All language subtitles for tinker.tailor.soldier.spy.s01e06.1080p.bluray.x264-surcode

George, old boy. What an amazing thing.

- Trust you popping up out of nowhere.
- How are you, Jerry?

George, this is terrific. What are
you doing? How's the demon wife?
How's everything?

First things first, what'll you have?

Fancy a bottle of bubbles? Shall we?

- A brandy and ginger ale is fine.
- Sure? Alright.

Linda, give us a double brandy
and ginger ale and another bucket
of gin, will you?

- I think I'll marry her.
- How many would that be?

I'm a divorce addict, hopeless case.

Not lucky like you, George,
but there's only one Ann.

I'll do a deal, an offer
you can't refuse.

I'll shack up with Ann, be the envy
of London, and you can have my job
on the comic.

You've the turn of phrase
for the women's ping-pong.

"Inscrutable Chinese Wizardess".
Do you fancy it?

Is that the task for today?

Much bigger stuff, old boy.
Footer, the opiate of the people.

Heap big transfer...

Scottish Thunderboots to rescue
of ex-champs now on the slide.

- Thanks, Linda, my love.
- Will I write it down, Mr Westerby?

Ah, please, Linda.

- Cheers, George.
- Cheers.

This isn't entirely a chance meeting.

I got the letter you wrote me,
last football season. I burnt it
straight away.

Right, thanks. Stupid of me,
talking out of school...sorry.

No, you did what you felt
was right at the time and so did I.

Haven't seen many of the boys
and girls lately, actually.

Guess they've put both of us
on the shelf. With me I can hardly
blame them.

Firewater not good for braves.
They think I'll blab, crack up.

I'm sure they don't.

I expect they're resting you up.
They do that, you know?

In case you've wondered,
I didn't tell anyone about your letter.

I was out of favor...out of work.

Writing to me wasn't what put them off,
if that's what you thought.

In your letter you said you were
a bit worried about Toby Esterhase.

Felt you ought to get something
off your chest.

I got all xenophobe and suspicious.

Thought Toby had gone
a bit haywire, in fact.

- I should talk.
- Tell me now.

You'd just come back
from Czechoslovakia, hadn't you?

Last job I did for Tobe.
Looks like the last I'll ever do.

- Letterbox job?
- Yes, nothing to it, really.

Telephone kiosk, ledge at the top,
dump a package ready for collection.

That was Budapest.
The Czechoslovak thing,
I ran into by accident.

Had to go on to Prague, for the comic.
Nothing to do with Tobe.

- Linda, sweetheart.
- Again, Mr Westerby?

Please, my beauty. Oh, no, no, no.

Got time to eat?
We'll go Dutch on that, shall we?

I was in this bar in Prague,
always use it. Locals go there,
all sorts.

Well, I got in with this crowd
round a corner table,

a bloke playing a squeeze box,
we're all hugger-mugger to the music...

Ah, thank you, Linda, my love.

And there's this kid with
a pudding bowl haircut. Army...obvious.

He's on leave, well in his cups,
and knows I'm English.

Suddenly he says, do I want to
know the truth about the British spy

shot by the Russian secret police?

Just like that. Yells it
right in my ear.

I play dumb, and he
goes right on with it.

You know, the Jim Prideaux shambles.

He was belly-aching
about being a foot soldier of the line.

Seems on the two nights in question,
they were being chased till dizzy.

Make camp, break camp, move up,
move back...fix bayonets!

But the big point was the Russian
contingent.

Full warpaint...tanks,
motor-bikes, tracker dogs

and a big car load of very
sinister civilians.

Dirty work afoot in the forest,
up near the Austrian border.

So, my little friend, being
a sassy little devil,

decides to ask his sergeant
what's it all about.

"Sarge," he says, "What's going on?
We being invaded, Sarge?"

"No, son," says the sergeant.
"The Russians are after a British spy"

"who tried to kidnap a general."

- "Are" after...or "were" after?
- Exactly.

That's what the kid wanted to tell me.
The Russians moved in on the Friday.

It was the day after when they got Jim.

As he said, they were ready and waiting
for him. Knew the lot, in advance.

Heap bad story.
Bad for our big chief. Bad for tribe.

So, as soon as I got back,
I went and told all to Tobe.

How did he take it?

To begin with it was
"Thanks a million, Jerry, old boy."

He'd go and pow-wow with the top brass.

Then the next morning...

You're so plastered these days,
you can't tell fact from fiction!

You're an embarrassment!

You go on a bender,
drink yourself into cloud cuckoo land,

then come staggering back here
with a load of tripe like this!

You're pathetic!

- Look, old boy...
- I don't want any excuses.

- I had to report what I heard.
- You believed every stupid word!

Swallowed it like mother's milk!

A load of half-baked rumors,
you come spreading them round here,

what you can remember,
through your alcoholic haze!

- I didn't forget a thing.
- Well, you will now!

You'll forget the lot!

Don't you see? The boy was a plant...
provocateur, in layman's language.

He was doing a job
for Moscow Center. Object...disruption.

Make the Circus chase our own tails.
And you fell for it, Jerry. That's all.

OK, Tobe, you know best.

If you don't want the story,
that's your business. I'll do it
for the paper.

You'll what?

Not about the Russians
getting there first, but the rest,
it's all good stuff.

Story wasn't covered well at the time,
just the official statement.

If old Jerry gets a splash about the day
the Czechs mobilized for WWIII...

except it was one lone Englishman
surrounding them...that's a good piece.

The comic might even run
an ad on the telly.

The day after that I was called for
by the editor.

THE editor, not the sports bloke.

He tells me some clown has been
on the phone with a formal warning.

"Keep that baboon Westerby
off the Czecho spy story."

"Any further reference against
the national interest."

"End of message."

So, I didn't get the Reporter
of the Year award.

Can't, can you, when your story's
on the spike? Cheers.

You didn't spike it entirely.
I mean, you wrote to me.

Dropped the letter in by hand.

Must have been the same day
you talked to Toby Esterhase.

Well, as I said at the time,
it just felt odd.

My mistake, old boy.

When I heard you got the heave-ho,
I felt an even bigger damn fool.

I thought it was you who
phoned the editor.

It wasn't.

'Course not. Sorry.

Nothing untoward going on?

Tribe hasn't gone on the rampage?

But are you hunting alone?

I'm not the brightest, but when
you start asking questions, there's
got to be something.

All I'm saying is, any time, old boy.

Thank you, Jerry.

- Rum chap, Toby Esterhase.
- But good.

God, first rate, brilliant, but rum.

You won't forget to give my love to Ann?

One of the great marriages,
always said so.

Come on, Jerry, out with it.
Did Toby say something about Ann?

Some story he'd got. I told him
to stuff it up his silk drawers.

- I suppose I should have been prepared.
- Take on a temporary, you
can't expect loyalty.

Well done, that boy!

We're going to lose this match.
So much for Prideaux's coaching.

I'm absolutely furious with that man.
It's monstrous to clear off.

Did he say what's wrong with his mother?

No, he did not. She is supposed
to be dying.

That's one excuse for absence
he can hardly use again.

Not at all, Mother. One false alarm
can easily lead to another.

I'll ask for a full medical diagnosis
next time.

Those front row forwards
of theirs look over-age to me.

Did he ever tell you
how he got that awful shoulder?

- Fell off a bus with
a bottle of vodka...
- What?

Fell off a bus with a bottle of vodka
inside him, I shouldn't wonder.

I suppose I shall have
to take his French.

Oh, come on, Thursgood, keep up!

He's gone in the Alvis. He'd never
trust any other form of transport.

If he'd gone for good, he wouldn't
leave the caravan behind, would he?

Stands to reason, that!

Besides, he'd have said "Goodbye"
properly, Rhino would.

Wouldn't just go, not Rhino.
Not like a juju man.

I've come about the furs.

- Hello, Toby.
- Peter.

It's not exactly five-star. But then
we are shopping a bit downmarket.

Safe houses I have known!

Take the weight off your feet,
won't be long.

So, we're expecting a Pole,
are we, Peter?

In the fur trade. You think
I might take him on as a courier?

I'd like him on my own payroll,
for preference. Looks useful.

But what's the point?
My lads are under-employed as it is.

Very generous of you, Peter.

Stay put, Toby.

Sorry about this, Toby.

Against the wall, Tobe.

Did he come alone or is there
a little friend waiting in the square?

Looks all clear to me, sir.

Go back to the other room
and don't take your eyes off the street.

- Seen something?
- Turn the light out a moment.

Just a shadow, I suppose.

Yes, I think so.

I want to put a thesis to you, Toby,
about what's been going on.

Let's cast our minds back,
say about 18 months, when
Control is still with us.

Percy Alleline wants his job,
everyone knows that.

Though Control is sick
and past his prime, Percy
can't dislodge him.

It's a time of uneasiness in the Circus.
Morale is low, activity is low. Yes?

I remember, George.

Well, Percy's door opens one day
and one of our senior men walks in.

We'll call him Gerald. It's just a name.

Gerald says, "Percy, I've stumbled on a
major source of Russian intelligence."

"It could be a gold mine."

Perhaps they take a walk or a drive.
Whatever, Percy listens,

because what Gerald goes on to say
is music in Percy's ears.

"Some of us," Gerald tells him,

"are worried sick about the state
the Circus is in."

"Look at our operational losses,
agents, networks."

He's careful not to suggest
there's a traitor inside the Circus,

but emphasizes that slovenliness at
the top is leading to failure all round.

That is to say, it's all
Control's fault.

My thesis, you understand.

- Sure, George.
- Another notion

is that Percy Alleline
was his own Gerald.

He bought himself a top Russian spy
and then manned his own boat.

I don't believe that.
I think he'd mess it up, don't you?

Sure, George.

So the next thing is for Gerald
to say to Percy,

"I and a little group of
like-minded friends"

"want you to be our
father-figure, Percy."

"We're not political men, we don't know
our way in the Whitehall jungle."

"But you do." Did you bring
a baby-sitter, Toby?

Why should I? I came to meet Peter
and some Pole in the fur trade.

Do you want Fawn to go down
and have a look?

No, need him here. Can't
take the chance.

Yes, well, Gerald says that if Percy
will handle the committees,

he and his friends will handle Merlin.

Merlin being the Moscow
intelligence source

and Witchcraft the name of the material
he supplies. How well it all worked.

Merlin's material proved excellent,
as everyone agreed, except Control.

Eventually Control was out
and Percy was king.

- So what's new, George?
- Ever bought a fake picture, Toby?

I sold a couple once.

The more you pay, the less inclined
you are to doubt its authenticity.

Merlin's price was 20,000 francs
a month into a Swiss bank,

according to the file.

Yes, Toby, this is official.

There came the day when Gerald admitted
Percy to the greatest secret of all:

That the Merlin set-up has a London end.

Aleksey Aleksandrovich Polyakov,

Cultural Attach�
at the Russian Embassy in London.

You're on record
as grading him snow-white, Toby.

Quite untainted with the mischief
of espionage.

In fact, he's Merlin's London
representative.

That's the start, I should tell you now,
of a very clever knot.

Everything to do with Witchcraft
is secret, of course,

but a lot of people are involved...

transcribers, translators,
codists, evaluators, God knows what.

It doesn't worry Gerald, of course.

He likes it because the art of being
Gerald is to be one of a crowd.

When it comes to Polyakov,
that's a different story.

Who knows it? Only you,
Roy Bland, Bill Haydon and Percy.

Three of you and Alleline.
You're the magic circle.

Who meets him, Toby?

For God's sake, let me
sweat the bastard.

You all meet him. How's that?

Percy represents the authoritarian side.

Asks after his wife,
suggests it's time he took a holiday.

Very paternal, Percy would be.

Bill Haydon, I think,
would see Polyakov much more often.

Bill's a Russian expert
and good entertainment value.

Bill would shine when it comes
to the briefings and follow-up sessions,

making sure the right messages
went back to Moscow.

Roy Bland's good on economics and is
top man on the satellite countries,

so he'd have plenty to chat about.

Then there's you, Toby.

You'd have solo sessions with Polyakov
as there's tradecraft to discuss

and all those little snippets
about goings-on inside the Embassy,

which are pretty much your field.

If the magic circle wanted him to do
some photography inside the Embassy,

it would be you who would
supply the film.

Replenish his stock from time to time.

Take him little sealed packets.

Toby, you wouldn't be lying?
Did you bring a baby-sitter?

- Cross my heart.
- What would you use
for a job like this?

- Cars?
- No. On foot.

- Keep walking them through.
- How many?

- Eight. Ten, maybe.
- What about one man, alone?

- One? Never. Impossible.
- I can call Mendel to take a look.

I'm sure Toby's right.

Listen, George, I know Polyakov
works for Moscow Center.

Of course I do. We all know.
But come on.

Think how many other operations
we've run this way.

We've bought Polyakov, right. He's a
Moscow hood but he's also our joe.

He's got to pretend to his own people
that he's spying on us.

So we've got to give him
one or two goodies now and then.

Sure, I've passed him
the odd sealed packet...chickenfeed.

He can send them home,
Moscow Center clap him on the back,
say he's a big man.

It happens all the time.
Come on, George, you know the game.

Are you Polyakov's agent
inside the Circus?

Someone has to be.

If his cover for meeting you people
is that he's spying on the Circus,

then he must have a man on the inside.

Polyakov can't report back
to Moscow Center

after he's picked up a great load
of Circus chickenfeed

and say, "I got this from the boys."

He's got to have a whole history.
How he selected his man,

courted him, bought him,
how they meet and where.

The whole paraphernalia
of running a double agent.

And all this in Moscow Center's
archives.

You, Toby?

Toby Esterhase masquerades as a Circus
traitor to keep Polyakov in business.

My hat, Toby. A dangerous job like that
deserves a whole chestful of medals.

You're on a damn long road. What happens
to you if you never reach the other end?

With Lacon and the Minister behind me?

Why pick on the little guy?
Why not go for the big ones...

Percy Alleline, Bill Haydon?

- Thought you were a big guy these days.
- You're the perfect choice, Toby.

Resentful about slow promotion,
sharp-witted, fond of money...

With you as his agent,
he has a cover story that really works.

The big three give you
the little sealed packets of chickenfeed

and Moscow Center thinks
you're all theirs.

The problem arises when it
turns out you've been handing
Polyakov the crown jewels

and getting Russian chickenfeed
in return.

If that's the case, Toby, you're going
to need good friends, like us.

Gerald of course, is a Russian mole.

- And he's pulled the Circus inside out.
- But Witchcraft material
isn't chickenfeed.

- It's the best.
- It was good at first.

George, suppose you're wrong?

- Toby...I
- Who told you to muzzle Jerry Westerby?

The same person who sent you down
to Sarratt with �1,000 for Jim Prideaux

and the instruction, "Get lost"?

- Speak up.
- Was it Percy?

I think so. Maybe it was Bill, though.

Listen, it was a big operation.
Sometimes Roy...

It never seemed to come straight
from one. There was a committee.

I took a lot of orders.

You told Prideaux to forget
about Tinker, Tailor. Where
did that come from?

I never knew what that meant.
Now, George, that's the truth.

Poor Toby...yes, I do see.

What a dog's life you must have been
leading, running between them all.

George, if there's anything
I can do, of a practical nature.

You know me, George.
My boys are pretty well trained.

If you want to borrow them...
I'd have to speak to Lacon, of course,

but...you'd expect that.

All I want is for this thing to
be cleared up. For the good
of the Circus.

I want nothing for myself.

Where's this safe house you keep
exclusively for meeting Polyakov?

5 Lock Gardens, Camden Town.

You'll be staying here for a night
or two. Fawn will look after you.

Fawn!

You'll have to make
appropriate explanations to
the Circus, by telephone.

You're having girl trouble or whatever
sort of trouble you're in these days.

Then there's your wife, of course.

Sure, George, I can handle that.

If he's any bother, Fawn,
use your own discretion.

Peter, I want you to watch my back.
Will you do that?

- Look for one man. But look!
- We'll join up in Sussex Gardens.

Same as you, George. Just a feeling...
someone, but couldn't say for certain.

I covered you both to the front door.
If you did have company, he's cleverer
than me.

But it's been known.

Do you have anyone in particular
in mind? Will I go to pavement level
and take a sniff?

- Well, proceed?
- Yes.

Right. Now, the Minister has
one major worry. In his own words,

"How much porcelain gets broken
at the end of the day?"

Scandal, he's talking about.
If we unmask the mole,

will the Russians cut their losses
by telling the world's press

- how they made fools of us?
- I think not.

Make your enemy look stupid, you lose
the justification for taking him on.

- I've told him that, George.
- So isn't his mind at rest?

He hopes there'll be nothing messy.
Nothing that could provoke Moscow.

- But proceed?
- Heavens, yes.

Clean the stables.
Problem, flush out the mole.

Method?

We need to alarm him, just sufficiently

to make him call for a crash meeting
with Polyakov at the safe house.

A meeting Gerald the mole
needs all to himself,

secret from the rest
of the Witchcraft magic circle.

There are two of them and Alleline.

- You've definitely cleared Esterhase?
- Oh, yes.

- Thank you.
- Karla really did bring off
the perfect fix...

For a while. It would be
beautiful in another context.

Tinker...Alleline. Tailor...Haydon.
Soldier...Bland.

- Spot the mole.
- Quite. Ways and means, George?

Ricki Tarr will go to Paris.

He'll make use
of the appropriate Embassy facilities

to send a signal to the Head
of London Station.

"Something, something, something,"
which we'll now concoct.

The message will be,
"Have information vital to the
safeguarding of the service."

"Request immediate meeting. Personal."

Remember, "Vital to the safeguarding
of the service."

- It's even true.
- Don't forget that.

No mistakes, Ricki. Your head's
on the block.

Not the only one, Peter.

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