01x05 - Snow

[bunniefuu]

Philby didn't escape.

I let him go.

Why did I let him go?

Because I'm trained in, shall we say, exigent circumstances, to consider myself above the law.

You can come in now, Mrs Thomas.

Because all of us at SIS have been raised since the year dot to believe we belong to a higher order.

A different set of rules.

Tell Sir Roger that.

A higher order?

The aim is to draw Sir Roger out and force him to defend himself, so tell them I let Philby go to save SIS from a public

trial that would've that would've inflicted more harm on the country than good.

And then wait for them to address the elephant in the room.

- It's a nice day.

- Lovely.

And what if they don't?

They will.

Sir Roger will.

We believe Elliott has found out about Blunt.

You believe or know for certain?

Did you know they had lunch at Elliott's club yesterday?

No, I did not.

While I'm doing this, what

are you gonna be doing?

The time has now come for us to

use Jim Angleton to our advantage.

How do you know Elliott

found out about Sir Anthony?

- How do you not know?

- SIS must have told him.

SIS have no idea.

The source was Michael

Straight, to the Americans,

who passed it on to us at

MI5, and us alone, not SIS.

- You seem sceptical, Mrs Thomas.

- Of the Americans?

Unless, of course, it was

Philby who told Elliott

about Blunt in Beirut.

Possible.

How do you not know that Elliott

and Blunt met for lunch yesterday?

I'm a debriefer, sir, not a watcher.

Wasn't it you who suggested

we let him off the lead,

I think is the phrase you used,

so that we You could watch him?

Mrs Thomas?

Yes.

He wants to meet in

person. Urgent, he said.

Tozhe ona, tozhe ona.

Chto s ney budete delat'? Ey!

Ciao, Poppi.

Nicholas?

I was told this is urgent.

Bad news, I'm afraid. From Moscow.

Budet sneg.

In English, please.

Sneg.

Snow.

It's going to snow.

Spasibo.

Thank you so much for coming

all this way. Beyond the call.

So sorry for your loss, Kim.

Cicely sends love and condolences.

Keep it.

Let us pray.

What are you doing here?

You didn't answer the bell so we

hopped over the garden railings.

Or more accurately, I hopped.

Jim made a bit of a meal of it.

We figured that you

might like some company.

Jim's heading back to

America in the morning

so we thought we could, you

know, make a night of it.

Between us, I'm off to

Rome for a few days first.

Lovely service today, don't you think?

Very.

Old Reverend Bob's lisp always

did make Mother giggle, though.

"Asheth to asheth, dutht to dutht."

Poor old thing She

d*ed all alone in here.

- I knew you'd do this.

- Cirrhosis, they said.

You cannot blame yourself, Kim.

The sad truth is

both you chaps know me

far better than she ever did.

No, I doubt that.

As a matter of interest

who, outside our

small circle of friends,

have you ever revealed

your real self to?

- "Shall I part my hair behind?"

- Oh, God, here we go.

"Do I dare to eat a peach?"

You two and your bloody poetry!

- Heathen.

- We're to lift his spirits, remember?

Rome, eh?

Business or pleasure?

The Bolsheviks have discovered gelato.

Come on. I'm not taking no for

an answer and nor would you.

A higher order?

His words, not mine.

- Late night?

- Early morning.

Do you ever wear make-up?

- Er, not really, no.

- Hm.

Any particular reason?

Er, I just never have.

- Why?

- Hm.

As a matter of interest,

why is it, do you suppose,

that of all the

debriefers in the building

you were the one assigned

to Nicholas Elliott?

I don't know. To get

under his skin, I suppose.

Because you're a woman.

Er, the opposite of posh.

An affront to the

gentlemen spies of SIS.

I told Sir Roger that you

were the right person for this

because you're good at what you do.

Thank you.

And I thought Nick Elliott

might find you intriguing.

Hm. Intriguing.

What are you not telling us, Lily?

Nothing

ma'am.

Hm.

It's not that a spot

of rouge and mascara

necessarily make one a better liar,

but sometimes they

can help hide the truth.

Honestly, I'm not sure what

I know and do not know as yet.

Well

Sir Roger is

taking you off the case.

Why?

He says you look tired.

I've not been It's barely been

Er, and he couldn't

tell me that to my face?

So that's it?

Nothing more to be done?

Officially, no.

Unofficially?

They call that one Shimmering Rose.

Best bacon and egg roll in the land.

Do you mind?

First, as they say in cowboy

films, I come in peace.

How.

No need to explain the bug in my house.

Kim did a bunk to Moscow, CIA

got wind and suspect I helped him,

so you said you'd come to London

and have a bit of a poke about.

- It's all to be expected.

- That's very sporting of you.

But I'll wager you skipped the

part about why you really came here.

To be in radio frequency range

with your people in Moscow.

I don't run joes in the

field any more, Nick.

I'm management now.

Hm. So I gather.

The KGB raided a flat

in Moscow last night.

The man surrendered but the

woman went down fighting.

Your people?

She's dead, Jim.

Kim is a traitor.

A double agent for the KGB.

Has been for 30 years.

Had me fooled since

we first met in 1940,

and you since right after Pearl Harbor.

As painful as that is

it's important that

we finally come to terms

with the cold, hard

fact that one of our own,

whom we loved, respected and admired,

to the point of, dare

I say it, hero worship

has done the unthinkable.

Hero worship?

Speak for yourself.

I am. Believe me.

Go back to Washington. Today.

Cover your tracks in

Moscow if you can

and destroy all evidence

of your blind faith in Kim.

And then we need never

speak of this again.

What about you, Nick?

What are you doing to redeem yourself?

f*ck!

- Give me a light.

- What happened?

Do you have a f*cking light or not?

Do we know the name of the

woman they k*lled last night?

Well, here's to her, anyway.

And to my mother.

And Aileen, the mother of my children.

God rest her soul.

Who knows, maybe you'll be next.

- Bless you.

- Thank you.

Close the door, please.

I'm sorry, you'll have to

remind me of your name again.

Martin.

That's right, Martin. Martin what?

- Arthur Martin.

- Ah. Martin's your surname.

Mrs Thomas is no longer

assigned to your case.

May I ask why?

Not your concern.

Aren't you a tad senior

to be the messenger?

I've come to talk to you

about Sir Anthony Blunt.

Was it your decision

to replace Mrs Thomas?

Sir Roger's.

- Women, eh?

- Quite.

I wasn't aware I'm a "case."

Pull up a pew. Cup of tea?

No, thank you, I'm fine.

Sit.

I'm sure Mrs Thomas probably warned you,

I like to take a moment

or two to break the ice.

I understand you recently had

lunch with Sir Anthony Blunt.

At my club.

Beef Wellington. Must have

been Thursday. Yeah.

What was the reason for this lunch?

Although I think he ordered the fish.

Reason? Er, Vermeer.

Beg your pardon?

Artist. Dutch. Dab hand

with perspective, all that.

Mr Elliott,

may I remind you I'm here under

the authority of the minister.

Fine.

Sir Anthony Blunt. Formerly of

MI5, and now, as we know, the KGB.

- Allegedly.

- Are you defending him?

- No. I'm just saying.

- Because he's MI5.

Ex MI5.

Just as when you, at MI5, took it

upon yourselves to investigate us

here at SIS for our

handling of Kim Philby

As ordered by the Home Secretary.

whom do you suppose it might fall to

to examine MI5's handling of Blunt?

Let me be very clear,

whatever it is you are hiding,

whatever it is you are up to,

you are under no circumstances to

go anywhere near Sir Anthony again.

Ten years ago, when we shared

source intelligence with you

about a possible Soviet penetration

agent at MI5, you personally -

Of course I remember your sodding name,

how could I f*cking well forget it?

- were responsible for the inquiry

that completely overlooked

and missed Blunt.

So I beg to differ that

it's not my concern.

In fact, I'm rather glad you dropped by.

Are you sure I can't

offer you a cup of tea?

Would you get hold of

Mrs Thomas for me, please?

However, to many at the time

Francesco Borromini was

regarded as sacrilegious

in the world of early 17th

century Italian architecture,

and accused of suborning

the laws of the ancients

with chaos and disorder.

Such is art, ladies and gentlemen.

All I can say is thank God for

those few so-called heretics

who insisted that Borromini,

and not, in fact, Bernini,

is the greatest genius

of Baroque architecture.

Bloody Yanks. Look at that.

You've gotta take your hat off to them.

See, that's the difference

between you and me.

That I have genuine admiration

for American ingenuity?

Sometimes I think this is all

just some endless game to you.

You say that

as though

you've never been a player

of the game yourself.

That was in the w*r, when

things were anything but a game.

Belgravia 4367?

I left a message at MI5

over two hours ago now,

and her home number is off the hook.

- All right. Never mind. Go home now.

- Thank you.

- What's wrong?

- Nothing.

I'm worried that in your desperation

to repair all the damage Kim's done,

you're in danger of making things worse.

Desperation?

Only a minute ago you were

saying it was all just a game!

Kiss me.

What's that for?

Does there have to be a reason?

- Did you have a good day?

- Not too bad.

We had to give our vaccines

to King's Hospital, so

You know.

You win some, you lose some. Hm.

You?

Yeah.

Fine.

All right, keep your radio on.

Answer that and I'll m*rder you.

Go on, then.

Angleton did exactly

what you hoped.

When he got to the airport,

rather than fly back to America,

he gets in another car that

was waiting for him there,

and drives north for an hour and a half.

North?

Where?

Dear Nick, I've

been a bloody fool.

"I like a Martini" Said Mabel

But I've learned to

take two At the most."

"For with three I'm under the table

And with four I'm under my host."

Now that is poetry.

Dear Nick,

bravo, old bean.

You sold me a rope

which I mistook for a lifeline

rather than the

noose that it is.

Only you would have

pulled that one off.

There once was a Yank named Jim

Who swore by his old friend Kim.

And every time they drank

- They'd go for a wank.

- Argh!

To the tune of their favourite hymn.

So

in the grand scheme of things,

I do hope everything

that happened between us

over the course of

our long friendship

hasn't caused too much

discomfort and inconvenience.

It's all quiet.

He's just sat down to

dinner at The Connaught.

- I'm round the

corner. - Save me some tea.

Wait. Something's happening.

He's leaving. I need you here now!

f*ck's sake! Where are you?

Sorry.

You're a good 'un, Dr

Thomas. Too good for me.

Don't I know it!

And you're too good

for this bloody country.

I think someone had a

little too much wine!

My beautiful man.

- What happened?

- Just drive.

f*ck, he'll be halfway to Moscow by now.

Sod it, this is pointless.

Pull over here. Pull over.

Be one of your patients.

Sorry, yeah.

Dr Thomas?

Mrs Thomas, please. It's urgent.

For you. Emergency, he says.

- Hello?

- It's happened

- Where have you been?

- Who is it?

- They took him at The Connaught hotel.

- Mrs Thomas.

But there was some sort of cock-up

and we've lost them somewhere

near Grosvenor Square.

Give me your number.

Norwood 3478.

I'll call you back.

MI5 have lost Blunt.

I once looked up to you, Kim.

My God, how I despise you now.

I only hope you've got

enough decency left in you

to understand why.

You had to choose between

Marxism and your family,

and you chose Marxism!

What, nothing to say?

Marxism I can almost take, but

cowardice? That I can't stomach.

- Not from you.

- Now you're getting desperate.

Let's talk about Stalin.

You know, believe it or not,

I'm actually beginning

to worry about you.

Of course, I understand

that we're trained to

separate thought from feeling,

but doing it with

Stalin is going too far.

It's like It's like

rationalising h*tler.

I'm not gonna argue the difference

between Stalin and h*tler.

- No? Why not? I'm fascinated.

- They were both monsters.

Stalin was a monster. Are you happy now?

You've got 24 hours to get back

here with a signed confession

or there's nothing

more I can do for you.

Because you've done so much already!

I'm offering you a lifeline, Kim.

Yeah. Goodbye, Nick.

And you'd be a fool not to take it!

Thanks, Jock.

What makes you so sure

this is where he is?

Because he's an old friend and

therefore somewhat predictable.

You mean like Philby?

Do try not to be a

total pillock, Desmond.

Argh!

Oh, f*ck!

Ey!

Kakogo chorta

sadish'sya na moyu estradu?

Idiot.

Tebe nravitsya?

Oof. Country air.

f*ck off. f*ck off!

f*ck off! Go away!

Sneg

Do you mind stretching your legs

for a few moments, please, Desmond?

Need a pee anyway.

I was, of course, going

to bring you in on this.

On an illegal CIA abduction.

Of a known communist agent.

This is not the way

to save yourself, Jim.

I'm the only friend

you've got right now,

and I've told you what you need to do

Go back to Washington

before it's too late

and leave Blunt to me.

Thank you, Nicholas.

In case you're wondering,

I didn't tell them a thing.

Wake me up when we get there.

Chudik. Vstavay, tebe govoryat.

Ey, vstavay.

Vstavay, tebe govoryat.

You remember Mrs Thomas. Sir Anthony.

I'll say good night, then.

Sit down, Tony.

I know what you're thinking.

Good. That ought to

save us some time, then.

I'm not the third man.

No. That'd be Kim.

You're the fourth man.

You don't deny it, then?

I've been through all this already.

- When?

- Last night.

- With whom?

- Sir Roger.

Hollis.

When you say you've been

through all of this already

My conversation with Sir

Roger is confidential.

Have you told the Russians?

Tony?

Nicholas?

Have you told the Russians

your cover's blown?

No.

Oh, she stays.

I'm telling you this because I know

you care about what happens to Kim.

I thought I already told

you I wanted to k*ll him.

Why didn't you, then?

You're telling me what?

Do you think I might

have a glass of water?

Yep. I'll get it.

If the Russians were ever to find out

that Kim blew my cover

to you in Beirut

Your head would be the first to

roll, of that you can be certain.

What instructions were you given

in the event of your cover being blown?

I have no instructions. There were none.

I should warn you that in the

greater scheme of things

I don't give a damn how much

my exposing you as a Soviet spy

might embarrass the Queen.

I have had no contact with

Russian intelligence since 1945.

- After you helped them defeat

- No glasses, I'm afraid.

- You'll have to drink out of the tap.

- It's fine.

Is Her Majesty aware of your

work for Russian intelligence?

I don't think I need to dignify that.

No.

You absolutely do.

Or should I toss you

back to the Americans?

Of course she isn't aware.

My instructions were to go to Hollis.

- And do what?

- Inform him that I was blown.

- What's he supposed to do about it?

- That I don't know.

- But you were told he might help?

- So I understood, yes.

- How did he react when you told him?

- Hard to say.

What did he tell you to do?

Nothing. He told me to do

nothing until he got back to me.

- Who is your KGB handler?

- I don't have a handler.

So who told you to go to Hollis?

Philby.

f*ck off, I said!

Come on, Kim. I'm taking you home.

I have no home, thanks to you.

Kim. Come.

Kim!

Kim!

Silly arse.

Mne nuzhno, chtoby ty yego

proveryala kazhdyye desyat' minut.

What are you doing up?

Hello, Nick.

Sir Roger!