Well, Dmitri, every search for a hero...
must begin with something that every hero requires...
a villain.
Therefore, in the search for our hero, Bellerophon,
we created a monster,
Chimera.
I beg you, Dmitri, come to Sydney...
and accompany me to Atlanta immediately.
However we travel, I must arrive at my destination...
within 20 hours of departure.
Folks, we're two-and-a-half hours from Atlanta.
Look out your window now. We have a great view of the Rocky Mountains.
You keep staring at that watch as if your life depended on it, Doctor.
Oh, yes.
I suppose I'm a bit anxious.
You'll soon be with old friends.
I'm with an old friend now, Dmitri.
I'm sorry it couldn't be under happier circumstances.
I'm sorry too. You are sorry, and I am sorry.
You don't know Gradski thought the world of you.
Did he... know...
before the end that you two had succeeded?
Yes, he knew. Just...
Not in time to save him.
No.
After you've been infected with Chimera for 20 hours, nothing can save you.
Not even Bellerophon.
You can carry them together... safely?
Yes.
And you'll get us to safe place with them in Atlanta, thank God.
This is your captain again. We've experienced a slight...
but abrupt drop in cabin pressure.
As a precaution, I've released the oxygen masks.
- Please put them on and sit back, relax.
There's nothing to worry about.
Are you concerned?
Not so far.
Just put on your oxygen mask. I'll see what's going on.
Okay.
Denver Centre, this is Trans-Pac 2207, 747 heavy.
We're unable to maintain cabin pressurization.
We've initiated a descent to one six thousand.
Captain...
It seems we have a problem, Dmitri.
You keep calling me Dmitri. You really shouldn't.
You are not Dmitri?
No.
Wallis, hold on to this.
Ulrich, remember to pull the...
Remember to pull the NO2 tank and dump it.
All done, chief.
Terrain. Terrain. Pull up. Pull up.
Terrain.
Okay, dive, dive! Checkpoint Charlie in three,
two, one, go!
Terrain. Terrain. Pull up. Pull up.
- Terrain. Terrain. Pull up. Pull up.
Good morning, Mr Hunt.
Your mission, should you choose to accept it,
involves the recovery of a stolen item designated "Chimera."
You may select any two team members,
but it is essential that the third team member be Nyah Nordoff-Hall.
She is a civilian and a highly capable professional thief.
You have 48 hours to recruit Miss Nordoff-Hall...
and meet me in Seville to receive your assignment.
As always, should you or any member of your IMF team be caught or killed,
the secretary will disavow all knowledge of your actions.
And, Mr Hunt, the next time you go on holiday,
please be good enough to let us know where you're going.
This message will self-destruct in five seconds.
If I let you know where I'm going...
then I won't be on holiday.
I see you found it.
What are you doing here?
Think you're the only one who can pick a lock?
Huh. You're not just a pretty face after all.
Do you mind if I'm on top?
No. Either way works for me.
- You'll never find it there. - Damn it!
Find what?
His ex's Bulgari necklace that goes up for auction on Tuesday.
And are you gonna tell me where it is?
Far left.
This is very disconcerting.
Hey, you put me here. I just do as I'm told.
- Right.
Hmm!
Now, who are you, and what's it gonna cost me?
- I wouldn't do that. - What?
- That.
No, no, no. Tranquilo. Tranquilo.
Mr Keys, it is you.
It is Mr Keys, our security engineer. Apologize!
No, no. No need to apologize.
Now, Miss Hall, my associate has your necklace in a very safe place.
But obviously we do feel the alarm should have gone off a little sooner.
- Isn't that right, Miss Hall? - Hmm? Oh, absolutely.
Much, much too long, I'd say.
Under the circumstances, I think we'd recommend...
resetting the sensors to respond to a lighter load.
How do you feel about 40 kilos, Miss Hall?
Perfect.
Shall we?
- Miss Hall. - Hmm?
Haven't you forgotten something?
What are you trying to do, señorita? Rob me?
The thought had crossed my mind.
I'm missing something here, aside from my half-million-pound necklace.
Even after I screwed up the job,
I could've walked out of there with the bloody thing.
At least you walked.
Why did you watch me go through it all?
I wanted to see how good you were. I was hoping we might work together.
Sounds terrific. Muchacho.
Now be serious. Whatever you're talking about,
you couldn't possibly want me after tonight's performance.
- You didn't do that badly. - You apologizing for me?
Quite the gentleman. Gracias.
Not really. I triggered the alarm.
Sorry.
I don't do laundry, cook, or put up with cheeky bastards...
who set me up on their territory so they can poach on mine.
Hola.
Hi. Would you mind slowing down?
Where did you get this number? I don't even have it.
Would you like it?
Pull over and listen to me, will you? Just listen.
- Listen to what? - I need your help.
- And I think you could use mine. - Your help?
- What are you talking about? - I'm talking about Scotland Yard,
Interpol, every Dutch authority.
- I can make them all go away. - Oh, bloody hell.
You're a spy! Well, if you want me,
you've gotta catch me!
Whoa!
You having fun?
Sorry.
- Idiota.
Sorry.
Watch the road. Watch the road.
What's your name?
Ethan Hunt.
Well, Ethan Hunt,
what is it you want to talk to me about?
A lot more than I thought.
Awfully short notice.
Care to wait a decent interval?
Who wants to be decent?
So what have you got against spies?
When they've got your recruiting technique?
This wasn't exactly by the book.
They've got a book for this?
Oh, they've got a book for everything.
So, this thing these blokes pinched...
I don't know that they pinched it.
I don't even know that they're blokes.
What am I doing here?
And I thought I'm supposed to be...
some kind of thief to catch a thief.
So do I... sort of.
Damn, you're beautiful.
Espresso? Cappuccino?
- No, thanks. - Sit down. Sit down.
Festival's a pain in the ass.
Honouring their saints by setting them on fire.
Lets you know what they think of saints, doesn't it?
Damn near set me on fire on my way over here.
Sorry I barged in on your vacation.
I'm sorry I didn't let you know where I was.
Don't be. It wouldn't be a vacation if you did.
You're sorry, and I'm sorry.
Why did you phrase it like that?
- Like what? - "You're sorry; I'm sorry."
You've gotta be kidding.
Well, Dmitri, once again I need your help.
Just as in the old days, huh?
When you saved our lives, saved our very sanity.
Dmitri...
we have this little problem.
Every search for a hero...
must begin with something that every hero requires...
a villain.
Therefore, in the search for our hero, Bellerophon,
we created a monster, Chimera.
I beg you, Dmitri,
come to Sydney and accompany me to Atlanta immediately.
However we travel, I must arrive at my destination...
within 20 hours of departure.
I fear I can entrust this to no one but you.
Dmitri, as we say, I'm sorry and you're sorry.
Do you have any idea what the hell he's talking about?
- An idea? Yeah. - Like?
Like it's a good idea to pick him up in a hurry...
and a bad idea to fly him on a commercial carrier.
- Is he still in Sydney? - Dr Vladimir Nekhorvich is dead.
So is his colleague Gradski, but that happened earlier.
We had Nekhorvich on a flight from Sydney that crashed in the Rockies.
- Dead? - Are you listening to me?
If he didn't want to go anywhere without me,
how did you get him on that flight?
Oh, you were there.
When I couldn't find you, I had to replace you.
Sean Ambrose was the obvious choice.
Now, he doubled you, what, two or three times?
- Twice. - What did you think of him?
We had our reservations about each other.
Isn't it a little late to be asking me that?
No, not necessarily. Airline records...
list a Captain Harold Macintosh as the pilot of flight 2207.
As far as the media and all government agencies are concerned,
Captain Macintosh died on the flight.
But, in fact, he missed it.
He did, however, make the next flight...
in cargo.
Stuffed into a rather small suitcase, considering his size.
Now, someone on that flight planned an operation...
designed to bring the plane down and make it look like an accident.
Someone skilful enough to bring the whole thing off without a hitch.
So there's one thing we know that Ambrose doesn't.
You do think it was Ambrose? You're not surprised?
Sean feels he hasn't done the job unless he leaves a lot of hats on the ground.
The question is why? What was this, uh, Chimera, Nekhorvich was carrying?
Only Ambrose knows that.
In any case, you must recover this... whatever... Chimera, and bring it to us.
In order to do that, I have to figure out how he plans to make money with it.
That is where Miss Hall comes in.
Excuse me?
Miss Hall and Ambrose had a relationship...
which he took very seriously.
She walked away, and he's been wanting her back ever since.
We believe she's our surest and quickest way of locating him.
And then what?
Well, make sure she continues to see him,
gets him to confide in her, and report to you.
You made it sound as if I was recruiting her for her skills as a thief.
Well, then I misled you, or you made the wrong assumption.
Either way, we're asking her to resume a prior relationship,
not do anything she hasn't already done.
Voluntarily, I might add.
No, she's got no training for this kind of thing.
What, to go to bed with a man and lie to him? She's a woman.
She's got all the training she needs.
I don't think I can get her to do it.
- You mean it'll be difficult. - Very.
Well, this is not Mission Difficult, Mr Hunt, it's Mission Impossible.
Difficult should be a walk in the park for you.
I'm open to suggestion.
If you can think of a quicker way, you're welcome to try.
You might take a look at these...
if you have any further qualms about getting her to do thejob.
How many people are capable of something like that?
Sean Ambrose, for one.
Right.
This wasn't what I had in mind, Nyah.
But it is what you'd like me to do.
What? Oh, let my conscience be my guide, is that it?
Something like that.
I don't have a conscience. I'm a bloody thief.
Are you gonna try and force me to do this?
Generally, I don't favour coercing someone,
not when there's a chance my life could end up in their hands.
- Is that the only reason? - Can you think of a better one?
Me? No. But I was just hoping that you might,
thinking that somewhere, this got personal as well as physical!
Would it make you feel any better if I didn't want you to do this?
- Yeah, much. - Then feel better!
You know, Sean will never be anything but suspicious...
if I pitch up saying, "Hey, honey, I'm home."
What wouldn't make him suspicious?
That I needed him in some urgent way.
Destitute. In serious trouble.
The kind I couldn't possibly sort out myself.
Serious trouble, Nyah, is something that I can always arrange.
This transponder chip is completely untraceable.
It transmits your location to a satellite...
which can be read by only this computer.
We can then track you to within three feet.
Anywhere.
Since your arrest, I've been sending news bulletins...
to every law enforcement agency.
I know Sean Ambrose,
and I guarantee that after that airline crash,
he's monitoring every one of them.
He knows you're there.
And he has the means to get you out.
Nyah...
I'm not gonna lose you.
Ethan Hunt? G'day, mate. I'm William Baird. Billy's okay.
Anything you need me to get, move or watch, just let me know.
I'll have a look around.
- Shit. - Yes, it is.
This ain't funny.
I just bought these $800 Gucci shoes,
and you got me in a helicopter with this man?
Computer's up. We got her.
Let's put in the coordinates and get a visual.
Visuals aren't coming up.
The satellite doesn't work as fast as I do.
Yeah, I heard about you, Luther. Just wanna say it's an honour...
and a pleasure to be working with you blokes.
Come on. Isn't there any way we can speed this up?
With what? This is the only computer that'll do this.
Ohhh!
Ethan, here we go.
Aye.
Now, there's a bloke who knows how to give a proper welcome.
Don't get me wrong, mate. You were very friendly also.
- Is it him? - It's him, Billy.
- So we've got him! - We don't know what we've got.
'Cause we don't know what he's got,
where he's got it or what he's doing in Sydney with it.
- Not much luggage. - I left in a bit of a hurry.
I'm incredibly grateful, Sean.
How in the world did you find me?
How I usually find you, Nyah.
Magic.
Mmm, mmm! No flies on her.
No bugs, either. No transmissions.
She's clean.
All cats are.
- Your room? - Mmm.
- And my room? - Hmm.
She did it. She's in the compound.
Yeah? We just rolled up a snowball and tossed it into hell.
Now we'll see what chance it has.
Try it on.
Go ahead.
I'm dying to see if I remembered your size.
You're not interested in seeing how it looks?
Oh, I am.
Later.
Every search for a hero...
must begin with something that every hero requires...
a villain.
Therefore, in the search for our hero, Bellerophon,
we created a monster, Chimera.
Nekhorvich was a molecular biologist.
Why is he going on about an old Greek myth?
Nekhorvich specialized in recombining DNA molecules.
In the myth,
Bellerophon was a prince who killed the Chimera.
A monster with the head of a lion...
and the tail of a serpent...
who plagued the ancient world.
I think Nekhorvich created a monster virus named Chimera...
and the antivirus to kill it,
named Bellerophon.
That simple, huh?
Why not?
£37 million.
Now, that's a promising bid for Nekhorvich's work.
Don't look so worried, Hugh. We're halfway there.
We'll need this at the track...
if we're gonna get the other half.
Well, then... sorted.
Not everything.
Why do you think she's really here?
From her point of view or mine?
Well, she wasn't exactly gagging for it...
when she left you six months ago.
The question is, do you trust her?
One considers her timing, of course.
Getting nicked within a week of the plane going down.
Suggestive, even borderline suspicious,
but hardly conclusive.
Well, you've thought about it, at any rate.
Tell me, Hugh,
you don't exactly hang on Nyah's every word and gesture, do you?
That's a fairly ratty nail that.
Sean, please!
Suppose she is some sort of Trojan horse sent in by IMF to spy on us.
Why should I deny myself the pleasure of a ride or two?
Or don't you think I can learn more from her than she can from me?
I do! I do! I do! I do!
- Now, Hugh,
you must realize that some of us...
have the burden of sex to deal with.
And I may or may not know why she thinks she's here,
but I'm willing to take the risk, because, Hugh,
- I am gagging for it.
Come on!
- Darling! You won!
- I suppose I did. - What made you pick that nag?
He's never won a bloody thing.
- "Thief in the Night." - Say no more.
I'm, uh...
I'm off to grab a drink. Do you still favour the Bellinis?
Mmm.
"Naturally Vain."
Pardon me?
Naturally Vain... in the fourth.
Check her out. She's due.
You can speak as if I'm right by your side.
Where are you?
Mounting enclosure just off the track, 2:00.
How's it going?
Just like old times.
Just like old times?
Just about.
Tell me who you've run into at Ambrose's.
Near as I can tell, there's about a half dozen other blokes about the place.
Maybe more. Hugh Stamp, old friend of Sean's.
He's the only one I recognize. And a bit of a creep and then some.
We know him. He's over your left shoulder, looking at you right now.
Ambrose has photos of newspapers with money piled on them.
Thirty seven million on the London Times.
What's that about?
Bids from possible Chimera buyers.
Ambrose is meeting some bloke in the bar.
Big bloke. Ginger hair. They're into something.
-Who is this guy? - Checking now, Ethan.
John McCloy, CEO Biocyte Pharmaceuticals.
In 1989, acquired Biocyte in a hostile takeover.
He was Nekhorvich's boss.
Right. He worked for him as a research scientist at Biocyte.
Ambrose is showing something to McCloy on a digital camera.
Whatever McCloy's looking at, he's not happy about it.
Ambrose just pulled...
the camera's memory card and put it into an envelope.
Put it in his inner left jacket pocket.
Confirm left jacket pocket.
Roger that.
Nyah. Nyah, Ambrose is on his way back to you.
- There's an envelope inside... - His left jacket pocket.
That's right.
- Where do I meet you? - Betting table 12, off the paddock.
- Are you sure you're up to this? - I'll muddle through.
- There you are! - See anything you like?
Well, yeah. "Naturally Vain."
But they're about to close the betting, and I haven't a bean.
- Nyah! - Would you mind terribly?
Not at all. But, um, you are gonna pay for it.
- And with interest. - I have no doubt.
Hold on.
Put down a thousand for me.
- To win? - What else?
- Billy, make sure Nyah's not followed. - No worries, mate.
Luther, digital camera ready to transmit.
Betting table 12.
- There you go. - Fine.
- Oh, sorry about that, mate.
- Say again?
Whatever you're about, in future, watch your step.
- Never know who you might run into.
- So where's the loo?
- Thanks, mate.
How'd you do?
Don't turn around.
I managed.
You turned around.
What are you gonna do? Spank me?
I'm booted up. Go, Ethan.
Are you getting this?
"Sergei Gradski:
20 hours after exposure. "
God.
Stamp's out of the loo.
He's coming out of the tunnel, heading your way, mate.
- I want you out of Ambrose's place. - What are you talking about?
What's happened? What did you see?
Okay, he's coming up behind you, Ethan.
You've done your job. I want you out of Australia.
- Thirty steps. - How do you suggest I go about it?
He's touched your heart. You need to think it over.
Fifteen, fourteen, twelve, eleven.
I want you out of there now. Give me the earpiece.
- Nine, Ethan. Eight. - If you don't get out of there,
I'm coming in and getting you out.
Ethan, get out of there!
You placed your bet, ma'am?
- Just.
Horses are ready to race.
- They're off!
Come on! Come on! Your nag's making a run for it on the outside!
Come on! Come on!
You picked another winner!
I thought you were going to dinner.
Hugh, take care of the Nekhorvich memory card.
Where is it?
In the envelope in my jacket pocket.
My right jacket pocket.
We at our state-of-the-art solar-powered Biocyte building,
recognize that eternal vigilance is the price of health,
whether it's funding the teaching centre at the Royal Prince Edward Hospital,
removing aerosol products from the market...
or braving the influenza quarantine at Bruny Island late last month.
At Biocyte, your life is our life's work.
We've got an opportunity here.
I'm not going to miss it.
George, take me home.
George?
George!
What the hell?
George!
George! George!
Sean?
- Shhh.
Easy.
Oh, Ethan.
Are you okay?
Yeah, I am now.
- What is this? - A visit from an old friend.
You crashedon the plane. You're dead.
Dead, certainly. But dead is a little extreme.
On the other hand, when my colleague Gradski had your pulse...
and your blood pressure, he had less than a day to live.
You are infected with Chimera, my friend.
No use, my friend.
The medical staff wants no part of this.
Doctors don't fancy the idea of dying any more than anybody else.
How could I possibly be infected?
That's exactly what Gradski said 27 hours before he died.
You've got the antidote, you miserable bastard!
- You stole Bellerophon! All of it! - My, my, my.
I need it! I need it now, you whacked-out Russian Gypsy!
And what about Gradski, who you deliberately infected with Chimera?
How was I to know they needed...
to be treated with Bellerophon within 20 hours?
- By asking me. - You still don't get it, do you?
I needed to know just how bad the disease was in the real world,
not just the lab.
You were genetically splicing together strains of influenza...
to create a cure for all influenzas.
But you were also creating a disease so terrible in Chimera,
the cure would be priceless.
I needed Chimera in order to peddle Bellerophon.
It's not that difficult to understand, is it?
Look, I've got the virus. You've got the cure.
I need them both.
Time was a shot of penicillin would knock off...
every bloody bug in the zoo. Not any more.
If I couldn't make money killing the microscopic little shits out there,
well, you'd help me put one out there that I could make money on.
Well, there it is. I've confessed.
I, John C. McCloy,
am in business to make money.
Now, forget any deal you may have made with that thug Ambrose.
Get me treated, and let's go back to work.
You know,
I think it's a little late for that.
Do give my regards to Gradski...
if you see him.
Well...
I've heard...
all I need to hear.
Nyah...
it's imperative that we do nothing to alarm Ambrose.
What?
You told me to get out of there as soon as possible.
- I thought you were here to collect me! - Shh, shh, shh, shh, shh!
Listen to me. There's no time to talk.
It is critical, absolutely critical,
that you do whatever Ambrose asks.
Do you understand me?
Don't worry.
It will all be over... very soon.
That's a promise.
Go on.
Go on. Off you go.
Luther, we know this much. Nekhorvich gets on a plane...
to go to the Center for Disease Control in Atlanta.
He's carrying a virus he created, Chimera,
and the cure for that virus, Bellerophon.
Ambrose doesn't have the virus.
That's why Ambrose needs McCloy.
So we go into Biocyte, kill Chimera,
Ambrose has a cure without a disease,
and we're home free.
You were right. Hunt stung McCloy tonight.
So he knows.
He'll be going into Biocyte.
Good. Then we'll know where he'll be, don't we?
Well done, Hugh.
Well done.
Oi! You're home, mate. Home.
Where's George?
My regular driver? Where is he?
He's gone home sick. Touch of the flu.
- Is the building up and running yet? - Mmm.
- That's not exactly it. - Sorry, but this is a Biocyte facility.
Their storage structure. I'll have it up in a minute.
- Okay, take a look at this. - Start from the inside out.
All storage and production of Chimera is done here,
in this lab on the 42nd floor.
Hunt's target will be the Chimera,
stored and manufactured at Biocyte on the 42nd floor.
If you look at Hunt's operational history, and I have,
he invariably favours misdirection over confrontation.
He'll never break into Biocyte from the bottom where security is heaviest.
No garage entrances.
Lobby's protected by five guards on rotating patrol.
Not goin' in from the ground. Show me the atrium.
The atrium? One of a kind.
Runs down through the centre of the building.
Provides 24-hour natural light via mirrors and daylight storage cells.
Optimal growing conditions for the virus.
Ends in a glass floor which doubles as part of the lab ceiling.
Uh-uh. The atrium roof closes at sundown.
And if the louvres are up for more than 40 seconds at night,
the civil emergency alarms are tripped.
Those, even I can't stop.
Ethan, we have a total of 40 seconds...
to get you in and the cables out.
No, Hunt will prefer to enter Biocyte somewhere from the top...
where security is minimal.
He'll undoubtedly engage in some aerobatic insanity...
before he'll risk harming a hair on a security guard's head.
- Check-check. Got copy? - You're five-by-five.
Luther, how we doin'?
Not there yet, Ethan. I'll give you the word.
Billy, ready to go?
Okay, package away in five...
I'm not ready. The louvres aren't moving.
Come on, Luther! We gotta go!
Wait, there's a glitch in the access code.
Luther, we're out of time. On the count.
Please, baby, open up, open up.
- Five, four, - Come on!
three, two, one!
- I'm going now! - Ethan, wait!
Twenty five, twenty four, twenty three,
twenty two, twenty one, twenty.
Ethan, you've got 19 seconds to clear the cable.
Okay, retracting cable!
Come on!
Nine, eight, seven, six,
five, four, three, two...
Cable's clear!
Transponder activated. Reading package and cable clear.
He'll breach the lab at the only possible time,
whether you break in from the ground or the roof.
It's 2300 hours, one minute...
when the air filtration generators will cover the sound of Hunt's break-in...
and the rotating guards make the building vulnerable...
to our break-in from below.
Ethan, the generator's about to go active.
Just a friendly reminder. We'll be out of contact for eight minutes.