Smiley's People (1982): Season 1, Episode 3 - Episode #1.3 - full transcript

George calls on his now retired former colleague Toby Esterhase who tells him the General approached 2 weeks before his death and asked him to collect a document for him. Toby doesn't think much of the old General or some of his cronies such as Otto Leipzig, a peddler of information, most of it made up. George does remind him however that Otto's information about Moscow Centre, the headquarters of the KGB, was usually first-rate. George also visits Connie Sachs, Mother Russia as she was known before she retired from - or being pushed out of, she would say - the Circus. George wants her memory and she tells him of Otto Leipzig and a ginger-haired Soviet spy called Oleg Kirov, or the Ginger Pig, as Otto called him. They were university students together and unbeknown to Otto then, Kirov was already a spy shopping the more radical students to the authorities. Otto had run into Kirov in Paris struck up a friendship with him but by the time he had set Kirov up for the kill, so to speak, the Circus had gone off émigrés and didn't pursue it.

( engine idling )

( truck roars by )

( rings bell )

( buzzer sounds )

I'd like to look around
if I may.

The little red
spots mean "sold."

If I might have a word
with Mr. Benati?

Oh, I'm afraid Signor Benati
is fully involved right now.

Would you tell him
it's Mr. Angel.

Alan Angel, he does know me.

WOMAN:
Got an angel for you,
as in paradise.



Got it, angel?

Mr. Benati
says that you
can go down.

Why, Mr. Angel.

What pure
pleasure, sir.

It has been far too long.

Come in, please.

After you,
Signor Benati.

I insist.

So how's trade, Toby?

We've been
lucky, George.

We had
a fantastic summer.

Autumn, George...

autumn, I would say,
was on the slow side.

One must live
off one's hump,
actually.



Some coffee,
George?

No, thank you.

Vladimir's dead.

Shot dead on
Hampstead Heath.

Too bad.

That old man, huh?
Too bad.

Oliver Lacon's asked me
to sweep up the bits.

As you used to be
the group's postman,

I thought I'd have
a word with you.

Sure.

You knew, then,
about his death?

( crisply ):
Read it in the papers.

Any theories about who did it?

At his age, George?

After a lifetime
of disappointments,
you might say?

No family,
no prospects,

the group
all washed up.

I assumed he had
done it himself,
naturally.

Naturally.

Anyway, you didn't do it,
which is nice.

Huh!

George, you crazy?

Shouldn't this
be numbered, Toby,

if it's a Degas?

Degas... that's
a very gray area, George.

You got to know
exactly what you're
dealing with.

But this one is genuine?

Totally.

Would you sell
it to me?

What's that?

Just out of academic interest,
is it for sale?

If I offered to buy it,

would I be
out of court?

Oh, don't be ridiculous,
we're talking thousands.

Know what I mean?

It's like a year's
pension or something.

George, listen.

At a certain age

a man's got to be
what he deserves.

I spent 15 years at the Circus

trying to be
an English gentleman.

( laughs
mirthlessly )

You know
what I am now?

A cheap Austro-Hungarian
in expensive clothes.

I've come home.

When was the last time
you had anything to do

with Vladi's network, Toby?

George, George,
the name is Benati, okay?

I'm not called Hector.

Definitely not
Toby Esterhase.

I have an alibi
for every day of the year

hiding from my bank manager.

You think I want trouble
around my neck?

Emigr?s, police, even?

This is an interrogation, George?

You know me, Toby.

Sure, I know you, George.

You want matches
so you can burn my feet?

It wasn't suicide.

It definitely wasn't suicide.

I saw the body, believe me.

That's the worry, you see--
cause and effect.

Toby quarrels with
Vladimir one day.

Vladimir gets shot with a Russian
gun the next.

In police terms,

that's what they call
an embarrassing chain of events.

In our terms, too, actually.

George, what the hell
is "quarrel"?

I never quarreled
with the old man in my life.

Mikhel says you did.

You go talking to Mikhel?

You got some pretty lousy
friends suddenly.

I'm embarrassed.

According to Mikhel,

the old man was very
bitter about you.

"Hector is no good."

What happened to make Vladimir
so passionate about you?

I'd like to keep it away from
the police if I can, you see.

And Saul Enderby, if I can.

George, kindly answer
me something.

Who is speaking here?

Is it George Smiley?

Is it Oliver Lacon?

Who is speaking, please?

You met Vladimir.

What happened?

You tell me that,

and I'll tell you
who's speaking.

( sighs )

Vladimir put up
a distress rocket.

Not through the Circus, surely?

Through friends of mine.

When?

Two weeks ago.

He asks to see me immediately,

like he's stolen
the Kremlin codes--

a crash meeting.

Where?

In the Science Museum, top floor.

All those airplanes.

Lot of kiddies eating crisps.

And he put a proposition?

He wanted me to play
courier for him.

To carry what?

He was not precise.

It was documentary.

It was small.

No concealment needed.

And the where?

Did Vladimir tell you that, too?

Germany.

Which one?

Ours, the north of it.

Hamburg.

It was a private arrangement.

No Circus involvement
till we'd done the job.

And the compensation
for your labors?

First we take
the document to Max.

That's you, George.

Max would know its meaning.

Max would reward us.

Gifts, promotion, medals.

Maybe we get lunch

with the Queen.

( laughs
mirthlessly )

Only problem was
Vladimir didn't know

you were on the shelf

and the Circus had joined the
Boy Scouts.

Finito.

( bell rings upstairs,
buzzer sounds )

Cigarette, George?

You smoke these days?

Glass of sherry maybe?

You want to drop
this line of inquiry, George.

That is my strong advice to you.

Abandon it.

The point is,

you sent him packing.

He appealed to you, and you
slammed the door in his face.

And you want to know why, maybe?

Remember the name Otto Leipzig,
by any chance?

Fabricator.

Intelligence peddler.

Confidence man.

Sex maniac.

Pimp.

Holder many times

of our Creep of the Year award.

Remember that great hero?

It wasn't all fabrication,
though, was it?

His Moscow Center material,
for instance.

I don't remember we ever
faulted him on that, ever.

Vladimir trusted him implicitly.

On the Moscow stuff, so did we.

George, where the hell
are you going with your mind?

And he had a partner.

Yes, that comes
back to me, too--

an immigrant, an East German.

( derisively ):
Worse than East German-- Saxon.

Name of Kretzschmar.

First name Claus.

Claus with a 'C,'
don't ask me why.

I mean, these guys
have no logic at all.

Claus Kretzschmar
was also a creep--

a blond creep, lot of muscles.

But that was long ago, Toby.

Who cares?

It was a perfect marriage.

Then I expect it didn't last.

How is she, George?

Fine, just fine.

George, listen.

Who are you fooling... okay?

George, listen to me once,
please.

Okay?

Maybe I give you once a lecture.

George, I owe you.

No, you got to listen.

So you pulled me from out of
the gutter once in Vienna

when I was a stinking kid.

I was a Leipzig-- a bum.

So you got me
my job with the Circus.

So we had a lot of times
together, stole some horses.

You remember the first
rule of retirement, George?

No moonlighting.

No fooling with loose ends.

No private enterprise--

ever.

You remember
who preaches this rule?

At Sarratt in the corridors?

George Smiley did.

Quote: "When
it's over, it's over.

"Pull down the shutters.

Go home." Unquote.

We're over, George.

We got no license.

They don't want us anymore.

Forget it.

So... Ann gave you a bad time

with Bill Haydon.

So there's Karla.

Karla was Bill's
big daddy in Moscow.

I mean, George, I mean,
this gets very crude.

You know what I mean?

It puts a strain on friendship.

Otto Leipzig gave a party recently.

Recognize any of his guests?

Who's the second man, Toby?

George, listen.

You've got to give this up.

The crowds have all gone home.

Who is he?

George, pay attention
to me, please.

Now, you listen.

People forge things
like that these days.

You don't understand
these matters.

You do not buy photographs

from Otto Leipzig.

You don't buy Degas from
Signor Benati, you follow me?

Is this a forgery?

I hope so.

Leipzig had a man
called Kirov in play,

a Russian intelligence
officer based on Paris.

Is this Kirov?

Yes, could be.

And is?

Sure.

You don't want to get caught
between those two, George.

You're too young.

Leipzig traveled a lot.

How did we raise him
if we needed him?

For crash meetings,

we contacted Claus Kretzschmar.

Now, George,
for God's sake, please,

hear me once.

So how did we
reach Kretzschmar?

He's got a nightclub.

Or more a cathouse.

We left a message there.

What's it called?

Kretzschmar's nightclub--
what's it called?

The Blue Diamond.

Der Blaue Diamant.

In Hamburg?

Sure.

St. Pauli-- the clean side.

Now, George, don't do it, okay?

Whatever it is, drop it.

Cheers.

Love to Ann.

What else did
Vladimir tell you

about Leipzig's
information?

Nothing.

He said the Sandman was looking

for a legend for a girl.

Like before.

Now, George, please.

That guy...

You know why they call Karla
the Sandman, don't you?

He has a way of putting to sleep
whoever comes too close to him.

Like Vladimir, for instance.

Ever seen one of these before?

From a lady.

She wrote to Vladi
asking for help.

She wants
a magician sent her.

She thinks she's
going to be killed.

Fifteenth district.

George, do me a favor, okay?

You want a Hungarian
baby-sitter someday,

call me.

You go messing around

with creeps like
Kirov and Leipzig,

you better have a creep
like Toby look after you.

You're an old spy
in a hurry, George.

You used to say
they were the worst.

Oh, they are, Toby.

They are.

Now, don't tell me
I was speeding.

Oh, I wouldn't
dream of it, sir.

You remember me, sir?
Ferguson?

I used to head up
the transport pool

in the days
when you were Chief.

And what are you doing
now I'm not Chief?

General factotum, sir.

Part-time, but still
on the side of the angels.

I didn't know
we had any angels.

I've got a message
from the top, sir.

It's nothing personal,
if you take my meaning,

but he says, "That's it."

What's "it"?

Time to call it
a day, sir.

He doesn't think you
need go any further,

if you'll forgive me.

Ferguson, I am
an honorary fellow

of Lincoln
College, Oxford.

I have dining
rights there

and limited facilities
for improving my mind.

Is Sir Saul Enderby
proposing to place me

under house arrest?

Oh, no, sir.

It's not
like that a bit.

Very well, then.

You go back to London,
and I'll go to Oxford.

Yes, sir.

You did remember me,
didn't you, sir?

Ferguson?

Of course I did.

( car starts up )

( dogs barking )

( dog barks, then howls )

( several dogs barking )

( quietly ):
You said you would
never come here.

You swore!

You said you'd
leave her in peace!

I'm sorry, Hilary.

It's only a fleeting visit,
I promise.

WOMAN:
What is it, Hils?

Bog-weevil,
budgie or giraffe?

It's human, Con.

CON:
She-human
or the other thing?

It's George, Con.

CON:
George?

Which George?

Connie, it's me.

Damn you, George Smiley.

Damn you
and all who sail in you.

Welcome to Siberia.

Hello, Con.

Hils.

I said Hils!

Yes, Con?

Go and feed
the doggie-wogs,

and when
you've done that,

feed the filthy
chickadees.

Go on,
hoof it, darling.

Nothing he can
do to you now.

He's shot his bolt and,
God knows, so have I.

Well?

Come on.

Connie's not
coming back, you know.

The old fool's hung up
her boots for good.

So if that's
what you're after,

you can tell Saul Enderby

to shove it up his
smoke and pipe it.

Connie's for the
shredder, George.

The leech tries to fool me.

That's because he's a funk.

It's death.

The Big D, that's
what I'm suffering from.

Is that booze you're
toting in your pocket

or a bloody great gun?

It's fatal either way.

Oh, goody.

Let's have lots.

How's that cow Ann?

Flourishing, I gather.

You gather?

Wish you
would gather.

Gather her up for good,
or else drop her down a hole.

All right,
what are you after?

You never did anything
yet without a reason.

Mud in your eye.

And in yours, Con.

I need
your memory, Con.

Bust.

Out of order.

I've discovered love
since we parted.

Addles the hormones.

Rots the teeth.

It's one of those old cases

that's popped alive again,
the way they do.

Nobody seems to know
the full story except Connie.

Mice eaten the files,
have they?

You know how mice are.

I know
how rats are.

How is the bastard, anyway?

Which one?

Saul bloody Enderby,
of course.

Eating well, is he?

Coat shiny? Nose wet?

What was it
you used to say?

"I wouldn't trust Saul Enderby

further than I could
throw Oliver Lacon."

( both chuckle )

Kirov, Connie.

Oleg Kirov.

Ring a bell?

Give me
a "once upon a time."

Toby Esterhase
still crawling around

on his belly, is he?

They all
remember you, too.

You wouldn't work
for that shower, George.

Not for all
the gold in Moscow.

You're flying solo.

You've got
your Karla look.

Once upon a time

there was a low-grade
Moscow Center hood

called Uncle Oleg Kirov.

Based on Paris,
but worked the Western circuit.

Vladimir put us on to him.

Go on from there.

Oh, Vladimir, yes.

How is the old stoat?

Still terrifying

the virgins
of Paddington, I trust.

I expect so.

I thought he
walked into a bullet

the other night.

Suppose you want me

to tell you
who shot him.

Well, if you do
happen to know, Con,

I'm sure we'd all be
very grateful for a name.

( chuckles )

George Smiley.

The Chelsea
pensioner himself.

Gawd 'elp us.

Fought every war
since Thermopolae,

hot, cold
and deep frozen.

Give it up, George.

Be like
the old fool here.

Grab yourself a bit of love
and wait for Armageddon.

"Tell Max it concerns
the Sandman."

Vladimir sent me that
message three days ago.

He said he had proofs.

He walked into his bullet
trying to get them to me.

The fat gentleman
on the left

is Oleg Kirov,
if you remember him.

Oh, I'm blind.

Fish that lamp over.

The Ginger Pig!

Caught at last!

It's a fake.

No, it's not.

Otto Leipzig
finally nailed him.

He's put on a year
or two, hasn't he?

That's what hate does for you.

Where's the confession?

What did
he want for it?

Well, pay him.

Give him the whole bloody
reptile fund if he wants it.

But pay him!

Not until I've heard

the authorized version
from Connie.

Karla would grind Kirov
into the dust for this!

Karla would get hold of his...

Go and see

to the mad bitch.

Make sure she
doesn't chuck herself

into the millrace.

( humming softly to herself )

George!

Still here, Con.

CONNIE:
It concerns the Sandman

and what?

The Sandman is putting together
a legend for a girl.

CONNIE:
Again?

So it seems.

You'll never crack it, George.

How is she?

Seems fine.

CONNIE:
Well, stop loafing
and come back in here.

CONNIE:
Do you want
the works?

On the record, off the record,

all the maybes.

They were students together.

Leipzig and Kirov?

No, you silly ass.

Bob Hope and Fred Astaire.

25 bleeding years ago.

Tallinn University,
Estonia.

Leipzig pulled the girls

and the Ginger Pig
grunted along behind,

gobbling up
his leavings,
adoring him...

And betraying him.

Naturally, darling,
don't be a ninny.

Kirov was cutting his milk
teeth for Moscow Center.

Was he?

Oh, stop
flirting, George.

Kiev training school,
course '59.

One of the worst vintages
they ever had,

and that's saying something.

And at university?

Stirring up the
Estonian dissidents.

Organizing them,

encouraging them,

and then shopping them
to the secret police.

All charm, our little Kirov--
always was.

Leipzig was
a rogue, of course.

Into all the rackets.

Foreign currency,
bit of pimping.

But he was straight.

It never crossed his mind that
Kirov could be a stool pigeon

till it was too late.

Still love me, George?

Like you used to?

Kirov betrays
the dissident students,

the secret police
round them up,

Leipzig included.

Leipzig does
the impossible
and escapes.

Which is more
than some of us ever did.

George Smiley--
born in captivity.

And 20 years later,
Kirov pops up in Paris.

And while
in Paris...

Assistant to the assistant

to the assistant
cultural attach?,
Soviet embassy.

"Le cochon culturel."

What's "ginger" in Frog?

Oh, come on, Con,
let's cut away the wood.

And while in Paris is
seen by Vladimir's people

and recognized.

"Kirov, the spy of Tallinn."

Right?

Oh, I've forgotten.

Get me a drink.

So Vladimir
was on the warpath.

He needs a befriender.

Someone to lead Kirov
into sinful ways.

So who
did he choose?

Otto Leipzig.

Who better?

And brother Kirov,
little suspecting

that his darling Otto
knows his wicked past,

walks into it
with his eyes wide shut.

"Woo-hoo, Otto.

"Haven't seen you for years.

Come and pimp for me
like old times!"

Oh, why did Karla
hire a moron like that?

May as well
have hired him for
the Bolshoi Ballet.

Oh, give it up, George,
it's over.

It's not
a fighting war.

Not like
in our day.

It's gray.

Half-devils versus half-angels.

Nobody knows
where the goodies are.

Karla could be right.

You ever thought of that?

He was Karla's man.

But he was no good.

But what sort of man?

He didn't run moles
like bloody Bill Haydon.

He never used
the Karla apparatus.

He didn't use the Karla codes.

What did he use?

A courier--

sent specially from
Moscow all for him

with love
from Karla.

And that's all we ever knew.

It's dead, George.

Dead as I am-- bloody nearly.

Listen.

It's the end of day--
a Friday.

Somebody's brought a bottle.

All the young faces
gathered around you,

hanging on
your every word.

Mother Russia
spinning her tale.

How Karla's human after all.

He's got a soft spot.

His one Achilles heel.

Karla had a mistress.

Who?

An Estonian girl.

Come on, Con.

Define, expand, come on.

Some partisan
heroine he met

fighting behind
the lines.

Winter '43.

'45 he took her to Moscow,
set her up as his ideal hag.

His Ann.

Tutored her.

Played Pygmalion
games with her.

And then?

Had her topped.

One-way ticket to the Gulag.

What for?

Having doubts.

Going soft on the Revolution.

His idea of a marital tiff.

Mistress had a daughter.

Daughter went bonkers.

Karla shoved her in the bin.

End of story.

Oh, I'm tired.

Must nave been
something I ate...

Connie!

For 30
tiresome years

we flattered you,
stroked you, dried you out,

just for your damned memory.

Now use it!

We owe it to him.

To Vladimir.

You do.

Now, wake up

and be useful.

( door shuts )

I want you to go-- now!

Hilary, I would like you

to make us some
more coffee, please.

( forcefully ):
Hilary, would you please
make us some coffee.

CONNIE:
Make it for him.

( softly ):
I want you to go.

What was her name?

Don't know.

Guess.

Tatiana.

Is that an informed guess?

Little Tatiana...

went to bed
with gentlemen

she hadn't been
formally introduced to.

Painted saucy slogans
on official walls.

Born?

October 12, '53.

Libra.

Didn't save her, though,
all that lovely balance.

Loved the snow, so they say.

Karla used to
take her tobogganing.

Sneak off for weekends,
matters of high business.

Didn't show, to begin with,
the mad part.

Pretty child, bright,
full of fun.

Everything a Bolshie baby
should be.

And then puberty got her
and Mum disappeared...

and the shadows gathered
and gathered

and they
didn't go away.

But he still loved her?

Adored her,
lived for her.

Visited her in the clinics,
fronted for her--

swept the messes
under the carpet,
so they say.

Who's they, Con?

A Red Army doctor.

Psychiatrist.

Slipped the leash while he was
on a conference in Stockholm.

Claims to have treated
the girl Tatiana

in Leningrad
military hospital,

listened to the story
of her life.

Tried to cure her.

Shocks, pills-- didn't work.

Daughter of a high official.

Had the delusion that her father
had her mother bumped off.

And what became of the doctor?

No, George.

Yes, George!

He walked
into a bullet

the day after
his debriefing.

One of those nice, soft ones
that don't hurt.

Bill Haydon must have
sent Karla his address.

Thank you, Con.

You've filled in
the gaps for me.

Hilary.

Hilary, you heard
all that, didn't you?

Do you remember when
you had your nervous breakdown

and we had to send you
away from the Circus?

You signed
a piece of paper

saying you'd never
talk to people

about your
work there--

all the things
you overheard by chance.

Whoever may come here,
whoever it is...

CONNIE:
Oh, leave her alone!

What did you
come here for

if you know it
all anyway?

I was sleep-walking.

I've woken up.

Oh, go home, George Smiley.

Good-bye, Con.

I'm sorry.

George.

That courier--

the one who plays
the messenger boy

between Karla
and the Ginger Pig.

What about him?

His name's Krassky.

First name Stephan.

Doubles as a hit man
in his spare time.

Thank you.

The trouble
with couriers is

you can never get
near enough to buy them.

Elusive swine.

Go well, George.

You too, Con.

( yelling ):
Don't ever come back!

Fascist pig!

Woman hater!

Bastard!

They are telling
it everywhere.

He died like a soldier,
they say.

How does
a soldier die?

He was shot.

Tell me
what I can do.

You...

You can do nothing.

Karl Marx was right.

Self-defense is given
only to barbarians.

You are not
a barbarian, Sergei.

You are a poet.

( ambulance siren
wailing in background )

My husband died
like a soldier--
of cancer.

My lover was a Jew.

He died of a surfeit
of opinions.

My daughter lives,
or dies,

or lives again
according to what
they want of her.

I myself have died
a few times these
last few days.

I do not intend
to do it again.

( key chain jingles )

( trigger clicks,
chamber clicks open )

( ship's horn blowing )

( faint throb of dance music
playing inside nightclub )

( loud rhythmic music playing )

Whiskey, thank you.

I wish to remain alone.

No company.

I shall advise
the house, sir.

Concerning
Herr Kretzschmar...

is he from Saxony,
by any chance?

Yes, sir.

Is Herr Kretzschmar
in the house tonight?

Herr Kretzschmar
is a man with
commitments, sir.

He is obliged
to divide his time

between several
establishments.

If he comes,
have the goodness
to let me know.

He will be here
at 11:00 exactly, sir.

( sensuous jazz playing )

( quiet, sultry jazz playing )

( people conversing quietly )

Herr Kretzschmar
has arrived, sir.

MAN:
Ja?

Komme!

Please.

I understand you were
once a business partner

to an acquaintance of mine
named Otto Leipzig.

I happen to be
visiting Hamburg

and I wondered if
you could tell me
where he is.

His address
doesn't appear to be
listed anywhere.

Who are you, please?

Otto called me Max.

And your business
with Herr Leipzig,

if I may ask?

I represent a large company.

Among other interests, we own a
literary and photographic agency

for freelance reporters.

So?

Recently,
the business relationship

between Herr Leipzig and
my company was revived...

initially by means
of the telephone.

I came here to commission
further work,

assuming, of course,

Herr Leipzig is in
a position to do it.

Of what nature was
this work, please,

that Herr Leipzig
sent to you, Herr Max?

It was a negative photograph
of erotic content.

My firm always insists
on negatives.

Herr Leipzig knew this,
naturally.

I rather think it must
have been taken

from that window.

A peculiarity
of the photograph

is that Herr Leipzig himself
was modeling in it.

One therefore assumes that
a friend or business partner

may have operated the camera.

There is another aspect.

Yes?

Unhappily,
the gentleman
who was acting

as intermediary
on this occasion

met with
a serious accident

shortly after
the negative was
put in our care.

The usual line of communication
with Herr Leipzig

was therefore severed.

How so an accident?

What sort
of accident?

A fatal one.

I came here to talk
to Otto and to warn him.

No disturbances.

RECEPTIONIST:
Yes, sir.

You said Herr Leipzig
was an old acquaintance

of your parent company?

As I believe
you yourself were,

long ago,
Herr Kretzschmar.

Herr Leipzig corresponded
with my company

through a certain "General."

A few years ago,
the General was obliged

to move from Paris to London,
but Otto kept in touch with him.

Until his accident.

Precisely.

It was a traffic accident?

An old man a bit careless?

He was shot.

It wasn't suicide
or an accident

or anything like that.

Naturally.

You have met Otto?

You know him?

I have met him once.

Where?

I am not at liberty to say.

Have you brought me something...

such as a letter
of introduction?

A card, for instance?

No.

Nothing to show.

That's a pity.

Perhaps when I have seen
Herr Leipzig,

I shall understand
your question better.

But you have seen
it evidently,

this photograph?

You have it with you, maybe?

I wish to explain to you.

I run a decent house here.

I am not in the habit
of photographing clients.

Other people sell ties.

I sell sex.

The important thing to me

is to conduct my business in
an orderly and correct manner.

But this was not business.

This was friendship.

Let's go over here.

Want a drink?

Scotch?

Cognac?

SMILEY:
Thank you, no.

You knew him,
Herr Max?

That old General?

You were personally
connected with him?

Yes.

He was something,
I understand.

He was indeed.

A lion.

A lion.

Otto was crazy
about him.

"Claus"...

My name is Claus.

"Claus," he would say.

"That Vladimir,
I love that man."

A lot of people do not
believe in Otto.

Your parent company also,

they do not always
believe in Otto.

This is understandable.

I make no reproach.

But the General,
he believed in Otto.

Not in every detail,
but in the big things.

I also believed him,
in the big things.

You are sure you have nothing
for me, Herr Max?

Beyond the photograph,
I have nothing for you.

The General was shot in England.

Yes.

But you consider nevertheless
Otto, too, is in danger?

Yes, but I think
he has chosen to be.

Me, too.

I also.

This is my clear
impression.

Many years ago, Otto Leipzig
went to prison for me.

In those days
I was not respectable.

Now I have money,
I can afford to be.

We stole something.

He was caught, he lied,
he took the whole rap.

When he came out,
I wanted to pay him.

He declined my offers.

Herr Max, you are an Englishman.

You will appreciate
my position.

Yes, of course.

Indeed.

Maybe two months ago,

the old General comes through
on the telephone.

He needs Otto urgently.

"Not tomorrow,
but tonight."

Then the old man tells me,

"I sent you a letter for him.

Guard it with your life."

Next day a letter comes,
express,

for Kretzschmar,
postmark London.

I find Otto.

He's hiding from trouble
again, no money.

Only one suit he's got, but
he dresses like a film star.

I give him
the old man's letter.

Which is a bulky one?

A long letter.

Many pages.

"Claus," he said to me.

"Lend me some money.

I got to go to Paris."

I lend him 500 marks,
no problem.

He disappears.

A month ago he came to see me.

Here, in this room.

I am being frank.

He was... well,
I would say excited.

He wished to use
the nightclub?

He called it a honey-trap.

He would bring a man
to the club--

an "Ivan," as we call Russians.

This man was the target.

He called him "the target."

He said, "This is
the chance of my life,

everything I have
waited for."

What could I say?

I owed him.

"Also, Claus, I want you
to photograph us."

I said, "No problem."

I have cameras.

Video.

The latest kind,
made in Germany.

He also wanted me
to record conversations.

No problem.

I have my people, you follow me?

Did he give you any idea of why
he wished to blackmail this man?

He was not precise.

"A step on the General's
ladder," he said.

"For me, the target
is enough.

But for the General,
he is only a step
on the ladder."

"For Max also."

Is he right?

And when it was over, what did
Otto think he had achieved?

He laughed.

"Now I have taken him over the
edge, and he can't get back."

That's all
that happened.

And you haven't seen Otto again
since then?

No, Herr Max, not since.

But you do have an address
where I might find him?

Captioned by
Media Access Group at WGBH
access.wgbh.org