Scarecrow and Mrs. King (1983–1987): Season 3, Episode 5 - Welcome to America, Mr. Brand - full transcript

Amanda is asked to babysit an eccentric accountant from England who has an interesting conspiracy theory.

I think it's wonderful that you
have a date with an Englishman.

It's not actually
a date, Mother.

I'm really more of a tour guide.

I think there's just something
so nice about the English.

The family tree is crawling
with them, thank goodness.


I am going to have this whole
family tree finished by this weekend.

Ladies and grandmothers,
announcing the...

- The...
- The Amazing King, stupid.

The Amazing King.

Heh, bravo, bravo. Oh!

Thank you very much, sweetheart.

And I'm his assistant,
The Sort of Amazing King.

The, uh... The magic set that Philip won
selling Christmas cards finally arrived.

It's really neat, Mom.
Watch what I can do.

- Sweetheart do you...
- Nothing up my sleeves.


- Sweetheart, let's really...
- Now you see it and now you...


Philip, that was
a very good try.

It's simple. The U.N. is
hosting the ICEP here in D.C.

OIS is making some
VIPs our responsibility.

We're jumping on them
ASAP. Any questions?

We'll use team
tactics, full-court press,

sleep on your own
time. That's it. Have fun.

Who do you got?

- Kenneth Clayton-Dobbs?
- Mm-hm.

Seventh Earl of Twickensham.

Chairman of the International
Conference on Economic Progress.

Aha, and I get a, mm,
65-year-old assistant secretary...

of industrial mobilization
from Tasmania.

Terrific. Thanks a
lot, Billy. Tsk, real nice.

- Oh, there's one other thing.
- Huh.

Totally unrelated
to the conference.

There's a, uh, MI6
employee having a vacation.

No, no, hold it. I don't have
time to babysit a British agent.

Oh, he's not an agent. He's an
accountant in their pension department.

If we want red-carpet
treatment in England...

We've gotta roll
it out here. I know.

- But, man, I am going to be swamped.
- I thought Amanda would be perfect.

Absolutely perfect, yeah.

Except the last
time she did that...

she spent the evening arm
wrestling that octopus from Interpol.

I don't think she'll
have to worry.


Lee, the Bennington Club.

Now, the agency is gonna
pick up the check, right?

It doesn't make any
difference because he's English.

And he'll probably
offer to pick it up.

- Yeah. Listen, Amanda.
- Yeah.


This isn't going to be exactly
the way I described it, okay?

This is guy is a
little, um, different.

- Uh, I'm sure he's a gentleman.
- You promised no more grabbers.

No, no, no. This guy is
not a grabber, believe me.

He's much better
than that, much.

- What is he, exactly?
- He's an accountant.

- Oh.
- Uh, in pensions.

Oh, oh.

That's really very exciting.

- Oh.
- You owe me for this one, Stetson.


Thank you very much.

Hello. I'm Amanda King.

Ah! Brand. James Brand.

How do you do? Oh! Oh, ha.

- Please.
- Hello. Yes.

Uh, something to drink?

Ah, yes, please, uh,
maybe a glass of white wine.

Yes, and, um, I'll
have a martini, vodka.

Very cold, uh, stirred
not shaken, with a twist.

Very good, sir.

It's funny, you know, you seem
awfully familiar. Have we met?

- Cigarette?
- Uh, no, thank you. Don't smoke.

Uh, London?

- Monte Carlo?
- Uh, I don't think so, heh.

- Istanbul?
- No, I really doubt it.

Oh, Mr. Brand,
are you all right?

Here. Mr. Brand, a little
water. There you are.

You probably
shouldn't smoke either.

- Oh, yes, mother, housewife and agent.
- Mm.

That's absolutely
marvelous, isn't it?

Well, I'm not really a real agent. I
mean, don't even own a trench coat.

Uh, Mrs. King, I'm rather
a good judge of character.

In our business, uh, one
has to be to stay alive.

I think you have what it takes.

- Can I trust you?
- Well, I guess you probably can, yes.

Well, for the last
seven years...

I've been following
a Soviet agent...

who's penetrated the highest
echelon of the British government.

Excuse me, uh, Mr. Brand.

Um, aren't you in the
money...? I mean, pensions?

Ah, yes, pensions, ha-ha-ha.

Anyway, this, um,
dodgy scoundrel...

he's here now in Washington
and he's up to something very big.

It's a perfect opportunity
to catch him in the act.

- Um, you'd better duck. Just in case.
- I better duck?

It's armed with a tear gas
canister. If it's not opened correctly...

Oh, just a moment, heh.

Well, I'd, uh...


Well done.

I'm going to need
some help on this.

Someone with a fresh
view of things. Like you.

You want my help?

- Why?
- Because you and I are kindred spirits.

We march to the beat
of the same drummer.

You know, actually, I
was told to help you.

- All right, what can I do?
- Ah.

Amanda, I am booked solid for
the next three days with ICEP.

I have got diplomats,
kings, earls.

And you run this preposterous story
by me about some Russian agent...

who's going to single-handedly
destroy capitalism?

- Right.
- Huh.

And where did he
get that outfit, huh?

Last time I saw him, he looked
like a light-bulb salesman.

Lee, James has evidence,
seven years’ worth of research.

James has evidence, huh?

Amanda, James
is a pencil pusher.

Besides... Besides, who is going
to do all of this, huh? How? When?

If I knew precisely how
or when, Mr. Stetson...

I wouldn't be
asking for your help.

All right, let's start
with who, then.

Fair enough.

He's the tall man there
in the dark blue suit.

His name is Kenneth Clayton-Dobbs,
the seventh earl of Twickensham.

Actually, he's the first son of a
Welsh coal miner named Glendower.

That's him on the right.

A bright little bugger.

He wangled himself a rugby scholarship
to public school, pulled some strings...

Ooh, nice strings.

Oh, that's me in Torquay
with the Muffly sisters.

- Heh. JAMES: I'm terribly
sorry. Uh, where was I?

Um, here we are. Oh, yes.

Now, he cheated on his entrance
exams and got into Cambridge...

where he hobnobbed
with the upper crust...

lied about his background...

joined all the right clubs.

All part of a very
carefully considered plan.

After Cambridge, the earl
entered the Foreign Office...

where he started mucking things
up wherever he was stationed.

The Suez in '56, the Congo in
'60, Rhodesia in '65, and so on.

Last year he was in Luxembourg.


What, the default on
the World Bank loan?


You see, his speciality
is economic chaos.

And his very next
target is the U.S.



Uh, James, why don't you show Lee
the new pictures that you just took?

Oh, yes. Thank you. Of course,
I want you to see these, yes.

Aha, here we are. Do
you recognize this bloke?


What about that bird?

Wait a second. That's Karla
Krulnikov, KGB at the Soviet embassy.

What's Clayton-Dobbs
doing with her?

And what's he doing
skulking about...

outside the Bureau of Engraving
and Printing in the middle of the night.

Hmm. Better get an ID on this guy. I'll
see if I can run a quick D-20 photo match.

Uh, actually, we've
already done that.

Name is Munson, Edward J. Lives
in D.C. Previous record, forgery.

Well, you know, you were
so busy with the earl, we just...


Why don't we see if Mr. Eddie Munson
plans on coming out of retirement?

Oh, Mr. Stetson. I look
forward to seeing you soon.

Oh, ha.

Oh, Lee, who is that nice man?

That nice man is
Dr. Stanley Chow.

- That's our martial arts master.
- Uh-huh.

And, Lee, aren't you about
due for your annual check-up.

- Yeah, no sweat.
- Oh.

Uh, once a year, we
have to visit Stanley

and re-qualify in
hand-to-hand. It's nothing.

Oh, you have to fight with
that nice little Mr. Chow?

- Oh, Lee, be very careful with him.
- Heh.

Looks are deceiving, Amanda.
Those chaps can handle themselves.

We call him Dr. Pain.

Uh, left to right: uh, untreated,
two days, five days, 10, 20.

Fantastic. Absolutely
fantastic. How does it work?

Well, a chemical in the ink
makes the money fade in sunlight.

Three weeks in circulation and, heh,
it's not worth the paper it's printed on.

How much chemical do we need?

Oh, that's the beauty of it.

Uh, Printing and Engraving
receives a tanker of ink once a month.

Uh, approximately 5000 gallons.

Now this is all you need to
contaminate the whole batch.

Look, heh, you got the money?

Of course, Eddie.

Heh, what did...?

All right. Now I'll go
in, you two stay here.

What, alone? I'd feel
absolutely dreadful...

- if something were to happen.
- Brand, I can handle myself.

Oh, I am certain
you can, old chap...

- it's just that security...
- All right, listen. Uh... Uh...

You both go, I'll stay here
and be the lookout. Go ahead.

It's gas.

That's a lot of
gas to be a leak.

Well, thank you.

Battalion fire chief said there's
no chance this was an accident.

And it's wasn't suicide. Clayton-Dobbs
just made it look that way.

That's quite an imagination
for an accountant.

Well, there's nothing imaginary
about that, is there, old boy, eh?

And I'll tell you how
it was done, shall I?

The stove filled
the room with gas.

A lamp was probably
weighted with a sack of sugar...

which is why the firemen found
a burned lump of it on the floor.

Sugar leaked out of the sack, the lamp
fell, light bulb burst and, um, blooey!

James says that's
Clayton-Dobbs' trademark, sir.

Hold it. Before we go any further
with this, I'm gonna check with London.

With all due respect, Melrose...

I've spent seven long, hard
years trying to get London to listen.

With all due respect,
Brand, you're an accountant.

You know, Billy...

Clayton-Dobbs is throwing a party
at the estate where he's staying.

There will be a whole crowd
of economists, diplomats...

people who've
known him for years.

Let's cover it, see
what we can hear.

Yeah. You should be there,
anyway. Francine, you be his backup.

- Listen, we'll take it from here.
- Yes, sir.

You know, I... I'd kind of
like to have them along.

- You know, as sort of a backup.
- Heh.

I mean, it's only a garden
party. What could happen, heh?

Okay. Okay, but remember
you're just window shopping.

- Window shopping.
- No involvement.

No, sir. No involvement.
Thank you, sir. Yes, sir.

- Okay, let's go Francine.
- Got it.

- Oh, thanks a lot, Lee.
- Much obliged to you, old chap.

So you heard Billy.
You're just watching, right?

- That's right.
- Okay.

That's all we can do until
the medical examiner report...

- on what killed Munson.
- Right.

- Ugh, I gotta go see Dr. Pain.
- Oh, no.

- Well, you be careful.
- I will.

I tell you what, you know. I've had a
bit of experience with the martial arts.

Eastern stuff, primarily. Why
don't I show you a trick or two...

so you can give your doctor a
taste of his own medicine, eh?

I appreciate it, Brand, but, uh, I
told you before I can handle myself.

Yes, yes, look. Here's a little
something I picked up in the Punjab.

The cobra death grip.

I'd never imagined how
tangled one's roots can be?

Still climbing the
family tree, Mother?

We seem to be related to
the fourth earl of Chipstead.

Silly sot. Left his wife for a publican's
daughter who was pregnant...

by the earl's own
brother-in-law, Louis...

- the king's viceroy to France.
- Ooh.

- What happened?
- A duel, naturally.

I mean they killed each other. That
little tart ran off with Louis' second.

- Mom, look what he did.
- Oh, my.

I told him to keep his
hands out of my magic stuff.

Oh, Philip, what is this?
Some kind of a chemical?

- It's just disappearing ink.
- He said it'd make me disappear.

Okay, sweetheart, okay, fellas.

Do me a favor. Disappear
upstairs and do your homework.

You too, young man,
and change that shirt.

- That, uh, must be your Englishman.
- Yes.

Is he tall, dark, handsome?

- Oh, he's... nice.
- He's, uh...?

- Good.
- Yeah. Bye.

Goodbye, sweetheart.

- How lovely you look.
- Hello, James.

- Oh, you look very handsome.
- Oh, thank you so much.

- Oh, that's a beautiful car.
- Oh, how nice of you to notice.

It's an Aston Martin DB5.

- Really?
- Yes, yes, all the extras.

Oh, well, I couldn't do without my power
steering, power breaks, power seats.

- You know, everything.
- Yes, I do.

And I'm afraid I was talking
about something, uh...

little bit more
sophisticated than that.

I tell you what, I'll show you
exactly what I mean, shall I?

You see this? It activates 50-gallon
container of oil for an instant oil slick.

You pull this down, smoke bomb.

Push this down, uh, it activates
two 50-millimeter cannons.

And here, if you press this
in all the way, ejection seat.

James, what are
all these things for?


Right. I want you to keep
an eye... those people.

There's Lee, right
over there by the bar.



- What? What?
- Poor Lee.

How was Dr. Pain?

- Ugh, painful. Very.
- I'm sorry.

Amanda, this
party is a gold mine.

I was talking to a guy
who was in Beirut in '75...

during the scandal that nearly
destroyed the Bank of Great Britain.

- Yeah?
- Guess who was sitting...

- on the board of overseers?
- Clayton-Dobbs?

- Right.
- Yeah.

That little tidbit could just
be the tip of the iceberg.

Francine and I are gonna
work the crowd. Would you...?

Oh, oh.

- Terribly sorry. I am afraid...
- Please I can manage.

- Keep Brand out of trouble?
- Yes.

And let's face it. Amanda,
the guy is a little strange, huh?

Oh, Lee, I like him.

Of course you do. And he's
an okay guy in limited doses.

- But keep him out of trouble.
- I will.

- Amanda, what a lovely outfit.
- Hello, Francine. Thank you.

My mother has the
same thing in fuchsia, heh.

- Join me for a drink?
- Hmm.

Finance and I... Ugh.

Have been dishing the dirt
about Mr. Clayton-Dobbs.

- Hmm. Mm-hm.
- Okay?

We'll stay out of trouble. You
have a nice time with Francine.


- Hello, James.
- I've got to get into that house.

Oh, no. I really don't
think you should do that.

Yes. Look here,
uh, you stay here.

If anything happens, uh, an alarm, gunfire,
whatever, you'll have to cover for me.

Create a distraction.

- Let's talk to Lee about this.
- Goodbye.

James? James could you...?


World economics.
- Ah.

Lee, something
horrible has happened.

- What?
- James has gone into the house.

What the hell is he doing there?

What did I say?

Rick, check that out, please.

- We've gotta create a distraction.
- Oh, yeah, sure. We'll get one delivered.

- Just a moment.
- Yes.

What is it? FRANCINE: Snake.

What did she see?

You all right?
Are you all right?

It's only a garden party.
What could happen?

It's a miracle you
didn't start World War III.

I've made three phone calls to London.
Kenneth Clayton-Dobbs is impeccable.

We talked to a dozen
people at that party.

No one wanted to go on record...

but it's apparent the guy has
well-hidden skeletons in his closet.

Like hanging a ton of paper
in Beirut, extortion in Athens...

phony gold certificates
in Johannesburg?

Rumors. I need
proof, people, proof.

- James, show him the pictures.
- Oh, yes.

All right. Now, James took
those in Clayton-Dobbs' study.

Those are blueprints of the
Bureau of Engraving and Printing.

We think he's planning to
counterfeit U.S. currency.

Yes, sir. From inside the
Bureau of Engraving and Printing.


How? FRANCINE: Eddie Munson.

We think he made plates to
substitute for the real thing.

Clayton-Dobbs is also special consultant
to the secretary of the treasury.

He can get inside the bureau.

During the war, the Germans
tried to disrupt the British economy...

by flooding it with bogus 5-pound
notes. It could happen here.

So all we have to do is check the
money printed and stored at the bureau.

You'd better pray for some
bad greenbacks to show up.

That's right. Here
in Washington.

Bound and determined to embarrass
the whole bloody British Empire if he can.

Could you? Something
suitably scandalous?

Yes, that's marvelous.

After all, he is a bit
bonkers, isn't he?

Fine. Love to Edith.

And my best to Charles
and Di when you see them.


Oh, well, I guess it's
easier in the movies.

- He never missed.
- He?

You know, Mr. B. When I
first saw him in the movies...

I thought he was the
greatest guy in the world.

Indeed. Yes, handsome, strapping
fellow who always got all the birds, heh.

I couldn't even say, "Good day."

Oh, well, you
know, you grow up...

and you realize there
aren't any guys like that.

It doesn't really
seem to matter.

Would you look at that?

I guess the best things really do
happen when you don't try so hard.

Ugh, Billy just called.

Money's perfect,
down to the last dollar.


He's up to no good.
I'm certain of it.

And I'm not going to quit
until I find out exactly what it is.

Well, if I can help...

Um, thanks. I've put you
to enough trouble already.

- Thanks, uh, for dropping me at the hotel.
- Sure.



That was no accident. I am positive.
Somebody tried to run him down.

Amanda, this is Washington.
Jaywalkers are fair game...

especially when
picking up nickels.

Lee, he's in danger. I know it.


Look at this. This is a
telegram that Billy got.

Brand is supposed to be under
observation at a sanitarium in Cornwall.

- Orders from MI6...
- No, uh-uh! I don't believe this.

He's here on his own vacation
and he's doing this on his own.

And besides that, why did
Mr. Melrose get this now, huh?

He checked Brand out
when he first got here, right?

- Why didn't he hear about this before?
- It's out of our hands.

Billy has been asked to hold
onto him until the MI6 guys arrive...

- then we've got to turn him over.
- That's not fair.

It's really not fair. He may be a
little different but he's not crazy.

Amanda, he is an accountant
who thinks he's bloody James Bond.

- The guy is a little strange.
- A little strange?

- Everybody is a little strange sometime.
- Ugh.


I know a research guy
at the Library of Congress.

I will run James' story past him and
see what he can corroborate. All right?

- Way to go, big fella.
- Heh.

I don't believe
it. He's running.

No, he's not running.
He's just wandering.

Don't worry. I'll follow him.

You'll have to. I've
got a 4:00 with Stanley.

Yeah. Oh, well, another
session with Dr. Pain?

The last session. The worst.

- Try to remember the cobra death grip.
- Cobra death grip.

So a telegram from London says
that Mr. Brand is as mad as a hatter.

Big deal, shmig deal.

Big is not the
question here, T.P.

Now, if we presume he's not
nuts, how can you explain it, huh?

Heh. Lee-zo, isn't it obvious? I
mean, Englishman is a big potato.

He's well-connected.
Mr. Brand is a pipsqueak.

Simple transatlantic phone call
could have motivated that telegram.

What about Clayton-Dobbs'
involvement in these economic incidents?

I doubt if the seventh
earl of Twickensham...

would get his delicate
fingers dirty on such things.

Particularly since he died in a
Turkish bordello in, uh, 1957.

- He's dead?
- Mm-hm.

Why doesn't anybody
know about this?

Well, the earl of Twickensham
has never been a very weighty title.

Uh, nobody bothered
to keep tabs out there.

And since this
was more bizarre...

than your standard
Englishman's bordello death...

the family just hushed it
up and let him fade away.

No questions asked.

Mm. Mm.

Double-dipped Belgian chocolate
cherries with brandy centers.

You do know how to
gladden my heart, Lee-zo.

So do you, T.P., so do you.

Well, we may have some
ancestors in common.

Possibly, yes. The Brands go
back to King Edward the Confessor.

Uh, we're particularly
heavy in the Henrys.

You know... Thank you.
- -uh, the second, fifth, the eighth.

Oh, it's so exciting. The
Plantagenet and the Tudor dynasties.

- Any Stuarts?
- No, just the Henrys.


There's probably a stray
Richard somewhere, as well.

Oh, James, I've been so
wor... Heh, we got a telegram.

Yes, I know. I saw you
and Lee talking about me.

Uh, but it's not what it seems.

I think I'll take the
boys some tea.

Amanda, dear, why don't you invest
in a nice pair of overalls for work?

Uh, yes, Mother. I
might do that, heh.

Clayton-Dobbs had that
telegram sent. I'm sure of it.

For the very same
reason he tried to kill me.

It means we're on the
right track. Don't you see?

- Yes, I see. I...
- You believe me, don't you?

- Yes.
- You don't think that I'm...

- Crazy, no, no.
- Do you?

Ah, good. Smashing, smashing.
Come on. No time to lose.

No, no.

Uh, you know, James, I really
can't go anywhere like this.

- I've gotta change.
- Oh.

Don't ever do that, Amanda.

Hmm. Uh... Exc...

When I left the agency, I
picked up Clayton-Dobbs...

outside the British Embassy...
- Uh-huh.

And tailed him to a
Hungarian restaurant...

where he and Krulnikov
had another tête-à-tête.

This is Czechoslovakian-made,
this is. Finest technology available.


Bloody foreigners.

Uh, anyway, uh, where was I? Oh,
yes, um, yes, um, long story short.

Uh, Clayton-Dobbs went on and
on about, uh, intercepting tankers...

and press runs and
shipments of worthless money.

Intercepting tankers, press runs and
worthless money. What does it all mean?

Ha-ha! Well, that's the $18-billion
question, isn't it, eh? Ha, ha.

And the coal miner's son
is sitting on all the answers.

James, the whole
agency is looking for you.

I'm probably risking my job. You've
gotta let me make a phone call.

Amanda, you trust me. Uh, perhaps
Lee does as well. But Mr. Melrose...

Probably thinks you're
nuttier than a fruitcake.

Yes, exactly. Well, you see, I need
time to prove him wrong, until tonight.

Okay. But just until tonight.

And I'm gonna keep my eye
on you every second, all right?

Because somebody's gotta be
responsible for you, James Brand.

I have a confession or two.

My name's not really Brand.

It's Pott. James Clarence Pott.

I changed it to Brand.

You changed it to Brand.

Yes. I saw those movies
too. And read the books.

Suddenly, James Clarence
Pott from Claxton Commons...

seemed so ordinary.

And I always wanted
to be so extraordinary.

Oh, you must have broken
your poor father's heart.

No, I haven't ever told him.

Look, he's leaving.

That must be the tanker
he mentioned to Krulnikov.

We've got to see
where it's going.

James, do you know where we are?

The Bureau of
Engraving and Printing.

I am sorry, Mr. Stetson.

Concept of time out is inconsistent
with an effective hand-to-hand strategy.

In a duel to the death with an
ace KGB killer, you don't call time.

Stanley Chow's office.
Uh, just a moment.

Mr. Stetson, for you.


Just kidding.

Yeah, Stetson here.

Lee, it's Amanda.

Where have you been?
I've been looking for you.

- With James.
- Fantastic.

Tell him my research guy confirms
his suspicions of Clayton-Dobbs.

Right. Now listen, we
followed Clayton-Dobbs...

and we saw him dump
something into a tanker.

And you know where the tanker went?
The Bureau of Engraving and Printing.

I looked up the tanker. It
belongs to a company called...

Atlantic and Chesapeake Industries.
And do you know what they make?

Printing supplies.

It must be printer's
ink inside that tanker.

Right. It's magic.

- What? What's magic?
- It's magic.

What Clayton-Dobbs put inside that
tanker is gonna make the ink disappear...

just like Philip made
Jamie's sweatshirt disappear.

James, where are you going?

Clayton-Dobbs' estate.
We can't wait any longer.

Uh, Lee, James is going. I gotta
go. Maybe you ought to meet us there.

No. No. No, don't go there.

Uh, do the cobra
death grip. James?


Stanley? Stanley?


Okay, you asked for it.

The cobra death grip.

Stanley? Hey.

Krulnikov. That's a bit
bloody brazen of them, isn't it?

What are we gonna do?

I am going to stick my ear against
the wall and see what I can hear.

I've always wanted to know
how the aristocracy lives.

James, you can't
go up there alone.

Amanda, I stumbled on
this seven long years ago.

I followed Clayton-Dobbs' career
through the years and around the globe.

I've given up a good deal of
my life to try to pin him down.

I can't let him slip through
my fingers. Not now.

I need this.

You'd better leave.

No. Look, I'm not going
to drive that crazy car.

And besides that, you can't
go up there alone, James.

You are an accountant, not a
spy. Why don't you act like one?

Probably for the
very same reason...

you're not at home
folding nappies, Mrs. King.

I've always wanted more.

Good luck. You're gonna need it.

Watch out for the hose.

If it isn't the little
accountant from MI6.

You're like a bad meal, old
boy, always popping back up.

Mr. Brand, what are
we going to do with you?

I've tried to be decent
about this, I really have.

It's over, you stuffy twit.

I saw you doctor the ink and
I've alerted the authorities.

You alerted the authorities?
The schizophrenic Mr. Brand?

I'm sure all of Washington is mobilizing
under some red alert even as we speak.

Czechoslovakian made,
finest technology available...

and you've smashed it.

Put him in the limo.

Good show, Amanda.

Oil slick.

Smoke screen.

Smoke screen.

I knew none of this
stuff would work.

Hold it, this is tear gas.

- You all right?
- Yes.

- Where's James?
- In there.

Over here, old chap.

- Just hold on, James.
Relax. JAMES: Thank you.

Lovely to see you. It's
rather awkward in here.

- Oh, James.
- Phew.

No smoke screen, no tear gas.

But after all Amanda, I did
say I had a confession or two.

We sent a full report to MI6. I think
there's a promotion in the works for you.

- Oh, that's wonderful.
- Oh. Heh.

The, uh, cobra death grip.

It laid Dr. Pain flat out.

Well, I'm rather glad. You
see, I just, uh, made it up.

- Good luck.
- Thank you. I'm so very obliged to you.

You made it up.

And you, how can I
possibly thank you?

Oh, well, that's easy.

Just go spend a week with
your father in Claxton Commons...

and tell him about
your new promotion.

It's funny, you know, promotion or
not, I was thinking of doing just that.

You see, I've discovered
something here in America.

What's that?

I have discovered that the name Pott has
a rather nice ring to it, don't you think?

Yes, I do, Mr. Pott.