02x04 - Cicada

[bunniefuu]

Got a call to go to a car
park under some flats.

- Near the Edgware Road?
- Yeah.

You said it wasn't the
car that k*lled him.

So how'd he die?

Rebecca, how'd he die?

When I got there, he
was already there.

No, we didn't.

Yes, you did. You spiked
my vodka with vodka.

- Right.
- Be careful, okay?

Look before you make turns.

One of them was holding
him up on his bike.

No, I'll be fine
once I get going.

He was fine. He was drunk
or maybe taking something.

Then, another one…

started choking him.

This third guy got in
my car and hit him.

There was a guy
watching. He left.

Get a good look at him?

Then what?

He was still alive, but
he was in a bad way.

So the third guy, the
one that choked him, he…

He finished him off.

How?

What'd he look like?

Big, fifties, shaved head.

f*cking terrifying.

Then they put him and his
bike in the back of a van.

They drove to
where he was found.

Then they told me
to call an ambulance

and say your friend
cycled out in front of me.

- The two that ran him over.
- Yeah.

- You've seen them before?
- Yeah.

Well, I've couriered
for that one.

Don't ask me what. I don't look.

- All right. The one lurking. Is that him?
- Maybe. I don't know.

I don't know.

- Didn't get a good look at him.
- All right.

- And this is who k*lled him?
- Yeah, that's him.

The language school where
you collected the money,

is that the usual pickup?

No, it's new.

Was anyone there when
you collected it?

No, they gave me a key

and told me to put it
through the letter box after.

All right. Thank you, Rebecca.

You said you'd keep me safe
if I told you everything.

Okay. Here.

I'm gonna give you a
number for a service.

Is it a safe house?

New identity? You
know I'll need money.

They answer with a rotating
cover, changes every month.

Just give them the
name "Jackson Lamb,"

and when they ask you what you
want, you say number seven.

Number seven.

That's it. And they should be
with you in about half an hour.

All right.

Hello?

Hi, I was told to call this
number by Jackson Lamb.

- He told me to ask for number seven.
- Can you hold, please?

Yeah, I'll hold.

- Do you want his favorite?
- Sorry. What?

Number seven.

I don't understand.

Number seven's Mr. Lamb's
favorite, double noodles.

Do you want his sides with that?

Nothing's left outside, is it?

Definitely looks like rain.

- Is no one going to eat?
- No...

I feel self-conscious

with all of you
just watching me.

Well, have you
come far then, Leo?

Not that Alex's excellent cooking
isn't worth traveling for, of course.

I had some business
in Worcester.

This is a small detour
on my way back to London.

He's always been like
this, dropping in and out.

- Yeah.
- Take him when we can get him.

How about you, Mr. Walker?
You're from around here?

No. I'm a journalist.

I'm here doing a small
piece on village life.

Yeah. Kelly's been very
kindly showing me around.

I have.

So, you're undercover?

No. Not undercover, no.

I don't think I've got the
nerve for that kind of thing.

What big story will you find?
This is a very sleepy village.

You find all sorts
behind the curtains.

Right.

But I bet you're pulling
them back for him.

She's a very nosy woman.

- Excuse me.
- You can say that again.

No. In a good way.

What have you discovered so far?

Well, that I'm not as good
a flier as I first thought.

Either that or Kelly's not as
good a pilot as she thought.

I think you were
right the first time.

But no, I've been hearing
all about the village gossip.

And the poacher.

Dangerous business, poaching.

Yeah, it is.

Does he use traps
or g*ns? Or poison?

Depends on the animal.

Well, this has taken
a rather bleak turn.

- Coffee anyone?
- Yes, please.

- Right, okay.
- Shall I...

No. You're a guest. Sit down.

Okay, Kelly, would you mind just
bringing those strawberries out?

- Okay.
- Excuse me.

A word of warning, my friend.

Alex makes disgusting coffee.

Hello. Can I get a
vodka tonic, please?

- Sure.
- Thank you.

Hello.

Hi.

- Sorry, mate.
- You're all right.

You have reached the Westbrook
Academy of English Language.

Please leave your
name and number

and we'll get back to
you shortly. Thank you.

Pick up, Mr. Lamb.

Your answer message is the
only professional thing

in this sh*thole.

You are trying to deflect
your unease with humor?

Too proud to ask how
I know you are there?

I'm guessing 'cause
you're watching me.

Although given your situation,

you might find better
things to do with your time.

Such as?

Bona fide medical treatment for a
start. Google says it's your liver.

Seven months ago,
they said six months.

Injury time now.

But the question is, Nikky,

what kind of injury are
you planning on doing?

After I defected,

my former bosses made clear

that they would
take no retribution.

Provided that one day, if asked,
I would help. And they asked.

What was the nature
of their request?

I'm just a small cog, Mr. Lamb.

I was simply told to keep
you looking in one place

while they do
something in another.

f*ck!

You hack that watch?

All I had to do was
open the fitness app.

Upstairs. Now!

You seem, I don't
know, a bit tense.

Just wondering why you're here.

- Now you're being defensive.
- Should I be?

Well, I am MI5.

You already knew that.

So all our cards are
now on the table.

Mine are. Are yours?

I'm not exactly sure
what you want me to say.

The Heathrow CCTV.

It turns out Chernitsky
never left the country.

Did you hear me?

Chernitsky never left
the country. I know that.

How?

Because he m*rder*d Harper.

I spoke to the driver,
Rebecca Mitchell.

Only she wasn't driving.

Pashkin's security
ran Harper over

before Chernitsky delivered
the coup de grâce.

Pashkin?

He tapped him like
he tapped Dickie.

He's got some poison thing going
on like he's Rosa f*cking Klebb.

When the Park finds out, they'll pull
the operation. We'll never get them.

That's why I'm not telling them.

Taverner will save face

by sweeping the whole
bloody thing under the rug.

Those f*ckers will be deported,
and their names scrubbed

from every flight manifest
from here to Yakutsk.

They k*lled two of my
joes. It's not happening.

Do we tell Louisa?

Yeah. Well, I would if she
would answer her f*cking phone.

- So, how long have you worked for Nevsky?
- Coming up to five years.

And before that? What,
guessing still at school?

Well, Nevsky saw something
in me when I was very young.

- What was that?
- Hunger.

The people he had
around him were lazy.

So did you just roll
in and get rid of them?

Well, they got
rid of themselves.

But that's what happens when
successful people come along. No?

Well, I wouldn't know.

Come on. You're MI5.
That is very successful.

Oh, yeah, I'm not typical MI5.

I'm kind of in internal exile,

in a department where they
put all the undesirables.

Well, I find that
hard to believe.

Cute, but I am
undesirable in their eyes.

Why?

It's not a moment
I wish to revisit.

So why don't you quit?

Because I don't want that
to be the end of my story.

I don't want to die in Slough
House like my boss will.

And I don't wanna die

before I have a chance
to get out like Min.

Min?

Min Harper. My
colleague who d*ed.

Of course. I'm sorry.

Yeah, thanks. Me too.

It was an accident.
He was cycling drunk.

Hard to believe.
Just wasn't like him.

Forgive me. I was told he
swerved straight into a car.

Some poor woman
never saw him coming.

Yeah.

You don't believe it?

When an agent dies, everything
has to be considered.

But yes, in this case, it
was just a stupid accident.

Why did they k*ll Min?

To be determined.

Reporting for duty.

The lovely Rebecca Mitchell
picked up a payment

for taking part in Harper's m*rder
at Katinsky's language school.

This connects to Katinsky?

He wanted me watching his school
while something else was going down.

What?

I'm hoping this herbert
can help me with that.

What's on the watch?

Min was the only person in the world
who had all six Spin Doctors albums.

Before I break your neck,

was there anything out of the
ordinary about his last movements?

In the morning he cycled from
Gordon Square to Edgware Road.

He stopped at an industrial estate
on the way behind the Euston Road.

And back to Edgware
Road in the evening

before he headbutted
that car in St. Pancras.

All right. I want addresses
for every place he stopped

for more time than it
took to gasp for breath.

I can brute force his
phone too if you like.

Strip it for data? Send you
everything but the nudes.

You got five seconds

before I brute force your arse
down those f*cking stairs.

What can I be doing
while you're gone?

I don't know.

Whatever it is you normally
do when I'm not here.

And if you're gonna be a martyr,
put that back in the bottle.

I must go back to my room
and check-in with Nevsky.

But give me 20 minutes,
and join me if you like.

We can have a drink
on the terrace.

- Thank you for the drinks.
- My pleasure.

Sadly, guys, I'm going
to have to leave.

- No. Stay the night.
- Stay. Have another one.

No. Sorry for that. Can't be
helped. I have work in the morning.

Leo.

Thank you.

I really think I have
seen you somewhere before.

No. I'd definitely remember you.

Maybe I saw you in passing.

But you know, I have
a thing for faces.

I will sit and watch someone
on a train or on a bus.

Try and imagine their lives.

When were you last on a bus?

- Last week.
- Oh, yes?

Yes, because your shitty
British trains were broken down.

- Yeah, what's new?
- That's it.

Maybe see you again.
Either in London or here.

- Maybe. Good to meet you.
- Yeah.

Well, time to go.

Right. Well, what a
shame. Let's take you.

What's going on?

Nothing. What do you mean?

Leo seemed to know you.

No. I think he's just
confusing me with someone else.

- You take care.
- Kelly, come say goodbye.

Right. And the jibe
about being undercover?

- See you, Leo. Great to see you, mate.
- Thank you. See you.

- Yeah.
- Kelly!

Coming.

Wait here.

- All right, take care, darling.
- Yeah! Next time I stay longer.

- Yes, do.
- Yeah.

Now drive safe.

Bye, Leo.

Yeah, and give us a bit
more notice next time.

Oh, stop it.

Bye, Leo.

- Stay well.
- Drive safe.

- Bye.
- Bye.

What the f*ck?

Bye.

- That's an impressive model.
- Yes it is.

One in a thousand.

Excuse me?

Containers. Yeah. One in a
thousand carrying illegal goods.

- Floating all over the world. Unregulated.
- Okay.

g*ns, dr*gs,

even human beings, if
you can believe that.

Anything that will
make the f*ckers money.

But for such a network to exist,
insiders are needed at every step.

People willing to you know, take
some cash and look the other way.

I don't know what you're...

Yesterday a package was picked up
from here by a couple of Russians.

- I need to know exactly what was inside.
- I wasn't here then.

Do I look like I give a f*ck?

If anything's gone on,
it's nothing to do with me.

It's everything to do with you
because you're the one standing there.

You a policeman?

That's for you to work out.

You see, either way…

if I make a call…

it's not gonna be good for you.

I can do a search on packages
from the last few days.

Yeah, good idea.

Try Thursday. 11:03 a.m.

There was a pickup.
Small item. Wait.

There are no details at all.

I can't tell you what it was.
All the details have been wiped.

Meet me at Nevsky's.

What do you mean when?

How about we start with right
f-f*cking now and go from there.

If this is a telemarketing call,
you're in for a world of trouble.

I need you to track
my service phone.

- River?
- My service phone.

I put it in Chernitsky's pocket.
It's got tracking enabled.

Just tell me where he is. Hurry.

- Come on, Roddy. Come on.
- Wait a second, it's loading.

Yeah, well…

if you could be just a
smidge quicker, Roddy,

that would be very
much appreciated.

- Okay, it's moving down Ridgeway Drive.
- I don't know where that is.

- Where are you?
- The Downside Man pub.

The B192 moving Northwest.

Just pulled off onto a
smaller road, Barn Lane.

- You need to go left onto…
- Yeah, I know where he's going.

Yeah, you're welcome.

Jon!

Hello. Is that Victor Krymov?

Good evening. My name
is Catherine Standish

and I'm calling in regard to some
consultation work you conducted,

for an IO named James Webb.

That's correct.

The reason I'm calling is that

we seemed to have found
a gap in our records.

We don't have your signed
official Secrets Act document.

No, that's perfect. No,
I can meet you there.

Okay, thank you. Goodbye.

So, Pashkin's boss lives here?

Yeah. Nevsky. Pokey
little bedsit, isn't it?

And Spider's hoping to
put the top brass together

with Nevsky at some point.

That's his plan.

But that boy would be out of
his depth in a f*cking puddle.

What are we doing here, if
you don't mind my asking?

Staking out Nevsky's.

One of the Russians who popped up
on our 30-year-old radar screen

went to very elaborate ends to
make sure that I went to Point A

while his comrades went to
Point who-the-f*ck-knows-where.

That's f*cking horrible.

There's six cameras
pointed at the road.

We should be having our
prostates exfoliated

by a couple of calloused
Russian fingers by now.

Yeah, it looks like
the door is open.

You want to run over there
and take a look inside?

No, you're all right, thanks.

Fine. You're fired. f*ck off.

Well, won't I get fired
for breaking and entering?

If I'm not sh*t by his
ex-Spetsnaz guards.

The reason I picked you is because I
thought you were the only one of my team

with a decent pair of bullocks.
Obviously, I was wrong.

You weren't wrong.

And what you just said
is highly offensive.

In here.

f*ck.

- That's Nevsky.
- Stay back!

Stay back.

He didn't go that way from
the f*cking tanning bed.

What? He's radioactive?

Yeah. That's why they
left the Geiger counter.

To let him know that what they pumped
into his veins wasn't vitamin B12.

Well, why did they
sh**t him then?

He did that. Probably didn't
fancy four days of f*cking agony.

And the thumb?

I don't know.

Maybe they made their
getaway by hitching.

Let's get out of here

before we start coughing
up our kidneys too.

Here. Give me that.

Who the f*ck did this?

Pashkin's men.

I thought Pashkin
worked for Nevsky?

I don't know who he's
f*cking working for.

Those f*ckers did this
right under our noses.

How did the Park miss it?

The package those g*ons picked
up was moved through the ports.

Well, don't they
check the ports?

Well, they scan what they can,

but 95% of all containers
gets through sight unseen.

They'd have sent multiple packages
knowing at least one would get through.

Aren't you worried?

About what?

We were in there quite a while.

Yeah, terrified.

Back home, treating a man of
the cloth with such negligence

would get you excommunicated.

And treating royalty like
that would get you sh*t.

Victor Krymov?
Catherine Standish.

Miss Standish, please sit.

I hope I'm not
interrupting anything.

On the contrary.

Just saved the life
of high-ranking royal.

I suppose a celebration
is in order.

Tell me, is this standard
operating procedure?

No, it was on my way home.

Is that so?

Once you've signed it,
I'm afraid I'll also need

some clarification on a
few of your statements.

Where did you say you worked?

I work in the Service.

Okay.

You want me to sign this, fine. I
signed it once in front of Mr. Webb.

I will sign it again for you.

Thank you. So…

when you brokered a meeting with
Arkady Pashkin and James Webb,

you said you could
vouch for Pashkin.

How do you know him?

You usually work behind a desk?

You can learn a lot from
sitting behind a desk.

So, what you have
learned about me?

That you trade in information.

Quite so. Do you want to trade?

I have story about Pashkin.

I'm sure you have a
story about yourself,

or someone you work with,
that would interest me.

Drink?

No, thank you. I don't drink.

Basic field training will
tell you that social drinking

is an easy way of
softening up a target.

No, really. I can't, I'm sorry.

- Yes, you can.
- No, I can't.

Yes, you can.

I have a problem with alcohol.

Well, you sound like
you have a story.

A fair trade.

Why would you be
interested in my story?

Because anything I
learn about someone

in the employ of the
British Secret Service

may be of use later.

You're asking me to give you something
that could be used against the Service?

Okay, maybe it won't be of
use. That's your gamble.

But it's the only way you are
going to get what you want.

Okay, you can see yourself out.

Take your signed document,
and leave me to play chess

and drink and gossip
till breakfast.

This...

This gave me a confidence I didn't
have. It made me feel more like me.

I had fun. A lot of fun. I
thought I was living my life.

When I started pouring
vodka on my cornflakes,

I knew that the fun had gone.

In its place was chaos.
I wasn't me anymore.

I was stuck in a game where I always
lost, and I wasn't getting anywhere.

I was convinced I was
hiding it ever so well,

but it started to
affect my work.

And rather than sacking me, my
boss paid for me to get help.

No one had ever shown me
such consideration before.

A knight in shining armor.

- If you like.
- Your prince.

No.

But then I started to live my
life. So, I paid him back in kind.

I bought food for him,

I arranged his flowers,
I arranged his life.

Until one day…

He let you down. As everyone does.
Your knight turned out to be a knave.

No, he moved on to other things.

I try to live up to what
he would expect of me, but…

it's hard without him.

So... You are
enthralled to a ghost.

This man, he also
worked for the Service?

Your turn.

What are the details about
you and Arkady Pashkin?

Okay.

I know Pashkin because we
swim in the same waters.

He is a roving fixer
of Ilya Nevsky.

He knew I had done
business with MI5,

so he asked me to make contact.

For what, I don't know.

That's what you
said to James Webb.

There is the trade,
like for like.

You gave me your pawn.
You can't expect my rook.

If you want my rook, you will
have to give me your knight

and two of your pawns.

- You're not being fair.
- No, I'm not.

Now scurry back
behind your desk.

You are too naïve for this work.

- If you please, I have another game.
- Fine.

What?

I've just spoken to the man who
connected Pashkin with Webb.

Victor Krymov?

What you wasting your
time with him for?

- What, you know him?
- Of course, I do.

I wouldn't trust him to tell me the time
if we were standing in front of Big Ben.

He insists he's known Pashkin for years,
but he's reluctant to go into details.

Well, he'd have run
rings around ya.

And his story's a crock of sh*t.

He'd have been paid to lie
that Pashkin works for Nevsky.

How do you know he doesn't?

Because Nevsky's been m*rder*d,
likely by Pashkin's g*ons.

What?

I'm sure Krymov knows more,
but he'll have to wait.

I'm still trying to work out
what the f*ck Katinsky wants.

Do you want me to try again?

No, I want you to go home
and stop playing Mata Hari.

It's just me. It's Marcus.

- Open your bag.
- What the f*ck are you doing?

- Did you just follow me?
- Yeah, and you'll be glad I did as well.

- You were gonna k*ll Pashkin?
- No, I was gonna t*rture him

- and then k*ll him.
- What the f*ck are you thinking?

Min tried to follow them…

ended up dead.
Pashkin k*lled him.

It's been looked into.
It was an accident.

I do... I'm sorry,
I just don't buy it.

- That's because yo...
- No, don't.

Don't say I'm in f*cking shock,
or whatever you're about to say.

Sure. Yeah, you seem
really chilled right now.

He is hiding something, Marcus.

That is why he sat down with me.

- He wanted to see if I was on to him.
- This is insane.

- He's... His watch ticks.
- Yeah, it's a watch.

- He's a fricking fraud.
- What?

His watch ticks.

Watches like that, they don't tick,
they sweep. That's what you pay for.

You want to m*rder a guy
for having a fake watch?

- What?
- Yeah, I've got Louisa.

Look, she was just about
to drug and k*ll Pashki...

Hey, give him to me. Yeah, hi.

Pashkin is a fake. I don't know what
his game is, but he is not real.

He k*lled Min.

No. He didn't k*ll Min, but I
have no doubt he ordered it.

I'm pretty sure he was there.
He had Nevsky k*lled too.

- Nevsky's dead?
- What?

Yes, and I don't want
any more bodies tonight.

Which is why I had
Longridge follow you.

I could literally take him
right now and question him.

Or he could take you.

As much as I love the idea of you going
all Ilsa, She Wolf of the SS on him,

he's Russian and
he might not cr*ck.

So, I want you to stand down

and go to that meeting
tomorrow like nothing is wrong.

Sorry, you want me to go to a meeting
with the man that had Min k*lled

and the men who did
it, and do nothing?

Look, right now, I am going out of my
way to avenge the death of Dickie Bough,

a man I didn't even like.

So, you can imagine what I'm gonna do
to the person who m*rder*d Min Harper,

a man who I at least tolerated.

So, what are you going to do?

I'm going to go and have
a word with the enemy.

- What, the Russians?
- f*ck, no.

The Park.

I need to know if I got played
by a Moscow Centre cipher clerk

or someone else.

And I don't need any
distractions from you.

So, I want you to stand
down, and that's an order.

Okay, gents. Let's turn
around nice and slowly.

What the f*ck are you
doing here, Katinsky?

- Are you crazy?
- Shut up.

So we're gonna blow something
up then, are we, gents?

Is that the plan?

Is that what you were
gonna use Duncan for?

- Jon?
- Alex.

What are you doing here?
Where is Duncan? Alex?

Why have you got a g*n?

- Alex, call the police.
- No, Jon. Why...

Why have you got a g*n?

Just call the police. I'm an MI5 officer.
I'll explain everything. Call the police.

- Leo, what's going on?
- I have no idea.

You said you were
heading back to London.

We are planning a surprise
for Duncan's 60th.

That's the best you could come up with?
Couldn't have thought of anything better?

Nikky's a friend from
our student days.

Yep, I'm sure he is,
Alex, but unfortunately,

he's also an ex-KGB
officer. Isn't that right?

Same as Leo, here.

- He's your husband's handler.
- Handler?

- Duncan's a Russian sleeper agent.
- What?

- Let me explain.
- Don't move. Put your hands on your head.

They're old friends planning a surprise,
same as me. That's why I'm here.

Leo and I snuck away from Duncan
to meet Nikky. It was all arranged.

Look, that's fertilizer
and fuel oil behind them.

They're not making a cake.
They're making a b*mb.

No, this... You're
wrong. This is absurd.

My husband is not
a Russian agent.

Look, Alex, just tru...

What now?

We ready the plane.

Put him out.

Yes.