This is reckless. Yes. But do-able.
Brilliant operation, Mr Carter.
It's not over.
Sorry, if I float an idea by definition it is an option.
Feel wonderfully alive, do you?
Like death actually.
Things are bad enough, Juliet.
Short-term chaos for long-term stability.
Let me deal with this my way.
Clive, are you sure?
Can I say anything to change your mind?
I could use your help in fighting them.
Two men against a new world order?
Please.
Bringing down communism was child's play compared to fighting this. . . velvet fascism.
No, I know when to fold.
My cottage shall do me just fine.
You've been doing this longer than any of us.
I can't imagine you, giving it all up
just like that.
What are you going to do with yourself?
Don't worry about me, Harry.
I'll find better ways to keep myself amused.
You didn't need to do this.
You didn't need to involve them.
They're my sister's children, for God's sake.
We need to make sure we have your full co-operation.
What do you want me to do?
Say goodbye.
It won't even make it to the front page. Ten grand? Ten grand?
What's she been smoking? She shagged a footballer, for God's sake, she didn't find the cure for cancer.
Two grand. Non-negotiable.
End of story.
HORN BLARES
How do you want to do this?
As painlessly as possible.
But before we do that, I need something from you.
Shall we?
Hello.
Hello?
Clive?
Stop, stop, stop!
Let's get out of here.
Somewhere among these bright young things is your new field officer, Mr Carter
and your additional officers, Miss Evershed.
Courtesy of the Home Secretary's timely recruitment drive.
Shortlists by tomorrow morning please.
We're getting first dibs, ahead of other sections.
Ach! Six languages, a double first from Bristol, and hobbies include kite-surfing.
Ooh, cute, too.
Better brush up your CVs, boys.
I thought we had vetting consultants -
so we didn't go through the sordid details of each candidate.
I like to know the sordid details of anyone I'm going to be working with.
Within professional boundaries, of course.
Of course.
These are the pick of the crop. They had the best psychometric tests
which our esteemed HR specialist. . . Debra Langham.
.will be with us tomorrow to explain.
She can start with the word psychometric.
She'll be here in the morning. At 9am, actually.
Which will give you plenty of time to sift through the dross, to choose
which are the most stellar candidates to join our illustrious brotherhood.
What? No, I, I was just thinking of "clique" or, or "circle" might be more,
inclusive, don't you think? No, I like "brotherhood".
Anyone else have a problem with my way of expressing myself today?
Harry, you need to see this.
Well, details are still sketchy but what we do know is that Clive McTaggart,
a former high ranking member of the intelligence services, was found dead at his home this morning
from an apparent suicide. Mr McTaggart's sister has confirmed
that he had been fighting cancer for the past year
and that the pain had become increasingly difficult to bear.
Are you OK? Yes.
How well did you know him?
As well as anyone, I suppose, which isn't saying very much.
We worked together several times over the years.
Although he wasn't exactly the most gregarious man I ever met.
He wasn't married? No.
Probably considered himself "married" to the service.
Oh, that's all right then.
I was worried he'd died alone and lonely.
If you feel like you want to talk to someone. . .
. I don't have any plans later.
Thank you, Ruth, but I've got to return a few calls.
Nothing like a sudden death to bring old friends out of the woodwork.
The Falklands, it's got to be the Falklands.
No. Moscow, he knew what Brezhnev's flunkies were up to before they did.
No, no you're both wrong. His finest hour was in recruiting yours truly.
I knew he had to have a black mark somewhere.
To have achieved all that and end up like he did.
That's our lot in life, isn't it?
To toil away in the darkness and keep our ever-shrinking realm
out of harm's way, before withering away in some god-forsaken cottage.
I'm talking about his state of mind, his disappointment.
We let him down.
Times change, Harry.
He fought a different kind of enemy, one that had a face.
You ever feel the face you're looking for is staring back at you from the mirror?
Unless I've come back from some war-torn hellhole with the mother of all tans.
Were you surprised?
When you heard he'd killed himself?
I know bowel cancer can be extremely painful.
Well, I think once the cancer had spread to his liver, he knew it was a matter of months, weeks even.
You knew about that, right?
Of course.
SHE SCREAMS
Ssh. Gary? GARY! What was that all about?
What are you doing? ! I'm so sorry, Ruthie.
I didn't know who else to turn to. I'm in trouble.
Why am I not surprised?
If this isn't hugely important, I hope your passport's up to date.
Harry, it's me. Ruth.
Ruth? Yes.
What time is it? Late. I'm sorry to be calling you
at this hour, but. . . Are you all right?
Me? Yes, I'm fine, thanks.
Well, that's a. . .
that's good.
Harry, I was just wondering.
I was just wondering if perhaps you could come over?
Come over? Now?
Well, yes. . .
To your place?
Yes. No?
I mean, there's, um. . .
What?
There's someone I need you to meet.
Oh.
You're sure they were British?
Put it this way - they weren't Al-Qaeda.
I don't understand what you were doing there.
Forgive my scepticism, but of all the reporters out there,
why would Clive McTaggart call a reporter
from a tabloid newspaper that has a, shall we say, less than exemplary reputation? What, me or the tabloid?
He knew I wouldn't back off the story.
And exactly how did he know that?
About ten years ago, I got wind of a story he was involved in.
The government didn't want it publicised.
That was when we first met.
It took a lot of convincing and, er, cajoling to get me to kill it.
But you did. Kill the story? Well, I liked the guy.
Besides, it wasn't that great a story,
and this way, he owed me one.
Tell me what he told you, exactly.
Zulu Papa Uniform Three Seven One.
Connecting you.
Is it done? No, sir.
He's not alone. He's with a spook.
You need to hear this.
He said he was getting more despondent about the way
our political system's degenerated, you know.
The lies, spin, Iraq, the whole "politics of fear" thing.
Dirty bombs and all the other fantasies this government keeps
coming up with to justify their existence and make themselves look like self-righteous heroes.
He called it. . . Velvet fascism.
I know, although I doubt the people of Manhattan
would necessarily agree.
It's Harry Pearce.
Oh, please. 9/11 was the best thing that ever happened to you people.
The line between fear and complacency is a thin one.
But fear's much better when it comes to getting votes, isn't it?
Anyway, he decided to let the cat out the bag.
He told me he'd spent the last year writing a book.
He said he thought the country could use an injection of hard truths.
He told me he wasn't going to leave anything out.
Regardless of the Official Secrets Act.
That's what he wanted me for.
Anything can come out if you're willing to take the flak.
It's one of the marvels of the internet.
Yeah, once something's out there. . .
it is out.
It takes on a life of its own.
Did he give it to you? Don't bother.
I'm sure that little bestseller's long gone by now.
It's been backed up. Maybe he emailed it to his lawyer, or. . .
McTaggart was from another age. He didn't even own a computer.
He was strictly a pen and paper man.
Oh, Christ. Now there was something on the table, right next to him.
Like a big notebook. . .
black, leather bound.
You can't stay here. Why not? I'm safe, nobody knows I'm here.
It's out of the question.
Tell me you're not carrying a phone?
Yes, why? Give it to me.
They could have tracked you to this house. How did you get here?
We're losing our window of opportunity!
I bussed it to the city, then I got a tube here. . .
My car is still at his house. Hmm, so they already know who you are.
Ruth, you can't stay here either.
Adam can take you to a safe house.
What do you want us to do, sir?
What do you mean? Sir?
You gonna. . .you gonna protect me?
Sir? Stand down.
Stand down and get out of there.
Understood.
I never expected something like this, not from Clive.
Of all the ill-conceived things to do.
I'll call you from the safe house. Yeah.
I spoke to Special Branch.
The only car at the house was McTaggart's.
OK, we need to know who else knew about this book besides Hicks.
Clive wasn't an idiot.
This isn't something he would have shared. Hicks might have.
Do you think he might have?
No, I doubt it. If anyone knows the value of a great scoop, it's Gary.
The real question is whether this is the work
of some lone black-ops psycho who doesn't want his ekeletons uncovered,
or something bigger.
Except Clive told him he wasn't going to leave anything out.
One line about a sexed-up report, nearly brought the government down.
We're not talking about one line. This is straight from the horse's mouth.
This is not about some lone spook wanting to stay out of the limelight.
This could be a disaster, especially now.
I want the bastards who did this, even if they work in this building.
Now use extreme caution and watch your backs.
These people have access to the same toys we do.
Erm no. . .Well it. . . his face was different, different size.
No, his mouth was sort of different.
Different how?
I only saw him for a few seconds, I didn't date him, for God's sake.
Sorry.
McTaggart's phone line is clean.
If they had a bug on it, it's been pulled. What about his mobile?
I can't tell you if it had anything planted in it without seeing it.
There are other ways someone could have been listening in
without tampering with the handset itself. GCHQ.
I'll see what I can dig up.
We've got a couple of faces to work with.
Ruth's figuring out a way of running them through our database without raising too many flags.
I ran a trace on Hicks's mobile.
All the numbers trying to contact him today are on his SIM card except for this one.
They've tried four times this morning.
You got a name? Joanna Portman.
It's registered to an address in Camden Town.
Hicks says he's never heard of her.
We took a little uninvited tour inside her home computer.
Whoever lives there has been busy "Googling" our Mr Hicks.
Look into it.
Where are you going? I've got some cages to rattle. Harry!
Are you sure that's a good idea? What if they tried talking him out of it?
What if there was no other way? There's always another way.
Clive McTaggart had more integrity than any man I've ever known.
I can't let his murder go unanswered. I owe him that.
Clive's death really got to you?
I just hope I don't end up spending my twilight years in bitter disappointment.
I didn't realise you were that close to him.
We were the occasional drink, a meal now and then at his club.
Hah! Not that dreary place.
He liked it. He said it was the one place he could trust not to bend with the wind.
When he left, he told me he'd finally have time to read.
And to write.
He certainly had enough material to come up with a cracking novel.
I think an autobiography was more what he had in mind.
He'd have to leave out all the juicy bits.
Not necessarily. If he wanted things to come out.
We both know it's virtually impossible to suppress anything in this day and age.
And Clive had nothing to lose.
Well, I suppose if he was gonna write a kill and tell book,
he's done us all a huge favour by dying before finishing it.
"Roger Thornhill"? Cary Grant "North by Northwest".
His best role I'd say. Now use these from now on.
In case your old ones are compromised.
Are you ready? Let's go.
This is Debra Langham, our recruitment consultant. Adam Carter.
Fiona. I trust you've drawn up a shortlist?
I'm afraid we're going to have to reschedule.
Unless you can deal with it? Great, thanks.
It's the one with the blue door.
According to the woman next door, there are two girls sharing it.
Recent grads.
My kind of stakeout.
What?
I love a man in uniform.
I'm here to read the gas meter.
No, no it's no trouble at all, I'm happy to do it.
OK.
Thank you.
Bye.
What?
Gas. . . meter. . .
This should only take a minute. OK, come in.
All right, that takes care of the desk officers. What about the field officer's prospects?
I wanted to get your input on the candidates first.
You know, get a clearer understanding of the test results.
See who you thought would be the best candidates.
It's just it's, er,
it's far more sophisticated than we expected. All right.
Let's look at what you've got.
I'll be right back.
Big night? Flatmate just landed a big job in the city.
Lucky her. Is that what you do as well?
Me? God, no. I mean, yeah, it pays really well, but there are funkier ways to earn a living.
Yeah, tell me about it.
I didn't mean it like that.
At least you're not cooped up in an office all day, right?
And you get to see how messy people's houses are. It's a charmed life.
Oh, no. Woh.
What do you do for a living then? I'm a journalist, well, an aspiring journalist, I'm job-hunting.
Good luck.
Thanks, I'm going to need it if they're gonna return my calls.
Everyone's too busy, right?
Yeah, I guess so.
Well, at least this time they didn't say "We'll keep your details on file. "
This is pretty serious stuff.
Yeah? I can do gossipy too.
Whatever it takes. No. Don't sell yourself short.
You think? Yeah, there's plenty of other people who'll do that for you.
I should get going. Erm, this is going to sound really stupid but, erm. . .
Well, I get the feeling that there's a lot more to you than. . .
Just reading the gas meter?
Yeah.
Sorry, I'm very nosey.
I'd better go. Meter's running? Yes, something like that.
A waste of time - just a kid, looking for a job as a journalist.
Let's go and check out McTaggart's.
I brought you some fresh coffee.
Thanks. So, what's the news? Have they figured out who they are yet?
Erm, we're working on it.
Well, that's it? That's it.
Sorry.
What are you doing? I'm just keeping busy.
Idle hands and all that.
Can I have a look? Oh, it's just the usual rubbish.
You're writing about what happened?
Are you insane? Well, what else am I gonna do?
You can't expect me to sit on a story like this.
This is the story of a lifetime. A very short lifetime if you carry on like this.
I'm safe here, aren't I? Of course but writing about it isn't part of the deal.
Well, why not? I can't use my phone.
I'm not even allowed to call the office.
I have to be escorted to have a smoke.
I'm going nuts here!
But, if I write it, once it's out there, they can't hurt me any more.
What story are you talking about exactly?
You've got no other witnesses.
It's nothing more than hearsay.
Yeah, but you know once you get to the bottom of it, we'll have our proof, won't we?
I'll get someone to drive you back to the safe house.
You'll be more comfortable there.
Gas Stream, could I help you?
Yeah hello, someone was just here to read the meter,
and it's now making this really weird ticking noise.
I was hoping he could come back and take a look.
His name's Roger Thornhill.
I could have an engineer come tomorrow between 8 and 1.
Wouldn't it be easier to have him come back now?
He's probably just down the road.
I can't interfere with Mr Thornhill's rounds.
Will tomorrow be convenient?
Hm, you know what? Forget it.
It's fine, it's fine.
Malcolm?
I just took a call from Jo Portman.
It seems that Adam made quite an impression.
I'll let him know. What?
It seems you have a secret admirer.
Come on.
Doesn't look like there are any mics, no hidden cameras.
If they're keeping tabs on him, they didn't leave any calling cards.
I wouldn't be too sure about that.
They had a fibre optic in there.
That's not something they picked up at Argos.
Sorry. Erm, I'm going to have to grab him from you.
You got a smoke? No.
Yeah, can I double check the number I have for him then?
Every time I try ringing I get this weird tone.
I see, OK. How about if I come over and drop my articles off for him?
Oh, this is crazy.
Look, take me to the newsroom.
If I don't write this story, somebody else is going to.
And that is not going to happen. So, just take me to the office.
I can't do that. I have my orders.
I'm not interested in your bloody orders.
Just take me to the office.
Mr Hicks!
Hicks has done a runner.
Call Katie, tell her I'm on my way up.
What do you think you're doing? I can't sit on this any more.
I need to write it. It's the only way to get them off my case.
Is that what you think? Once it's out there,
there's no point in them trying to shut me up.
Of course there is.
It'll take them about ten seconds to wipe out your credibility,
then they'll have you sucking on the inside of a plastic bag
just like McTaggart because you couldn't deal with the heartache.
Come on.
Yeah, we've got him. It's under control.
All right, see you at the safe house.
Hi, this is going to sound stupid, but I need you to follow that car,
the blue Peugeot.
Look, my husband's in that car, and I think he's cheating on me.
I have to know the truth. Please. I'll pay you extra.
Thanks.
Malcolm. Any news?
We've recovered some CCTV footage from a house on the road near McTaggart's.
The camera covers the road and we got lucky.
We've got Hicks's car heading there, and 42 minutes later, his car on the way back.
Can you make out who's driving it? No, we're enhancing it.
There was another car following it closely.
Blue Mercedes? Precisely.
Like the one Hicks saw parked in McTaggart's drive.
Can you make out the plates? Yep.
X492 YCY. But they're fakes.
They've been cloned off some poor sod's Vauxhall down in Devon.
OK. Let me know if the enhancements work out, yeah.
I take it we're not talking about boob jobs? Hey! What a. . .
Surprise? Coincidence, maybe? I was going to say "small world".
So? Read any good meters lately?
Told you, you were too good for your job.
What do you mean? Don't be coy with me.
I want to know why you were sniffing around my house
and why you whisked Gary Hicks away from his office. You've been following me?
I don't know what's going on,
but I'm guessing it has something to do with some dirt that Hicks
has dug up on someone.
Who are you, really?
All right. . .
I work for a private security firm,
and Hicks,
you know Hicks, he has a talent for digging up the muck.
So you're like a bodyguard? Yeah.
Hicks is working on a story, he's annoyed a few people.
So we're just babysitting him until the threat passes. Cool!
I still want the story.
You're too late. Hicks has already written it.
It's in the papers tomorrow.
Sorry.
You still did a great job sussing it out.
I'll let him know.
I imagine he'll pick up his phone after that. Look after yourself.
I'm off. I take it your friend is behaving?
Zaf's babysitting him. He's got things under control.
How did you ever get mixed up with someone like Hicks?
He wasn't always like that.
He used to write the most brilliantly incisive pieces
about just about anything. He wrote about Kosovo - he cared.
Then he realised people were more interested in
who Sven-Goran Eriksson was scrumping that week.
Harry, do you really think we should be doing this?
What?
These people are willing to do whatever it takes to suppress it.
Someone's got to draw the line somewhere.
I. . . I understand that and,
I know Clive was your friend but. . .
It isn't just about Clive's murder,
or about the book.
Hicks chose me.
He, he showed up at my doorstep and there's nothing we can do about that.
You can't really think that they're going. . .
You call me when you get to the safe house. Right.
Do you know who's taking over from you?
Adam's coming back later.
It's all for a worthy cause, though, right?
I'm making some tea.
Er no, thanks, darling.
Hi, Katie, it's me. Listen, I got a story.
I can't tell you what it's about, but I promise you it's huge.
Just don't run the presses yet. OK?
Get me someone I can dictate it to.
Call you back as soon as I can.
Call sign? Zulu Papa Uniform Three Seven One.
Connecting. Have you found Hicks? Yes, sir.
Well, then, take him out.
There are enough people out there who'd love to see him dead.
What about the officers? Do your best to avoid collateral damage, but make sure you get him.
CAR ALARM SOUNDS
Get him down, now!
MULTIPLE GUNFIRE
CAR ALARM CONTINUES
POLICE SIRENS GET LOUDER
I thought you were going home.
It's Friday night.
It's not that I want to encourage this sort of behaviour,
but you probably saved their lives.
I guess Hicks has to give me a job now?
Come on, let's get you home.
Wait.
There's more?
There's more.
I put my phone in their car.
Hicks is still alive. We had to abort.
I'm getting rid of the car now.
Using the signals from Miss Portman's phone
we were able to plot the killer's route to Bermondsey
where we found the car, burnt to a crisp,
erasing any forensic clues as to their identity.
But it wasn't a total loss.
We looked for any other mobiles following the same trajectory and crossing the cells at the same time.
Unfortunately, there were several others following the same routing.
But we had something else to work with.
We looked for a match with signals coming from
the area around McTaggart's house at the time of the faked suicide.
We found one match.
These are the numbers called from that mobile.
Whoever these guys were, they weren't big talkers.
Now the last one is the number called from the car
after the attempted break-in at the safe house.
A number I believe we are all too familiar with.
Call sign. As you all know, without the recipient's call sign,
there's no way of determining who they were calling.
MACHINE: You have two messages. Message one.
Zula Papa Uniform Three Seven One.
CAR HORN
Just hang on. Hicks is still alive.
I must have hit speed dial by mistake when I was putting my phone in their car
and when I got home I had a 20-minute travel-log waiting for me.
Have you always been like this?
So do I have to keep calling you Roger Thornhill or are you going to tell me your real name?
It's Nick. Nick Harding.
You don't really work for a security company, do you?
Not exactly, no.
This is where you say goodbye and I never get to see you again?
I'm afraid so.
You were great.
Just try not to share what happened with too many people, will you?
My lips are sealed.
Here's the transcript from Joanna Portman's answer machine.
We've got the call sign.
'Call sign. ' Zulu Papa Uniform Three Seven One.
'Connecting you. '
Yes?
It's Woodring.
Is he working alone,
or was he just taking orders?
There's only one way to find out.
Zula Papa Uniform Three Seven One. Just hang on.
Hicks is still alive.
We had to abort,
we took a hit.
You people at "5" really have this obsession with showing off
how good you are at sneaking into other people's homes.
Did you try to get him to change his mind?
Do you know anyone who ever managed to talk Clive McTaggart out of anything? Did you try?
Come on, Harry. He had no incentive to be reasonable. He was dying.
The cancer had spread to his liver.
You didn't even try, did you?
So where does it stop?
Clive? Hicks? My people? My team?
Good God, Roy.
What did Clive have on you that made you completely lose your mind?
Well, I'm flattered, Harry. Really.
You think this is just about me?
You think this is about saving my own arse?
That's always been your problem, Harry, hasn't it?
You've never been a team player.
That's why you could never be part of the club.
I don't want to be part of any team that sanctions killing off its own.
Our job, Harry, yours and mine, is to neutralise anything or anyone
that can undermine our country's security.
Clive McTaggart was a clear and present danger.
He may have been living in virtual exile, but he still knew
everything that was going on.
His revelations would have been devastating.
They would have weakened us at a time when we need to be strong.
He had to be stopped.
You can still make things right.
All it takes is one phone call.
You want me to give you Hicks?
He's got to go, Harry.
I can do it with you or without you.
I want Hicks, Harry. Make it happen.
"You're not part of the club. " He actually said that?
This complicates things.
We don't know who they are, or how many.
Harry, this is getting out of hand.
You need to tell the JIC.
Opening a can of worms which would lead straight to the front pages. We don't need that.
Besides, one of them could be on the committee. What about Juliet?
Her cage was rattled. It did the trick.
If only we had the book.
That one, I think.
Well, think carefully. Your life may depend upon it.
That one.
What about the handwriting?
His suicide note.
Is it enough? Plenty.
Do it.
I'd have preferred to have given Malcolm more time.
And risk another close call like the other night?
You're putting your life on the line based on nothing more than a guess.
I'm going to be late.
I want you to call off the dogs.
What are you talking about?
This.
Where did you find this?
I spoke to Roy Woodring.
You were in on it. You had Clive killed, because of this.
Are you wired?
No. It's just you and me.
Roy found out about the book.
He came to see me about it. We had to do something.
He said he'd take care of it. I didn't know he'd go that far.
But you and your little cabal were happy to see him get away with it.
We've all got a job to do, Harry.
Sometimes it's not a particularly pleasant one, but it has to be done.
Clive was brilliant at what he did,
but his job, his duty, to you, to me, to the whole country,
was to take his secrets and any misgivings he had to the grave.
Instead, he chose to stab us in the back. We're better than that.
You know what's going on out there. We're living in dangerous times. We are better than that.
We should be.
But sometimes we have no choice.
I didn't want him killed.
But I have no tolerance for weaklings
who decide to cleanse their soul before they meet their maker,
with little regard to the mess they're going to leave behind them.
What are you going to do with that?
I'll hang on to it.
You will take care of Roy.
You'll find some dark rock for him to crawl under.
Oh, come on, Harry. This is non-negotiable, Juliet.
Fine. You'll make sure nothing like this ever happens again.
And you'll leave Hicks alone.
Since when did you care about a maggot like that?
You'll call off the dogs. This ends here, now.
Unless you want to see this hit the presses.
You wouldn't do that. Try me.
You can't write this.
I can't not write it. You can't write it now.
If you do, I won't help you again.
And mark my words, you will need help.
I thought McTaggart was your friend. We're talking about losing a battle, not a war.
This isn't over.
And, when the time comes, it just might be handy to have you around.
Why not? Look at those eyes.
Seven languages, Zaf. You can't argue with that.
Plus, we'd have one less harassment suit to deal with.
They all have plusses and minuses, but we have to make some decisions.
What about you, Adam?
Adam?
As long as the vetting doesn't flag anything too outrageous, the job's yours if you want it.
You're kidding? No.
Seriously?
Seriously.
It's not like a lifetime commitment or anything?
No, you do it for as long as you want to,
but you've gotta want to.
This is insane.
But can you think of a "funkier" way to make a living?
"If you're reading this note I am probably already long gone,
"not I suspect as a result of this dreadful illness.
"I'm afraid I'm going to have to burden you one last time with this.
"I only ask that you do with it as you see fit. Yours, Clive. "
Nasim Malik is one of the key terror suspects we are still holding without charge.
What you want me to do? I want you to release him.
Get out of the way or I shoot the boy.
You're playing a dangerous game, Harry.
You lose Malik and we go down with you.
It's a risk I'm prepared to take.
We'll be accomplices to murder.
No bullets below four feet. There's a kid.
Zafar, this is Harry. I'm ordering you to shoot the subject.
Shoot him.
Subtitled by BBC Broadcast. Conversion for the forom by reirei.