MI-5 (2002–2011): Season 9, Episode 1 - Episode #9.1 - full transcript

That's what the job's about.

Don't make a decision you can't live with.

Unidentified government agents
meeting in Switzerland,

talk of a new world order.

That's how serious these people are.

That's why we need to
find her and stop them.

What, you're just going to leave?
Just going to let them win?

I'm finished.

As the home secretary resigns amidst
allegations of corruption and sleaze,

we ask, are the security services
part of the cover-up?

- Nightingale's been stirring things up.
But what the hell is their game?



If we go in, it'll be a bloodbath,

and I've got Ros Myers in there.

It's the right call.

My only regret about dying
is not being around to know what it's like.

The British home secretary
and the Pakistani president

are still inside that building and
we can't actually move in and get them out?

There's no point us both dying.

Not really part of the job description.

I'm going back for Ros.

"Blessed, who can unconcernedly find

"Hours, days, and years slide soft away

"In health of body, peace of mind

"Quiet by day

"Sound sleep by night; study and ease



"Together mix'd; sweet recreation

"And innocence, which most does please

"With meditation.

"Thus let me live, unseen, unknown

"Thus unlamented let me die

"Steal from the world, and not a stone

"Tell where I lie."

I can't believe
she chose this place.

It's not really very Ros somehow, is it?

An enigma 'til the last.

You know, she once told me
that friends and lovers were overrated.

- She only really liked colleagues.
- "Liked" might be a bit strong.

- I need to talk to you.
- And I you.

A turn around the grounds?

I feel like she's trying
to tell us something.

Like this is what was
missing from her life.

Marry me, Ruth.

- Harry, this is neither the time nor the place.
- This is exactly the time and the place.

It's the funeral.

- It's made you emotional.
- No.

It's made me see clearly.

Ros gave everything to this country
and six people came to say goodbye to her.

Six people, Ruth.

I don't want that for myself.

And I don't want that for you.

Oh, Harry, God, your timing...

- Timing is nothing.
- Timing means everything!

It took you one second
to ask me to marry you.

Do you know that in the years gone by,
there have been

thousands of moments in which
if you'd asked me the same question,

I'd have said yes, always.

But now, after the choices you've...

I can't, Harry.

What did you want to talk to me about?

No, it can wait.
No.

We move on from this.

Nightingale conspirators.

They buried their trails deeper
than I've ever seen.

But last night, we came up with something.

He was part of the inner circle, Harry.
He gave the order to bomb the hotel.

But they smeared him.
They forced him to resign.

It was a smokescreen.

Everything's in there.

Ever feel like you just can't go on, Ruth?

Can't go on... Must go on.

It's only 30 years old,
but it should be quaffable.

This is a surprise! Come in.

Forgive the haste.

It's cold here.

Cold, remote and forbidding. Bliss!

So are you rattling around
this place all alone?

Oh, not for long, sadly.

Julia and her sister come up tomorrow.

How are you, Harry? I mean really?

I'll be all the better for this.

To Ros.

To Ros.

Mmm. Highly quaffable.

I wanted to ask you...

Was there anything I could do for Ros?

Some recognition I could procure
for all the work she did?

Well, come on, man, make yourself at home.
You've still got your gloves on.

I don't suppose it's worth
my calling for help,

making myself sick, anything like that.

How did you find out?

Ruth.

That dogged, brilliant bitch.

Will it hurt, Harry?

Not for long.

My family?

Lt'll look like a heart attack.

There'll be no disgrace.

Thank you.

I'm truly sorry about Ros.

Even if the plan had worked,
I would have regretted her sacrifice and...

You know, I always liked you, Harry.

I envied you, actually.

Your sure moral sense.

The thing is, though,

that kind of certainty limits a man.

Keeps him small.

That's why you'll never have
what I had with Nightingale.

The chance, even for just one moment,
to really change everything.

You'll never know what that's like.

- I'm about to board.
Alpha one...

I don't need to remind you
how dangerous this man is.

He's Al-Qaeda's head of
African operations. Be careful.

Got you on the ship's GPS. Bon voyage.

- What's with the prostitute, Captain?
- Do you like the blonde?

Oh, mate, don't even get me
started on blondes.

I was told no women and children
on this boat.

Are you trying to start
a riot or something?

Mr O'Hare, I can't deny my men
a chance to make some extra money.

She'll fetch a couple of thousand
at the other end.

Good luck.

Thank you.

Sir Harry. The man, the myth, the legend.

- Home Secretary.
- Please.

Good lumbar support.

- My only vice. Amongst others.
- I trust you can provide a receipt.

Yes. It does makes one
rather nostalgic for the days of

lining one's office with mink
at the taxpayer's expense.

Still, knife crime down two percent.

Probably just the honeymoon period, sadly.

Well, make the most of it.
Reintroduce slavery and invade Belgium.

I do hope we're going to get on, Sir Harry,
despite your links to the ancien r?gime.

I have no political affiliations,
Home Secretary.

I have greater matters in hand.

Ah, well. The ship has been righted
at long last.

Our noble coalition at the helm.

Now, why do we have
to raise the threat level?

Hussein Abib.

Rising Al-Qaeda star.
Former Somali warlord.

He's well resourced
and enjoys a reputation for brutality.

And we have intel that he's now
planning an attack in the UK.

His martyrdom video states that he wants to
"strike at the heart of British power."

But we think we've found him,
on a ship sailing out of Morocco.

We've decided to take a pre-emptive stance
and nip it in the bud.

- I'm talking about a kill order.
- Well, good luck.

Of course, you'll keep all of this
well away from UK territory.

- Hmm.
- Anything else?

Just this.

It's my resignation.

I know you were close to Ros Myers.

Her death is just one of many reasons,
Home Secretary.

And, of course, your appointment
has no bearing on my decision.

It feels like the appropriate moment.

Listen, Harry. As I ease into my dotage,

I've realised that everything in life
is about timing.

From sex to the golf swing.

So I'm not going to pick
up that envelope yet.

We'll just let it percolate for a few days.

As you wish, Home Secretary.

Yes, everything's cool,
everything's set, everything's fun, okay?

It's gonna be good fun, okay?
Yeah, all right.

Tell you what, mate, if she's clean, I'll
give you 50 for a couple of hours with her.

Hey! You don't talk to her, eh?

She's clean. And she stays clean.

Come on, mate.
You can't bring a woman on board

and expect to keep her all to yourself.

Please.

Oh! I think she's got a soft spot for you.

The former home secretary's autopsy
came through, Harry.

Heart attack.

How sad.

Not really.

Harry, I've got Lucas.

Go ahead, Alpha one.

Abib's onboard. Eyeball confirmation.

Are we a go?

Complete the operation.

And, Lucas, the assassination has to happen
whilst you're in international waters.

Understood.

Captain.

Fresh from the captain's table.

What's that woman doing on board?

Your orders were to keep crew
and passengers to a minimum.

We can't afford any collateral
if things turn bad.

The crew get a cut of the sale.
The old captain allowed it.

If I'd have said no,
they may have rejected me as skipper.

Look, I don't like it,
but that's the way it works out here.

Fine, but after we've done this,
I want that girl off this ship.

Of course. Extra ammo and suppressor.

They're in cabin six, upper deck C.

I'll call a crew meeting in two minutes
to make sure you don't run into anybody.

You'll have time to get rid of the body.

You know, sir, I could have
taken care of this myself.

Walk before you can run, Dimitri.

And Abib had a container loaded onboard.

I've tried to check it,
but it's been welded shut.

- Can't be good, right?
- Let's deal with Abib first.

I think that's everything.

- No, please!
- It's all right. I'm not going to hurt you.

What are you doing down here?

Do you speak English, hmm? Russian?

Please. Please, I run. I go.

No, no, no, no. Listen.
You need to go back to your cabin. Now.

Shit! Down, down!

Pirates. Let's go back. Come on.

Our company will pay good money for us.
As long as you don't hurt us.

- Who are these people?
- No one, just passengers.

You had a gun.

- Why?
Why do you think?

Protection from people like you.

A gangster and his whore.

Do not waste ammunition.
Cut them and throw them overboard.

What are you doing?
It doesn't make any sense to kill him.

If he's a gangster, there's
money in it for you.

You first.

Who are you?

Private contractor.

I'm assuming you're security services?

Help me conceal these bodies.

There's only one thing on this boat
worth tracking.

I'm assuming you and your pimp
are onto Abib.

So how do you think these guys fit in?
Are they just pirates?

Let's hope so.

You're coming with me

and you're going to do exactly
what you're told, is that clear?

I just saved your life.

Let's move.

You can't seriously
be thinking about taking them on.

- There're too many of them.
- I need you to get back to my cabin.

B Deck, cabin three.

There's a sat phone under the bunk mattress.
Dial hash-hash-star-zero-five.

Whoever picks up, give them the
emergency contact protocol, cobalt seven.

Ask to speak to Harry Pearce.
Get him to assess and advise.

Why don't you go?

Because I'm not taking
my eyes off my colleague.

And you're slightly less likely
to be shot than I am.

Bring the phone back with you.

Why do you need the crane?

Are you opening a container?

Harry. Emergency contact
from the Hanover Star.

- Lucas or Dimitri?
- Neither.

This is Harry Pearce.

Mr Pearce, my name is Beth Bailey.

I'm a private security contractor
surveilling Hussein Abib's organisation.

The Hanover Star has been
boarded by pirates.

It's not yet clear if there's
any connection with Abib.

Your lead operative is trying
to rescue his colleague,

who's being held at gunpoint.

- Do we trust this?
- Well, she used all the right protocols.

Miss Bailey, tell my officer
to abort his primary mission.

Then I want all of you off that boat.

We'll alert the relevant navy.
Thank you for your assistance.

Understood.

- They'll be all right, Harry.
- That will be all, Ruth.

Abib, my brother.

Shalom.

I spoke to your people.

You're to abort the primary mission
and get off the ship.

We need captain and engineer only.

Wait!

If you kill any more of my men,
I won't pilot the ship. I swear to you.

And I swear to you,

I kill someone every minute
you do not do your job.

Starting with this passenger.

Okay, okay!

You killed him. Not me.

Lock them up.

Turn off the GPS and
bring me the sat phone.

Once I've finished,
activate the signal jammer.

Whoa!

GPS signal just died.

Red-flash Lucas on the sat phone.

Signal's blocked.

Alert the Admiralty.

We're too low in the water.
I need to go and check something.

- What is it?
- The ballast pump must have failed.

I need to fix it, or we could capsize.

Come on. I need to do it now!

I need my tools.

Don't touch anything in the engine room.
Ballast pumps are very dangerous.

This is it.

Hey!

What's happening down there?
Why did they kill those men?

- What's she doing here?
- It's okay.

They're not pirates. They're with Abib.
He's their leader.

Hijacking the ship is part of a plan.
And I found out what was in his container.

- Explosives. A lot.
- Shit.

- I need to notify the Grid.
- You can't.

They've jammed all the signals
and turned off the GPS. We're invisible.

You need to get off the boat
and get out of jammer range.

- I'll stay.
- No. No way.

- We all go.
- If we all go, we lose the boat,

and we leave Abib alone
with a floating bomb.

Look, if I stay, I may have a chance
to stop the ship

before it gets anywhere near land.

You go get help.
Besides, they need me to sail this thing.

They're not gonna hurt me. Not yet.

You know this is the right option.

Cause a diversion,
get Abib's men off the deck

and I'll release the lifeboat locks.

- All right.
- One more thing.

I overheard Abib on the phone to someone.
Talwar.

Sounded like someone important.

Abib told him he could "begin".

I think they're mounting an operation. Go!

I'm done.

Fire! The engine room!

You want to die?

You stay here.

Quickly!

The passengers,
why did you help them escape?

Don't look at me.

Sail the ship. Anything else, you die.

The pirates are loyal to Abib and that
ship is now packed with explosives.

- Headed for the UK?
- It's likely, given his previous threats.

Look, with the navigation systems offline,

it will be impossible to tell
where she's headed.

And Dimitri said he overheard Abib talking
on a sat phone to someone called Talwar.

I think they're planning
some sort of coordinated attack.

We'll look into it. Tariq.

Cross-reference everything we have
on Abib with this Talwar.

Look, Harry, Dimitri is still on board.
We couldn't have escaped without him.

He's going to try and scuttle the ship.

But there's a patrol boat leaving shortly.
I want to go back for him.

No. Let the navy do their job.

If there's the chance of an attack here,
we need you.

Thumb a ride on a Hercules.
I need you back on the Grid, Lucas.

Be safe.

We need a list of possible targets
along the south coast.

Start with the naval bases.

If that ship gets into harbour,
it could destroy a whole city.

And our newest recruit is on board.

Talwar is a code name of a high-level
Al-Qaeda computer hacker

thought to be behind the breach
of the Pentagon mainframe last year.

The CIA have been trying to flush him out
of the Swat Valley since February.

And he's working with Abib?

- Is he running this op?
- Impossible to say.

But I've got a potential target.

New aircraft carrier being launched
by the queen in Plymouth tomorrow.

Thousands of people, head of state,
military significance - it's Abib's dream target.

GCHQ have been intercepting
all Abib's communications

for the last 15 months, and the problem is,

Abib's private communications
are always heavily coded,

- so it takes weeks to break them.
- We don't have weeks.

If Tariq's right about Plymouth,
thousands are at risk.

We need to know what these two
are saying to each other.

It's the only way we'll find out
if that's where the ship's heading.

Look, don't worry about Dimitri.

He was SBS. They fight sharks for fun.

Does it ever stop?

It's not your fault, Harry.

Any chance of a lift back to London?

Look, I'm sorry about your colleague,
but it's exactly why people like you

shouldn't get involved
with things like this.

My company has 30 years' experience.
Please stop patronising me.

- We're in the same field, buddy.
- You think?

Right now, my colleague is alone at gunpoint,
risking his life to protect his country

on a ship loaded with explosives.

You? You're a profiteer.

You exploit death, violence
and misery for money.

I reckon you can afford
your own plane ticket.

I've just been undercover
as a penniless prostitute.

Thank you.

Stop the ship.

Go!

You, too.

- Have you cracked the code?
- Not exactly.

Each message between Abib and Talwar
has a different dynamic signature.

I have to trawl the non-indexed deep web
to construct a cipher.

It requires a lot of computing power.
Takes time.

- And you're waiting for?
- Well...

I could send out a worm
to temporarily hijack

a thousand of the public's
personal computers.

Harness their power together
and we can do it.

- Downside?
- Besides massive illegality,

computers across the country
will grind to a halt

and we may corrupt some
files here and there.

So the country will have to struggle on

without pornography and Minesweeper
for a couple of hours. Do it.

Harry, I've been reading Talwar's
unsecured public posts

on known AQ forums.

I might have found something.

Sometimes his Arabic is really off.

Odd phrases, consistent with someone
translating from English.

Well, we don't even know his nationality.

Well, he talks a lot about the mountains,

having to move, avoiding the CIA -
nothing specific, obviously.

But twice he mentions watching the sunrise.

- Usual dawn-of-a-global-lslamic-caliphate bit.
- And?

Well, the sunrise times
don't corroborate with the Middle East.

They're Greenwich Mean Time.

That could place him in other
English-speaking country in our time zone.

Yes, of course. But then, look here.

March 11th, now Talwar apologises
for not posting.

His internet was down
because of a thunderstorm.

The only place with
a localised thunderstorm that afternoon

was the southeast of England.

I think he's here, Harry. In London.
I think he's always been here.

Shalom.

Preparations are already
well under way in Plymouth

for the launch of HMS Endurance,

the newest addition to
The Royal Navy's fleet.

- It's good to have you back.
- Any news on Dimitri?

No. Navy patrols are still searching.

A sky full of satellites,

and yet a 30,000-tonne cargo ship
full of explosives and heading this way

can apparently disappear
into the Atlantic Ocean.

We're onto Talwar, though,

the Al-Qaeda computer hacker
who's Abib's contact.

We think he may be in London,
coordinating this end of the operation.

- Tariq.
- The cipher's working.

But they've been cautious.
Even within this encryption,

Abib and Talwar don't talk
about the operation explicitly.

This is my "I want some good news" face.

Talwar's servers are somewhere
in the Middle East.

He accesses them using
a super-shadow proxy.

This is cutting-edge stuff, it's very cool.

It masks where he really is

by bouncing his communications
across the world.

Untraceable. But this thing's
data packet is pretty unique,

and if we can get a new message,
direct from Talwar, I think I can find him.

Contact Talwar using Abib's private code.

Pose as a friend. Get him to respond.

Tell him the success of the attack
is dependent on that response.

Theo, I'm not a ship's captain.

- I'm British security services.
- What?

We need to take control of this ship,
but to do that I'm going to need your help.

They are your enemies, not mine!

Put them on.

Did Talwar bite?

- It's been 12 minutes. No reply yet.
- We posed as one of the pirates.

Told him Abib was injured
during the hijacking

and needs to pass on an urgent message
about the ship's payload.

Come on, you bastard.
We need to stop that ship.

- Where did all your friends go?
- This journey is not for them.

Set a new course.

What's at Plymouth?

You think they will let you
get anywhere near the port?

You do not speak!

All this effort, to be blown out of
the water five miles off the coast?

That's not a martyr's death,

not even a coward's death,
it's an idiot's death.

What do you know about
dying for a cause, Captain?

We've got a reply. It's Talwar.

Tracing the data packet.

Forcing a reverse IP reveal.

The IP resolves to West London.
Let me narrow it down.

It's registered to Graham Francis Hall,
44, IT consultant,

born in Leeds, no criminal record.

Not your typical Al-Qaeda profile.

Ah, he converted to Islam in '92.

Wife Khalida, born Pakistan,
daughter Aala, aged 17.

- That's all we've got.
- He's been careful. Well, you would.

Tariq, get me the address.

64, Lyntall Street, West 12.

I'll scramble a level-7
armed-response team.

Tell CO19 I'll meet them there.

Okay. You.

Here.

Kneel.

All unbelievers cry in the face of death.

Wait! This plan is already over.

How many innocent people have you killed
for this failure?

And all the innocents your godless leaders
have killed across the Muslim world?

What was the point of
their deaths, Captain?

I don't know. Maybe none. But why do this?

You are a man of faith, aren't you?

I am! But I am also a father

who watched his homeland
abandoned by the West, left to rot.

Do you want us in your country or not?
You don't even know, do you?

Who are you?

Stop the ship.

Protocol six, cloud six, egret.

Get me Harry Pearce.

The Hanover Star back online!

Harry, it's Dimitri!

- Alpha two?
- Abib's dead.

Hanover Star has stopped 26 miles
south-southwest of Plymouth.

Navy should be with us any minute.

Ruth, tell Lucas and CO19 to stand down.

Talwar is now the most valuable
AQ intelligence source we've had in years.

Put a triple-A full surveillance package
on him, then double it.

What about the other pirates, Alpha two?

They seem to have gone.
I need to search the ship,

check that those explosives
aren't gonna go off any time soon.

- You all right?
- Yeah, just a scratch. I'll be fine.

Glad to hear it. Liaise with the navy,
then get back here.

What's the matter?

Worked out. Danger averted, Dimitri's safe.

And what about next time?

What about when it doesn't work out?

Well, then we deal with
it like we always do.

Is it ever time to stop dealing with it?
To just say no?

I don't want to go
to any more funerals.

- What's this about?
- I've handed in my resignation.

- Look, I know that Ros...
- It's not that. It's everything.

I just don't want to feel like
I'm covered in blood any more.

I've never heard you feel sorry
for yourself before.

I don't think I do.

It's just the realisation
that I make a negligible difference.

That's not true.

I think it is.

The bodies keep falling away on both sides.
The enemy strikes, we strike back.

I think it's time for somebody else
to stand on the wall for a bit.

This isn't you talking.

I am leaving.

I want to feel clean.

- That's...
- That's enough, Ruth.

There's someone here to see you.

She's being swept and scanned
in the interrogation room now.

- Who is it?
- Don't know. She knew your protocols though

and she said she was returning
your 50 dirhams.

Thanks, Tariq.

I was adjusting extremely well to the concept
that I was never going to see you again.

That's a nice way to
talk to an old shipmate.

Oh, come on. You used Ml5 codes
to blag your way into the building.

What did you expect?

I have a present for you.

Do you remember the South American
on the boat?

The one sticking out like a sore thumb
amongst the Somalis?

Well, at the time I
thought I recognised him.

So I started checking files
and, eventually, I found him.

Jose Fontes Arroyo.
Colombian engineer and ship-builder.

He works for the drug cartels, designing
new ways to transport their wares.

You must have had
to look through quite a few photos.

About 12,000.

There weren't any good films on the plane.

Besides, it was time well spent
because it means I get to see you again.

Anyway, look, I wondered what the hell
a Colombian drug-smuggling boffin

was doing on an AQ mission, so I dug a bit.

This is Arroyo's pride and joy.

They're remote semi-submersibles
which travel fast and low.

They're totally undetectable by radar
and can carry 10 tonnes of cocaine.

Or they could carry 10 tonnes of explosive.

The Hanover Star has been neutralised.
My colleague killed Abib.

It's over.

Hmm.

That's not to say this isn't interesting.

I want to know what this man
was doing on the boat.

But I get the impression
you might want something in return.

I'd like to talk to Harry Pearce.

You don't remember me, do you?

Actually, I do, Miss Bailey. Very well.
You were an excellent candidate.

But at the time it was felt
by some of the recruitment panel

that you were overly self-interested
and potentially arrogant.

- Ouch.
- How have the intervening years been?

Well, I suppose I've been
proving the panel right mostly.

Making large amounts of money
in the private sector.

I worked in South America first
and then the Middle East.

- So why are you here?
- I was thinking of reapplying.

- Well run dry?
- No.

But the water's dirty.

The private sector's
flooded with amateurs now.

And you're suddenly stirred once again
to the defence of the realm?

Look, I'm fully prepared
for all the self-righteous bullshit

that I'm going to get here
because of the choices I've made,

but I'm ready for that.

I want this. I want to get clean.

And I encourage your reapplication,
Miss Bailey.

But it's not me you'll have to convince.

Come back in a couple of weeks
and I'll put in a good word for you

with whoever is sitting here.

Harry, it's Dimitri. Something's wrong.

Thank you, Miss Bailey.

Go ahead, Alpha two.

I've searched the ship. The explosives Abib
brought onboard are gone. All of them.

There must be another plan, another target.

- The submersibles.
- Miss Bailey. A moment, please.

Our man on the boat is saying
the explosives are no longer onboard.

Could the submersibles
have already launched?

- May I talk to him?
- Go ahead.

Alpha two, did the boat stop at any point?

Did you see anything unusual?

Yeah. We stopped in the middle of nowhere.

I was locked up below, but I heard the
crane, and two boats low in the water.

I assumed it was the pirates leaving.

All right. Patch yourself up
and come home, Alpha two.

The boat run at Plymouth was a diversion.

The submersibles were in the container
along with the explosives.

- What's the submersibles' range?
- About five to six hundred miles.

Christ, they could be anywhere.
Ruth, Tariq, start searching for potential targets.

Alert the RN and the Coastguard.
We have to assume the UK is the target again.

I'll red-flash the naval bases.

They wouldn't even get close.
Aerial patrols, minefields.

Well, same goes for coastal power stations.
They're far too well-protected.

- What about commercial ports?
- Not high profile enough.

They wouldn't go to all this trouble
to blow up Southampton Docks.

"To strike at the heart
of British power..."

How big are these things?
Could they fit through the Thames Barrier?

- Yeah.
- The Thames defence system, Sentry.

It should be able to detect
and neutralise anything like this.

Tell them what to expect.
Beth, how fast do the submersibles travel?

Fast. 40 knots?

So, given the current location
of the Hanover Star,

if they launched six hours ago
within a 50-mile radius of here...

- God, they could be in the river by now.
- Sentry's offline. It went down this morning.

Now there's no chance
of getting a missile lock on them.

- It must have been hacked.
- Talwar.

Okay, Tariq get onto the Thames Barrier.
Tell them to close it, now!

Abib launches the submersibles,

Talwar takes out the defence system...
The Houses of Parliament?

They've been looking for a way to combine
cyber and physical attacks for years.

We need to shut him down. Now.

You go with him.
He may need your knowledge.

Okay, let's make the calls.

Evacuate the HP, Six and any other
prominent government bankside buildings.

After 9/11, various last-resort measures
were put in place

only to be used in the darkest hour when
all other counter-measures have failed.

Sorry, what are we talking about?

Beneath the Houses of Parliament,
in a reinforced chamber,

there's an electromagnetic pulse bomb.

Its conventional blast
will be contained by the room,

but it will kill everything electrical
within one kilometre.

Could we fire it? Now?

It's not that simple.
There's a reason it's a measure of last resort.

It'll take out everything within that radius
- That's pacemakers, life-support machines,

even aircraft are at risk.

Lucas, there's two people
at the rear of the property, ground floor.

One travelling upstairs.

Armed police!
Stay still! Stay still!

- Armed police!
- Move that over!

Get down now! Get down!

Get Sentry back online! Now!

- What are you talking about?
- Are you Talwar?

- I don't know what you're talking about!
- Who is Talwar?

I don't know what you're talking about.
Please!

Lucas, she's upstairs!

Get down on the floor!
Get down now!

She's Talwar!

You can't stop it.

No, but you can. Do it, now.

Do it!

Lucas, the Thames Barrier have

reported that the submersibles
passed through.

It gives us about five minutes
before they reach the HP.

We can't guarantee
complete evacuation in that time.

You have to get Sentry back up.

Understood.

Reactivate the system.

Do it now.

Don't think I won't kill you
because you're a teenage girl.

She wants to be a martyr.

What would you suggest?

Get her parents up here now.

If Lucas can't reactivate Sentry,
we've no choice but to detonate the EMP.

- We risk a few deaths to prevent thousands.
- The subs could be duds. They could miss.

Abib could have made any one
of a hundred tiny miscalculations.

This is your last chance
to reactivate the system.

No!

Please don't make me do this.

These are the choices I didn't want
to have to make any more.

These are the choices we need you to make.

Look at your mother!

We give Lucas as long as possible.

Don't make me do this!

Harry, she's not budging.

This is Harry Pearce, protocol 17872.

Stand by to detonate the EMP bomb
on my mark.

Two torpedo-like objects
approaching Westminster Bridge.

No time left.

Three, two, one, mark.

It's over.

You failed.

You failed.

Take her away.

Move.

I'm really rather resentful about
having to trot out all this nonsense

about a chain reaction on the Tube.

I saw you on the Six. You were magnificent.

You made an extraordinarily difficult
decision today, Harry.

I applaud you for it.

Yet I suppose that's the only thanks
you'll ever get.

Unless a peerage tempts?

I am sufficiently ennobled,
thank you very much.

And you can dispose of that letter,
Home Secretary.

Oh. Glad to hear it. I mean that.

Well. I'm sure I'm due at Mumsnet
or something.

Until the next catastrophe.

St Thomas's backup generator
kicked in just in time.

I thought you'd want to know.

So I only caused the deaths of nine people.

They're having to bring
the submersibles up by night,

but the navy divers have examined them
and say they're legit.

So nine people died in the EMP,
but you saved thousands.

Is it all just maths, Ruth?

I think sometimes it is.

I'm going to offer Beth a job.
We need different kinds of people here.

- In fact, I'd like you to tell her.
- I will.

I've been thinking about why I said, um...

no to, you know...
- Ruth, you don't have to...

Because it would be a lie, Harry.

Can you even picture it?

Us in a little house in Sussex?

What would we do?

What we would talk about
when the neighbours came round?

I think we've forfeited the chance

for that sort of life, Harry, you and me.

Things we've seen together,

things we've done.

And here we can face all that in the open.

There, we'd have to hide it away.

We couldn't be more together
than we are right now.

Will you sort out Beth's clearances?

I will.

Has Beth gone?

Yeah, she just left.
You should catch her if you hurry.

I take it you're telling her the good news.

You're not pleased?

I'm not sure about her.

In fact, I plan on doing a bit of
background research, starting tonight.

Actually, there is one thing, she doesn't
have anywhere to stay in London.

You've got a spare room, right?

- Oh, Lucas, I...
- Won't be forever.

I want her kept close.

- But I...
- Thanks, Ruth.

It's not really you, is it?

15 years and you look just the same.

Seems terribly unfair.

Get away from me.

A stroke

rather curtails one's plans
for world domination.

Whatever it is you want, Vaughn,
you're not getting it!

Our actions mar our makers.
We're the children of our own deeds.

I was marred by what we did.
Looks like you were made.

This is for you.

I'll go.

Just tell me one thing. I'm too curious.

What's it been like?

What's what been like?

Being Lucas North, of course.

Oh, listen. I'm sorry.
I didn't mean to upset you. I'll go.

Good to see you, John.

Deadly Soviet nerve agent used
in Afghanistan to obliterate entire towns.

Well, that's tantamount to genocide.

And all to keep the oil tap running.

- Did you open the suitcase?
- How did you get this number?

Leave me alone.

It's me.

Do you think we should be sharing
late-night t?te-?-t?tes?

You should have been honest with us, Beth.

Whereas you've got nothing to hide,
have you, Lucas?

Beth!