Mr Bond?
Yes?
I'm Lieutenant Mathis of the Special Police.
These are my credentials.
They appear to be in order.
Come with me.
They used to say a good spy is a pure spy, inside and out.
Roses, Tanagra figurines and Debussy.
He plays Debussy every afternoon
from sunset until it's too dark to read the music.
Stands on his head a lot, eats royal jelly.
Lets his intestines down and washes them by hand.
Something he learned during his sojourn in Tibet.
M, what gives?
I forgot to mention lions.
- Lions and more lions. - We're surrounded by lions.
I did not come here to be devoured by symbols of monarchy!
I warn you, M, if this is a trap...
Calm yourselves, gentlemen. It's no trap, I assure you.
The lions are only curious. He has few visitors.
That I can believe.
A veritable Eden, is it not, gentlemen?
Eden without an Eve is an absurdity.
A good spy is a pure spy.
Not good. Great.
The greatest spy in history, gentlemen.
The true, one and only, original James Bond.
- The gentlemen are here, Sir James. - Thank you.
- My dear Bond. - My dear M.
Ransome, CIA, Sir James.
J-Junior cipher c-clerk in m-my day, weren't you, Ransome?
Yes, sir. JCC, class G, SIC to SCCT. CIA, Washington DC.
Smernov, KGB, Sir James.
Ah, yes. L-Labour camp inspector.
Ikon 988, GPU, Siberian sector.
I remember your ch-chap Lenin very well.
First-class organiser, second-class mind.
Le Grand, Sir James. Deuxième bureau.
Promoted at last from the vice detail?
How incredibly well you look, James.
Time, my dear M, does not exist within these walls.
- They ain't for real. - Yes, a far cry from our embattled world.
In my day spying was an alternative to war.
The spy was a member of a select and immaculate priesthood,
vocationally d-devoted, sublimely disinterested.
Hardly a description of that sexual acrobat
who leaves a t-trail of beautiful dead women like blown roses behind him.
- You mean... - You know very well who I mean.
That b-bounder to whom you gave my name and number.
My dear James, when you left us we were a small service,
under-financed, ludicrously ill-equipped.
It was essential that your legend be maintained.
Without a James Bond 007, no one would have respected us.
Him and his wretched g-gadgets.
We must make use of the weapons of our time.
So I observe.
You, Ransome, with your trick carnation that s-spits cyanide.
You ought to be ashamed.
The Russians started it.
And you, Smernov, with an armoury concealed in your grotesque boots.
Listen to them tinkle.
And you, Le Grand, with a different deadly poison in each of your fly buttons.
And you, M, with your flame-throwing fountain pens.
Y-Y-You're joke-shop spies, gentlemen.
We are in the last half of the 20th century, Sir James.
- Even you have to face it. - Why should I, when I can face that?
Look at my garden. Out there, there is a black rose.
Not dark red, but black.
As a raven's wing at midnight.
I would not exchange one single petal for anything your world has to offer,
including an Aston M-Martin with lethal accessories.
You have only contempt for the proletariat, Sir James. This we know.
If I didn't know better, I'd say you'd lost your faith in democracy.
You can break the glass, but you can't hold back the weather.
Things are bad. I've lost 1 1 agents in the last fortnight - seven killed, four missing.
- Is my namesake among them? - He may well be tomorrow.
Eight of ours were given the works - two in the Pentagon.
- 16. - KGB is depleted.
I cannot disclose exact figures.
The enemy has penetrated our most secret inner circles.
- He reads our very mind. - For all we know,
he has his eye on us now.
Are you quite sure he is not one or m-more of you?
- No, no. - Absolutely sure.
Until this danger is past, we must stand united in the defence of all spies,
great or small, regardless of nationality.
Calamity makes strange b-bedfellows, but why, in the strength of your unity,
do you disturb a gentleman in his retirement?
We need your inspirational leadership.
Please give us the benefit of your incomparable powers of deduction.
- For all freedom-loving peoples. - For the glorious socialist revolution.
If I may interrupt this flow of clichés,
it is now that time of day I have set apart for Debussy.
Can this be the man who won a Victoria Cross at Mafeking?
The hero of the Ashanti Uprising?
What genius to be wasted in the service of a crumbling empire.
Why, at the height of his powers, did Bond decide to retire?
Mata Hari, my dear friend.
- What's the connection? - The woman in his life.
- I don't get it. - It was his painful duty
to lure her across the Spanish frontier into France,
where we stood her in front of a firing squad.
He really loved that woman.
Well, James?
I'm sorry, old man, but what you ask is quite impossible.
Perhaps this will change your decision.
My record speaks my loyalty. But no, not even for her, McTarry.
Sorry, James.
There's McTarry's signal. Stand by.
- Zero. - On.
- Fire! - Fire!
Up 200!
- Authority to Control. - Go ahead.
Proceed with Smersh Plan B.
Sir James Bond is back, with his morals, his vows, and his celibate image.
We must destroy that image.
Riverbank to Control.
- Go ahead. - The target has just entered Scotland.
- M's castle to Control. - M's name is McTarry. Use it.
Plan B in operation.
McTarry Castle completely occupied, with only one change.
Agent Mimi is now M's widow.
Agent Mimi impersonating Lady Fiona?
Well, she has the best Scots accent.
And that's all that's left of the McTarry.
Your husband d-died as he lived, Lady Fiona. In the service of Her Majesty.
I thought it would be my p-painful duty to impart the news.
How did you know your husband M - I'm sorry, McTarry - was dead?
- We were told. - Might I ask who told you?
- The Grey Piper. - The who?
Tell Sir James about the Grey Piper, lass.
Whenever a McTarry dies,
he comes down from the mountain, over the loch and through the heather,
playing the clan lament.
We always put a tappit-hen of usquebaugh outside the castle door.
- Tappit-hen? - A quart o' whisky.
- Is he a real p-piper? - We dinna ken.
But it's been the same one for 600 years.
- Naught else remains? - Nothing to s-speak of, I'm afraid.
It was found in a tree, 100 yards from where he stood.
Took off, as it were, and flew like a b-bird.
But whether it is an article of apparel
or an anatomical f-feature, that is the question.
Should it be given Christian burial? Just how p-personal is a toupee?
It can only be regarded as a ''hairloom''.
Eliza, put it wi' all the other relics of McTarry glory.
We all ken that our beloved McTarry of the Glen
was a different man in Whitehall.
But McTarry women never ask questions.
According to clan tradition, when the laird dies
a black he-goat must be ta'en alive off Ben Tarry by six barefoot virgins.
I myself slaughter it.
The daughters wrest the stomach out, and stuff it wi' entrails.
Bright entrails.
Sear it, boil it, and serve it up.
And eat it?
- Warm reekin'. - Sounds d-delicious.
We start feastin' at midnight, washin' the haggis down wi' usquebaugh.
One gies strength to the limbs, the other fire to the blood for dancin'.
- Dancing? - The McTarry funeral fling.
''Argar, argar garar goru argar'' it goes.
- Most m-moving. - Ah, we dance till we fall in our tracks.
And after an hour's repose, the piper wakes us
to the tune o' ''Awa' to the Grouse''
and awa' we go to the memorial grouse shoot.
B-But surely the grouse are not in season?
Whenever a McTarry dies, the grouse come into season.
I'm Heather.
I'm Meg. Your bath's ready, Sir James.
- Thank you. - At the end of the passage.
- Very kind of you. - Let us help you out o' your duddies.
- No, thank you. I can manage m-my... - We always helped Daddy.
How many of you are there? D-Daughters, I mean.
- 11 in all. - 11? M-My word.
And how do the ages run?
Who is the... How young is the youngest?
- 16. - And the eldest?
19.
You mean there are only...? That's my loose kneecap.
There are only three years between all 11 of you?
Some of us are adopted daughters.
I see. Steady.
- Are there any m-men in the house? - Nane but the pipers.
My daddy only liked the lassies.
Your d-daddy really was a d-different man in Whitehall.
I'm testing the temperature of the water
as I always did for my daddy.
He used to call me his little thermometer.
Well? Get in.
- Get in? - Get in!
You're sure I'm not c-crowding you?
Get in.
Do you like your back scrubbed?
Thank you.
- What is your n-name, my dear? - Buttercup.
- How old are you? - 17.
- Do you go to school? - Daddy taught us.
There. You're as sleek as a baby.
Now, turn round.
What form are you in?
Can ye nae judge that for yourself, Sir James?
- What is your favourite subject? - Anatomy.
That's your mediastinum.
That's your orbicularis oris.
That's your Azygos vein.
That's your articular cartilage, and those are your synovial membranes.
- Right, right. - It's getting gey cold!
- Quite. - My daddy liked it hotter.
I am not your d-da... Quite.
Thank you.
- To the laird! - To the laird!
To your right, Sir James - Lady Mary, daughter of Lord Douglas McTarry,
raped by the Campbells in 1622.
In retaliation of which,
Lord Douglas sent his only son Hamish out to rape twa Campbell lassies.
- At the same t-time? - Eldest first, of course.
As prescribed by scripture. The youngest bore him triplets.
Their union being thus bounteously blessed,
a contract of marriage was entered into
which brought the McTarrys Black Loch, Ben Torn, the Shags of Raugh,
Glen Noch, and a good stretch of salmon water.
All the best.
I say, does she...?
Good night, ladies.
Sleep I've had nane for thinkin' on my dearie.
All the long night I walk, grovellin' in grief.
Comfort me, Jamie lad.
Gie me your bosom to weep on.
- Doudle me, Jamie. - Really, madam!
I hereby claim my widow's due according to McTarry tradition.
Let me be comforted.
Doudle me!
A quaint custom, but one more honoured in the breach than in the observance.
Then you'll have to pay the piper!
The p-piper?
You heard me, you mean-mou'd, ill-willie cuif!
You'll have to pay the piper!
Robin! Jock!
Sandy!
You've been challenged to warsle with Sir James.
He wants to warsle.
I haven't warsled for years. I may be a little out of p-practice.
Play ball!
Ha! Superbe!
Formidable!
Splendide! Bravo!
Magnifique. Mais...
Surprising how quickly it all comes back.
Ah, well. A little b-beauty sleep before the grouse shoot, perhaps?
Beaters, follow Marie over to the butts.
Eliza, stay here with me for the countdown.
Oh, my love is like a red, red rose
that's newly sprung in June.
- Fire, Mission. - Roger.
- Fuse alarm missiles. - Roger.
- Supercharge. - Roger.
Fire.
The button!
- Oh, beloved! - Good of you to join me.
- The button! The button! - She's with him.
Magnetic! Homing device!
- Which button is it? Let me look! - There's a knife in my pocket.
- See! - Take off my braces.
My braces.
And now, madam, if you'd be kind enough to furnish a few answers.
Our orders were to corrupt you, to befoul your image of yourself.
Failing that, we were to kill you.
- I see. - Look! They've found the button.
- Who g-gave you these orders? - Authority.
International Mothers' Help, East Berlin.
Jolly good sport, what?
You're wounded.
'Tis but a thimbleful.
But heart's blood.
Farewell, Jamie.
My dear.
Again. Say it again.
James Bond, my jo James.
James Bond, my jo.
My dear.
One more request.
The last.
Think of me as the second woman in your life.
The one after Mata Hari.
Kiss me, Jamie.
Kiss me goodbye.
Madam! Are you quite sure you're dying?
Not dying, but giving up my life.
I'm going to another world.
There's a convent over that hill.
Bond leaving Scotland now. Instructions understood.
Jag to Dairy. Contact in position.
- Get ready to deliver milk. - Dairy to Jag. Understood.
- Stand by, Remote Control. - Remote control ready.
Speed ready. Distance ready.
- Start milk float. - Contact.
- Distance 75 yards. - Accelerating.
- Prime detonators. - Check.
- Gap has widened. - 30 yards.
- Retract detonators. - Check.
- Hold it. He's too close. - Dropping speed.
Ignore Jag. Increase speed.
- Distance gauge failing. - Vision failing. No vision.
Switch to automatic control. Hello, Jag. Are you receiving me?
Drop speed. I'm in direct line.
Jag to Dairy. Drop speed now!
Hello, Jag. Come in, Jag.
- Detonators out. - Out.
Good Lord! Moneypenny. You haven't changed a bit.
Actually, I'm Miss Moneypenny's daughter.
- How is your dear mother? - After you left, she took the vows.
That seems to be the in thing to do these days.
I must say, this place brings back a few memories.
Yes, Mother told me some of them.
She probably also told you that I'm partial to jasmine tea. Lapsang Souchong.
By the way, since I came in here have you noticed me stammer?
- No, sir. - Let me know if I do.
I haven't got time for that now.
- Will you be needing me tonight, sir? - Very probably.
If I'm to take over this department, I have to know all M's secrets.
Not his personal ones, of course.
- May I say welcome back, Sir James. - Thank you...
- Hadley, sir. - Of course. You were...
- My father's son, sir. - And where is your dear father now?
- The same place, sir. - That's encouraging.
Bring me up to date. Who's on what assignment?
- It's not a happy picture. - Why the black flags?
They've been liquidated, I'm afraid.
Finland - stabbed to death in a ladies' sauna bath, sir.
Madrid - burnt in a blazing bordello, sir.
And Tokyo, sir - garrotted in a geisha house.
It's depressing that ''secret agent'' has become synonymous with ''sex maniac''.
- Incidentally, where is my namesake? - We had to take him off the board, sir.
He's now doing television.
Why are there two flags in the Caribbean?
We've been out of contact for a month, sir. We're not sure which one to leave.
- Who's there? - Your nephew, sir. Jimmy Bond.
Rather a disappointment, I'm afraid, little Jimmy.
Listen. You can't shoot me.
I have a very low threshold of death.
My doctor says I can't have bullets enter my body at any time.
What if I said I was pregnant?
Could I have a last c-cigarette? I'm gonna give it up any day now.
Thank you.
Listos!
You realise this means an angry letter to 'The Times'.
Apunten!
Fuego!
So long, suckers!
Apunten! Fuego!
And so I think we'd better count him out, sir.
Yes. Hadley, we're up against an opposition of fiendish ingenuity.
- They make incredible use of women. - Yes, they tend to nowadays.
Female spies harassed me in Scotland, female spies chased me to London.
We need an AFSD - Anti-Female-Spy Device.
We find the one man all women want, then we train him not to want women.
All our wantable agents have disappeared, sir.
This is where you come in. Go through all the auxiliary files.
The lot, sir? lt'll take all night.
Your mother did her best work at night.
Shall we continue?
- And what is your name? - Cooper, Big Eyes. But call me Coop.
- Like something for keeping birds. - That's me.
- I have to note your qualifications. - Height 6ft 2½, 184lb.
Trophies for karate and judo, holder of the Kamasutra black belt.
- Very impressive. How do you spell that? - I'll show you.
I have to check 15 more auxiliaries in alphabetical...
Call Mr Zacharias and tell him not to wait up. The vacancy's just been filled.
A first-class performance, Cooper. Excellent.
- Your primary statistics fit the bill. - We aim to please, sir.
You will start your AFSD training immediately.
Moneypenny, get a few dozen girls for Cooper to start with.
- Moneypenny? - A few dozen girls...
I appreciate your confidence, sir.
All agents and trainees will now be known as James Bond 007, including the girls.
Won't that be confusing, sir?
The enemy won't know which way to turn. You are now James Bond.
Congratulations, 007.
And you, 007... sir.
Good hunting, 007.
Doesn't that do something to you, 007?
It does but I'm being trained to ignore it. Beauty's only skin-deep.
How about some skin diving?
Not today, Lorelei.
Right. Ting-Ling.
You know that every fifth child born in the world is Chinese?
- They'll have to keep it up without me. - Why are you so inscrutable?
- That's meant to be our racket. - You might be a double agent.
- What would you do if I was? - Whether you are or not, sayonara.
Next. Shirley.
- You're not Shirley. - No.
I'm the new secret weapon.
- I've just been perfected. - Yes, haven't you?
- They've kept me under wraps. - Lucky them.
What do you do that's so secret?
I don't do anything. But unless you're one of them, you do.
You're really learning to put up quite a resistance.
- It goes against my nature. - I sense that too.
- What are you doing after the exercise? - Getting my head examined.
Our man in Delhi tells us gold will be up two points by midday tomorrow.
Buy gold.
- It'll cost you three nuclear warheads. - Offer two.
Your offer for Rockefeller Center is accepted.
I've changed my mind. I like London. What about Lord Nelson's statue?
It was delivered today, Miss Lynd.
My dear Miss Lynd.
- Who are you, sir? - I am Sir James Bond.
But I thought you were retired, Sir James.
The whole world believes you were eaten by a shark.
That was no shark, that was my personal submarine.
But enough of this polite conversation.
- What is the purpose of your visit? - I desperately need your help.
My dear Sir James, I hardly ever undertake assignments these days.
I can see why, but I think I can persuade you to undertake this one.
Your reputation is remarkable.
But believe me when I say I save all my energies for business.
I have here a writ for just over £5 million tax arrears.
If you were to be cooperative,
I could arrange easy payments and a substantial discount?
Perhaps we should discuss this matter in comfort, Sir James.
Thank you. What a charming outfit that is.
Do you often wear that in the office?
If I wore it in the street, people might stare.
You said, Sir James, you needed my help.
I did, didn't l? I have a dossier on a man who works at the Buckingham Club.
His name is Evelyn Tremble.
Mr Evelyn Tremble?
- Yes, that's right. - Isn't Evelyn a girl's name?
No, it's mine actually.
- Do you know me from somewhere? - Your book: 'Tremble On Baccarat'.
I've studied it very closely.
At night, in my bed.
Is that where you study it?
There are several passes you describe in your book
which I don't fully understand.
Which passes are these?
They're all marked. I would have to have my book. Your book.
And my book is in...
My bed.
You're winning tonight.
I'll send my car for you.
- Yes? - Hello. It's me, Evelyn Tremble.
Hello, Mr Tremble. Can you hold on for a moment?
Eric? Don't forget to empty the deepfreeze first thing in the morning.
Hello, Mr Tremble. I'm so sorry to keep you waiting,
but I was just seeing someone off.
Come right up, all right? Bye-bye.
- So nice of you to come. - My pleasure.
This way.
The look of love
Is in your eyes
A look your smile can't disguise
The look of love
It's saying so much more than just words could ever say
And what my heart has heard
Well, it takes my breath away
I can hardly wait to hold you
Feel my arms around you
How long I have waited
Waited just to love you
Now that I have found you
You've got the look of love
It's on your face
The look that time can't erase
Hello.
That's Lord Nelson, isn't it?
- Yes. Isn't he beautiful? - Yes.
- And do you know what he said? - What?
England expects every man to do his duty.
So he did, yes. But this is Mayfair. Lord Nelson's in Trafalgar Square surely.
No, not any more. He's mine. Haven't you read the papers today?
- I don't normally get them quite so early. - I get 'em before they're printed.
I suppose you can do anything if you have money.
Why don't you come down to me?
Thank you very much.
Lovely place you've got down there.
Sit here.
I do so like to feel comfortable whatever I'm doing.
Yes indeed. Yes. The more relaxed the muscles,
the better the synchronisation between mind and body.
I should think you're frightfully synchronised, Mr Tremble.
- Martini? - What about them?
I was just about to offer you one.
The things I didn't understand too well in your book. Let me see...
Was it in chapter seven or chapter six?
Chapter six probably.
Though of course it could have been chapter seven.
Have you got the book or is it still in your bed?
I believe it is.
Well, we'd better go right through the book, hadn't we?
Do you get many complaints from the neighbours?
Do you really think that your system is completely faultless?
- Which system? - Your system for winning at baccarat.
Yes, yes. The Evelyn Tremble system is faultless.
Good. Come on. We have more to do.
More?
I like a man who is able to retain his own personality,
no matter what the circumstances.
Yes.
No matter how he's dressed.
They say it's the clothes that make the man.
If we're gonna work together, I have to know what kind of a man you are.
I thought you might have gathered a little from...
I want to see what happens when you put on a different hat, a costume.
You know, that sort of thing.
- You like that sort of thing, eh? - You'll find clothes in there. Put them on.
Well, if you think it's really necessary.
Unless you'd like to go around one more time.
One more time?
There is nothing wrong with the British Army that a damn good swim won't cure.
Now, Evelyn Tremble.
38 years old, born in Highgate.
Hello, sailor.
The wrong one, yes?
Perfect.
Distinguishing birthmark, little scar on right shoulder,
strawberry-shaped birthmark on left thigh.
Well, there's nothing unusual in that.
No. I myself have an apricot one on my hip.
Well, I'll show you my strawberry if you'll show me your apricot.
Author of a book on baccarat.
Have you ever heard of a man called Le Chiffre?
Yes. An excellent card player. He once wrote me a fan letter.
Keep your hands there. Perfect. Lovely.
I devoted a chapter to him in my book. His forte is baccarat.
Beside baccarat, he deals in lechery.
Well, nobody's perfect.
Do you think you can win against Le Chiffre?
Well, you'll remember that to operate my system completely free of risk
a stake of £100,000 is required.
Yes, I remember.
Stand still.
I'm gonna give you a 500th at f2.
That's the nicest thing that anyone's ever said to me.
What would you say if I offered to stake you in a game against Le Chiffre?
What?
I put up the money, you play the game and we split 50-50.
- I think I'll go now if you don't mind. - What's wrong?
I enjoyed the earlier part of this evening very much.
I shall always remember the pleasure of your company.
I didn't even mind this dressing-up bit.
But I do mind bloody unnecessary jokes about the one thing I really know well.
Evelyn, I'm serious. It's because you know about baccarat that I'm not joking.
You said you needed £100,000?
- It's yours. - That's fantastic.
But look here. Old Le Chiffre would never agree to play me.
He's read my book. He'd recognise my name.
- No, no. Not any more. - Why?
We have chosen a new name for you.
James Bond.
Welcome to the James Bond 007 training school.
It's a small Minnox camera, isn't it? A friend of mine's got one of those.
- It's Mr Bond, isn't it? - Yes.
If you'd be good enough to sign here, sir.
It's not for me. It's for the Official Secrets Act.
Of course.
Eyes right!
Eyes front!
- Carry on, Sergeant Major. - Yes, sir. Mark time!
Halt! About turn.
You really do stock everything at Harrod's.
Don't pay too much attention. It's all basic stuff.
It'll be out of date by the January sales.
- Good morning, Johnson. - Sir!
May I tell you something?
- I'm being followed. - I know. It's part of the training.
Shadowing people without being seen.
The whole point is I can quite clearly see the man who is shadowing me.
Oh! Him. Don't worry about him. He's not one of our trainees.
- He's our security man. - I see.
Good morning, lnspector. Don't let me interrupt you.
On the command, the head is turned thus,
the hat is aimed thus, the gun is fired thus.
Yes, we're still working on that one.
Now to Agents' Outfitting. Here we are.
- Morning, Q. - Good morning, Fordyce. New man.
If I could bother you for the signature, sir.
I shouldn't use that pen. The moment the nib touches the paper,
it releases a stream of poisonous gas into the writer's eye.
Good heavens! What will they think of next?
I won't be going near that.
I suppose it's useful if you want to send anyone a...
Poison-pen letter.
All our new men say that. I reply ''l don't wish to know that. Kindly leave Ml5.''
Yes, sir. We have a very highly developed sense of humour down here.
It isn't the only thing that's highly developed down here. Fordyce!
- Wristwatch. - Sir.
1965 Rolex Oyster Perpetual.
Date indicator and log table round the outer band.
And a thing that shows you what shape the moon is.
- Now, this is very important. Try it on. - Let me help you.
It's your means of reporting to us and our means of contacting you.
Channel six, Fordyce.
Don't worry too much about him, sir. Channel six it is, sir.
I don't think I know which one is which myself now, sir.
Look at your watch and tell me what you see.
It's five and 20 minutes past 11 . It's the 14th of March and...
I said channel six, Fordyce.
Well, nobody's perfect.
But it's absolutely amazing! I've never seen anything like this.
It's a two-way television and radio wristwatch.
It's an American idea. They got it from one of their comic strips.
- Good heavens. - Ah! Tea.
Three lumps.
It's an incredible thing, this.
Which side do you dress, sir?
- I usually dress away from the window. - It's just some protective clothing, sir.
Let me help you out of your hampering things.
And it is of course Sanforized, sir,
non-iron, and also available in chocolate, oyster or clerical grey.
- It's hand-reefed and double-charvered. - Is it?
- It's a little tight around the... - Poison capsule compartment?
I'm sure we can let it out above the switchblade and Geiger counter.
Do what you can, Fordyce. Your intercom button's in here
with midget transmitters for short-range contacts.
There's an infrared camera, a tape recorder in the shoulder padding,
a Beretta in the buttonhole, and a cute little minigun in the gusset.
Yes. Just one thing.
What happens if I suddenly need to go somewhere?
In this, sir? You'll find safety instructions under the left lapel.
Don't worry. You're in very good hands here.
Now this won't hurt a bit, sir.
- Who g-gave you these orders? - International Mothers' Help, East Berlin.
There it is, Hadley. Our only clue. The voice of a beautiful woman.
We've checked it out, sir. It's a Smersh cover operation, sir.
It supplies baby-sitters and au pair girls to some of the most important families.
Then it must be infiltrated by someone absolutely reliable.
- I hope you weren't thinking of me. - I was thinking of Mata.
- You can't mean Mata Hari, sir. - No, her daughter Mata Bond.
- Mata Bond, sir? - Her mother gave her that name
because I happen to be the child's sort of godfather.
And to think that you knew Mata Hari! She really was one of the greats.
Yes. Great little dancer, terrible spy.
Whereas young Mata is a terrible dancer. Might be a great little spy.