Percy's success...it's thrown Control.

And me, a bit.

Trouble is,
my networks haven't been good enough.

This is new.

I fancy this very much.

Ann gave it me.

- Making amends?
- Probably.

Must have been quite a sin.

How is she?

George...cut the cord.

Get away from Control.

He's cut you out of his life for weeks.

Dispatching you with errands
a probationer could handle.

What's he doing up there?

He's gone through files of Circus
folk heroes from year minus-one

Half of them under the earth already.

Sniffing out the dirt to see
who was pink, who was a queen.

He's given us all up.

- I don't think that's true.
- Senile paranoia. Control's
going potty.

And he's also dying.

It's just a question of
which gets him first.

And within six months of
Bill Haydon's diagnosis,

Control was indeed dead.

And what killed him?
Operation Witchcraft
or Operation Testify?

Neither.

Let's not be melodramatic.
Control would disapprove.

He died of old age.

A little early.

But Testify destroyed his function
in life, which was a form of murder.

I don't have nearly enough
on Testify, Peter.

Would you, please...er...?

Of course, George.

Lord, now lettest thou
thy servant

Depart in peace

According to

Thy word

For mine eyes have seen

Thy salvation

Which thou hast prepared
before the face

Of all people

To be a light

To lighten

The gentiles

And to be the glory

Of thy people

Israel

Glory be to the Father

And to the Son

And to the Holy Ghost

As it was in the beginning

Is now and ever shall be

World without end

Amen