Episode 1 Spooks

I always liked you Harry...

Your sure moral sense...

Thing is, though, that kind of certainty limits a man...

keeps him small.

Betrayal is a cancer. Let it eat your soul...

not mine.

-Marry me, Ruth.

-I can't, Harry.

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

-My name isn't Lucas North.

-Damn you!

-Time for someone else to stand on the wall.

-This isn't you talking.

Come and meet me.

He blames you, Harry. He'll kill you.

It's my turn.

If you're going to shoot me, shoot me now.

Shoot me now.

The buzzards are circling. You're the spy they want to kick back into the cold.

I'd start preparing for life after MI5.

CAR HORN SOUNDS

-Sir...

-Yes?

We're here.

Thank you.

Apologies for giving you the run-around this morning,

flattered as I am to be deemed worthy of a three-man unit.

It was just two officers.

Oh, yes. My mistake.

Sir.

Good luck today.

Sir Harry Pearce,

Over the last three days, this tribunal has had a full account

of your involvement in the Albany matter.

And the charges made against you are of the utmost severity.

The facts are not in dispute.

You traded a state secret to a foreign power

for the life of an officer with whom you have a personal relationship.

My personal relationships are not relevant.

-Excuse me?

-I had a choice to make,

between two of this nation's intelligence assets -

the Albany deterrent and Ms Evershed.

There was a risk I would lose Albany.

But I knew the technology was worthless...

of little value to the nation.

My assessment of Ms Evershed was the reverse.

I've prepared a report...

detailing her key role in several Security Service operations.

The discovery of the 2009 Birmingham plot,

saving the life of a former section chief from far-right terrorists,

sacrificing her own freedom to ensure mine.

PHONE RINGS

-Hello.

-Her work has saved many lives,

often at grave cost to herself.

I did not put a personal relationship above our security.

-(The Home Secretary...)

-I made an operational decision in the nation's interest.

Please excuse me.

The tribunal needs more time to examine your submissions.

In light of the eight weeks enforced leave that you have already had,

it seems unwise to further waste your expertise while we deliberate.

However, any return to work must be on a probationary basis.

Deviation from protocol will result in immediate suspension.

Erin Watts has been sitting in your seat.

You are required to retain her as section chief.

Do you accept the terms?

I serve my country in whatever capacity asked of me.

Someone jammed the guillotine.

Yes, whoever it was,

no doubt they'll want me to do something in return.

Dimitri heard from Six in Senegal this morning.

They found Lucas North's remains.

They were where John Bateman said they'd be.

I've had two months to go over it.

I can't figure out why he wanted me on that rooftop.

I think he wanted forgiveness.

So, can I see that report?

Not while I still draw breath.

No, ma'am.

I've been arguing for a long time we need to do something, er...

decisive about the situation there.

Britain has been our loyal friend,

but we can't let sentimentality stay our hand.

Not when action so clearly needs to be taken.

Absolutely.

I'll be on the next flight to London.

Thank you, ma'am.

Do I have you to thank, Home Secretary,

for intervening in my tribunal?

Of course it was me, Harry.

Who else is as fond of you?

Unfortunately, I could only

get you a stay of execution, not the full pardon.

They want you out, Harry. They'll get their way eventually.

No surprises.

I'm aware I have not played nicely with the other children.

Would it have killed you to pick up a golf club?

It may well have done, yes.

Well, pragmatism wins out for the moment.

We need our best security people now more than ever.

Bin Laden's death wasn't quite the panacea we'd all hoped for.

You've seen the recent JIC reports?

Yes. And for once, they've got it right.

If the turmoil in the Middle East sees hardline Islamists taking power,

we face a nightmare scenario.

If we do nothing and your scenario comes to pass

Britain will be the whipping boy. We struggle to defend ourselves as it is, but...

if they have the backing of governments...

Is there a long-term strategy?

Yes, we reposition ourselves.

Start winning friends and influencing people.

Particularly the new big boys,

China, Russia, India, Brazil...

and, Harry, that includes your side of things.

Share our expertise. Build relationships.

I'm an intelligence officer. Not a diplomat.

We're all going to have to be diplomats in the new age, Harry.

Sir Harry.

Welcome back.

Erin Watts, I presume.

I hear you decommissioned Beth Bailey.

Her conduct during the Westhouse operation,

her links with the drug cartel, were unacceptable.

I expect higher standards.

It's an honour to serve in Section D, sir.

I've studied your career.

Just call me Harry.

I wouldn't associate too closely with me if I were you.

You're on the fast track to great things.

I'm on the opposite trajectory, wouldn't want any dirt to rub off.

Thank you for your concern.

But I've no interest in being a politician.

PHONE RINGS

Excuse me.

Ruth,

I'd like to see any communiques that came in for me, please.

She'll loosen up after a few years.

How was your, um...break?

At one particularly dark moment, I actually considered gardening.

She's altered my bloody chair. It took me 10 years to get that right.

Well, I'll get Q branch to have a look at it.

-You expecting something?

-Yes.

Who processed this?

Er...

I don't know. I...

Who processed this?

Calum Reed. Nice to meet you.

You filed it low priority?

Er, yeah.

It was sent to a defunct Five PO Box,

from former cut-out, Max Witt, codenamed Sharecropper.

Active during the '70s and '80s. Worked for us out of London and East Berlin.

I decoded it, nonsense. The guy had Alzheimer's.

Had?

Yeah. Died three days ago.

Sorry, did you know him?

Give me the abridged version.

Just said he needed to meet you.

He was 71.

Hadn't worked for us for 20 years.

Low priority, was I wrong?

No.

Just young.

What?

I think he likes me.

-ON SPEAKER PHONE:

-'Harry?'

Tariq.

Tell Calum to find out where they're holding Max Witt's body.

-'I want a post-mortem.'

-Will do.

Max Witt.

Cold War cut-out.

MI6 officer.

Codenamed Sharecropper.

Murdered some time during the last 72 hours.

He was force-fed an overdose of his medication.

He'd been trying to contact me, first with the message here,

and then another to my home asking me to check a dead drop he used to use.

It had this message from Max.

What I'm about to tell you exceeds all your security clearances...

so, you didn't hear it from me.

Ilya Andreevich Gavrik.

Former KGB legend,

oligarch,

and Russia's new minister for international development.

And your opposite number in Berlin.

This is Elena Gavrik, Ilya's wife,

former MI6 asset, Codenamed Tourmaline.

She communicated via Max,

and became the best Soviet source of the whole 1980s.

We had Gavrik's wife?

CIA Deputy Director James Coaver.

We were stationed together in Berlin.

Jim and I turned her in '81, when I was with Six.

This is Cold War stuff. How come it isn't declassified?

Well, Tourmaline was never exposed, never extracted.

She's still in Russia with Gavrik.

Why?

Plans were made for her defection but it never came to fruition.

If Max meant she was in danger of exposure,

the fallout will be catastrophic.

The wife of a senior Russian cabinet minister,

exposed as a Western spy.

Relations with the Kremlin would simply cease.

We need to find out what Max knew.

And why it got him killed.

Whatever this is, it can go no further.

Ok, Ruth, find out whatever you can about Ilya and Elena Gavrik.

Sweep all dead-drops he could have used, obsolete or otherwise.

Calum, work with Tariq, focus on his house.

Find out who visited him in the last three days.

CCTV in Witt's street went down the day before he died.

How about private cameras nearby?

One step ahead of you.

Building opposite his has one that faces the street.

-And have you checked from three days ago?

-Yep.

Lots of mums with prams,

blue-rinse brigade,

and then this guy.

Takes CCTV out, keeps his head down,

He's been trained.

There's no chance of ID-ing him at that distance, though.

Could try a motion analysis filter.

Tariq, you prepare the match fields, if I do the model?

-Should I be getting my hopes up?

-They're rolling it out at airports.

Everyone moves uniquely. Footfall, weight distribution, pace.

Your walk's like a fingerprint.

OK.

Ready to scan for matches?

I'll start with a tight sample first. Just the surrounding streets.

Whoa, yeah. Got a possible motion match.

Getting into a car a mile away.

It's a hire car, registered to a Richard Costa.

-Flat 1, 8 Park Walk, Lambeth.

-Hopefully Mr Costa will have some answers.

Come on, get Dimitri to meet us there.

OK, ghost sweep. Leave everything as you find it.

I've got a laptop.

I can copy the hard drive. Won't leave a trace.

How long will that take?

This bad boy can rip 2 Gigs a second. Under a minute.

-Damn it!

-What?

-There's a countdown on the password.

Enter the right one in ten seconds or get locked out.

Move!

-You OK?

-Fine.

It's like we were never here!

-Are they all right?

-Yes. But I take it personally

-when somebody tries to blow up my officers.

-I called in a favour at Six.

They have someone on the inside at a housekeeping service

who cleans for Moscow's great and good.

And the word is that Ilya and Elena Gavrik left Russia over a week ago.

On the quiet. No-one's meant to know they're gone.

Gone where?

Here. They're in London.

That's impossible. He's a Russian minister.

We'd have been briefed. It would be on the news.

So he doesn't want us to know he's here.

Gavrik sneaks into the country doing something he doesn't want us to know about.

His wife, your former asset, wants to warn us.

The only way she knows how to contact you is via Max Witt, like she did in the '80s.

Gavrik finds out and has Witt silenced by the owner of our exploding laptop -

-who now knows that we're onto him.

-Gavrik worships Elena.

But if he's found out she betrayed him, she's already dead.

-Calum, what about the laptop?

-The hard drive's in bits,

Tariq's working on it. Data might be recoverable.

But we need to find Gavrik. Get surveillance on him.

No. I know this man. He's too good. He'll see you coming.

We have one person dead already. We have to tread carefully.

This is a senior politician. So... no direct surveillance on Gavrik.

You heard him.

Classified diplomatic flight from Moscow landed at RAF Brize Norton nine days ago -

passengers one male, one female picked up by a car with government plates. All other details redacted.

-We smuggled him in?

-We could track him from that.

If Harry had the balls to let us.

Calum, a word.

Inside or outside this building,

you represent this nation's security services.

And since I brought you here, you also represent me - show some respect.

You knew I wouldn't be doffing my cap to dead white males

who still think they can run it all from their armchairs.

If you think Harry Pearce is one of them,

you need to do your homework.

Section Chief pet!

What can I say? She admires my work.

So, Admiral,

you kill anyone when you were in the SBS?

Yeah, and do you know what? I miss it.

Not another one. Come in. Knocking isn't customary around here.

Someone helped Gavrik into the country,

opened the back door for him and then covered it up.

We've pulled GPS data from the official car that picked him up at Brize Norton.

We can track it, find him.

Harry...

Let us gather live intel on Gavrik, find out what he's doing here.

You say that he's good.

So are your team.

So am I.

You get the merest inkling that he or his people are on to you...

..you pull back.

Movement by the entrance.

Receiving your image, Alpha Two.

Probable negative.

A woman on her own.

Leningrad rules. Never exit a building together.

Old spies, creatures of habit.

Stay on the woman. We need to see her face.

Come on, love. Give us a twirl.

-Confirmed. That's Tourmaline.

-Alive and well.

No-one else coming.

No, hang on.

White male.

It's Gavrik. Positive ID.

You are a go, Alpha Three.

'Always when I'm on my break.'

-Clear signal.

-Alpha One, are you receiving?

Pursuing.

Alpha One. Stay two streets away. Do not let them see you.

They're stopping.

They seem to be heading towards the Denham club.

OK, I'm pulling over. I'm going to follow on foot.

It's Towers.

Control, they're meeting the Home Secretary.

Harry!

My cardiologist will swing for you.

What the hell are you doing skulking around in my drive?

You smuggled a senior member of the Russian Cabinet

into this country without briefing the security services.

I'd quite like to know why.

How dare you challenge me like this!

My God, after I supported you, stood up for you.

I couldn't say anything, damn it. They were the terms.

Terms?

You were about to be told.

We're getting into bed with Russia, Harry.

Secret, high-level talks over the next few weeks.

The aim is nothing short of a new special relationship.

A special relationship with Russia?!

America is getting more isolationist by the day. We need a new friend.

Russia doesn't have the same image problems in the Middle East.

Gives us a chance to seem a little more chummy

with whatever new regimes pop up there.

Oh, get your head out of the Cold War, Harry.

They're not all that different from us these days.

Gavrik is their lead negotiator.

That man has personally executed British assets.

He asked for you.

What?!

He admires you greatly.

That's why he wants you involved on the security operation during the talks.

It's why you were reinstated.

Now, there's a bash for the Russians tomorrow night.

Diplomatic reception doo-dah to give them a cover reason to be here.

Can't keep them holed up for ever.

I want you there, making nice with the old enemy.

Can I rely on you, Harry?

You can rely on me, Home Secretary.

I know you and Gavrik were...

..intertwined.

Anything I should know?

Nothing springs to mind.

Good.

There are people already on their way.

I've triggered an alarm.

No, you haven't.

Hello again.

You were in the park.

I didn't expect you'd recognise me.

The last time you saw me I was a child.

I know about my mother,

Tourmaline.

Sasha?

That's a Stechkin.

You're FSB.

Tell me one thing...

before I kill you.

Do you ever think about the lives you ruin?

I don't know what you mean.

Stop!

She's a spy for the West.

Turned by you, to spy on her country...

..on her husband, my father.

Your best Russian asset since '81.

Someone's spun you quite a yarn.

I found this, six weeks ago.

She'd hidden it.

A request for information...

from you.

Your codes, your cipher, your MI5 codename.

It led me to everything else.

Do you deny you wrote it?

I don't think I can.

You could have shot me the moment I came in here,

which makes me think that perhaps killing me is not your only option.

No.

Just the most attractive.

And, of course, you're not stupid enough to believe

that I'm the only person who knows that your mother is still active.

You burn her file,

sever all contact and then you can live.

I've told no-one else what I know.

Yet.

If you've discovered a spy,

you really should report it to your superiors.

I'm part of my parents' protection detail.

I'll be watching you.

Now, you send her a message.

You tell her that her work for you is complete

and you say goodbye.

She has given you 30 years.

Let her go.

Or I'll be seeing you again.

DOOR OPENS

DOOR CLOSES

You feeling too British for a hug?

Too American for a handshake?

My goodness, diplomacy in action.

You look well, Jim.

Well, younger wife.

Gianna's 39.

I see her talking to guys her age...

Next thing you know,

I'm on something called an elliptical trainer.

Now, I know it's early,

but I am damned if I'm going to toast our reunion with pub coffee.

Single malt?

With water, as a concession to the youth of the hour.

I've missed that shit.

And a vodka tonic on the tab.

So I was surprised to hear you were in London.

Has the interrogation begun already?

Not at all. I'm just feeling slighted that you didn't look me up.

Ah, we're still buddies, hell.

Shall we?

Langley just doesn't want our hands in each other's pockets any more.

The Middle East is turning itself inside out.

My bosses think you guys are too close to the action.

That's ridiculous.

Yeah, maybe. But Tripoli to London's only a three hour flight.

So what brings you to London?

I'm keeping an eye on your deal with the Russians. What do you think?

How did you find out about that?

I'll pass on that one, Mr Quizmaster.

Yeah, I don't know how much you know about this, Harry.

But if this thing goes through,

you guys are going to be more of a poodle to Moscow than you ever were to us.

So what's it to Uncle Sam? I thought he wanted out of this relationship.

It doesn't mean he wants you to start seeing other people.

It'll knock the whole thing off-balance.

-Have the President call the Prime Minister.

-He will, when the time's right.

Right now, we're hoping your government's going

to come to its senses on its own. We don't want to...

play the bully-boys.

Well, not this time, anyway.

Now, why don't you stop flirting,

introduce me to the monkey you've got on your back.

Elena Gavrik.

Now that is a blast from the past.

That's what I'm keen to ascertain.

Excuse me?

Have you had recent contact with her?

We burnt her file in '84.

You were none too pleased.

I don't recall there being much of a consultation process,

but I wouldn't go back on it.

And, hey, it was you that had the "connection" to her.

HE CHUCKLES

I have to go.

Harry...

I really do still think of us as friends, you know.

I know.

You shaved two years off your wife's age.

Gianna is 41.

You still trying to impress me, James?

Harry. I've reformed data from the remains of the laptop.

It's Ilya Gavrik, his itineraries, likely protection measures,

blood type, distinguishing features.

All the information you need for an assassination. This is a kill order.

Our target took out Witt, now he's coming for Gavrik.

This was on the drive too.

Architectural blueprint. Pull it out.

I've just seen this.

I've just been reviewing the security schematic.

It's Bannon Hall, the venue for the Russian reception.

They're going to move on Gavrik tonight.

Inform the FSB that this will be a joint security op.

Don't let them give you any jurisdictional bollocks.

This should be interesting.

There's a lot of people who'd want Gavrik dead.

But I still don't see where Max Witt fits in.

I think I do.

You're still running Elena?!

Harry, if Gavrik finds out that his wife is still spying for us...

I'm not running Elena.

I didn't write that.

Someone posing as me contacted Elena via Max.

That means they know all your codes.

That's all your MI5 communique protocols.

It's a breach at the highest level.

How did you get this?

Sasha Gavrik. Elena's son,

he's an FSB officer.

He was waiting for me at home last night.

Put a gun in my face.

He found that message and believes what it suggests -

that I'm still running her.

He's demanded I break off all contact immediately,

Which I'm powerless to do.

So someone wants information from Elena

to get to her husband.

Max Witt realises it isn't the real Harry Pearce, tries to contact you

and he gets killed for his trouble.

I have to talk to Elena.

See what other intel she's passed on to my impersonator.

That's risky.

If she's exposed, the partnership falls through.

What choice do we have?

Look, I have to go tonight as a guest.

It'll be a chance to talk to Elena.

I have a plus one, will you help?

-Sure.

-I'm sorry, I realise it's hardly the perfect night out but...

Well, we've had worse.

-Shall I brief the team?

-No.

They need to focus on protecting Gavrik.

This is my problem for now.

Very glamorous.

Yes.

We'll fit in perfectly.

'Report.'

Perimeter secure. Got you all on GPS.

-Calum.

-'The Russians are vetting the staff.'

On site scans are clear.

No trace of explosives or weapons coming in.

Every guest and staff member cleared on a database.

'Can you believe there's no-one here by the name of Assassin?'

Alpha teams, Delta One and Two have arrived.

Momma Bear and Poppa Bear.

-OK?

-I'm fine.

Ilya.

Harry Pearce.

I thought we'd grow old and die without ever meeting.

Thought or hoped?

Elena, I've been unfaithful to you.

I thought about this man every day, every night, for many years.

Am I supposed to know what my husband is talking about?

Forgive me, I'm Harry Pearce.

And this was all a very long time ago.

Should I introduce myself?

Oh, sorry. Rachel Wallace, this is Ilya and Elena Gavrik.

-Rachel.

-Lovely to meet you, Rachel.

These two are making eyes at each other.

You and I should get a drink, leave them to their nostalgia.

You see the door in the corner of the room?

You need to go through it at, um,

exactly two minutes past eight by the main wall clock.

Fresh peaches. That is the difference.

To your health.

It's been at least six months since someone wanted to kill me.

I was beginning to feel under appreciated.

-It's not too late to cancel.

-Oh, no. I won't be intimidated.

I never have been, I never will be.

I hear you've had problems recently, Harry.

I hope they're behind you.

Standing here talking to you, I don't feel as if anything is behind me.

But you've done rather better, Ilya.

-Couple of hundred million, wasn't it?

-Oh, I was lucky.

Like so many former KGB men.

Strange how the guardians of the Soviet state

were the first to loot its corpse.

Friends shouldn't judge each other.

And it looks like we are to be close friends.

-Well, will you excuse me?

-Yes, of course.

Delta One, everything all right?

I admire your attention to detail, but I refuse to put my hand up

every time I want to leave the room. Concentrate on Minister Gavrik.

Miss Evershed.

Ah, actually it's Miss Wallace tonight, Home Secretary.

-Oh, balls, have I ruined everything?

-No, not at all.

Just...speak normally, please.

Right. Yes, of course.

I just wanted to say, that report our mutual friend prepared on you.

It's an impressive read.

It strikes me that you've been somewhat under-promoted.

I've never really thought about it.

-Home Secretary?

-(Yes.)

Once more unto the breach.

Do think about it.

Sir, this area is off-limits to guests.

Sorry, I'm looking for the bathroom.

It's this way.

SHE YELLS OUT

RADIO PICKS UP THE STRUGGLE

All units, check in.

HE GRUNTS

That could be something.

Everything's something tonight. Go.

Easy there, Vlad.

-No running in the corridors.

-One of our units isn't responding.

Oh, my God!

I am so sorry. Oh...

Sorry.

We have to meet.

On Friday. At the opera house, for day rehearsals.

I can be there alone.

Don't try to contact me through the old method, it's too dangerous.

Call this number using a clean phone.

Don't say anything.

Wait for ten seconds if the meeting's on, then hang up.

Am I in danger?

Yes.

I'm with the FSB team leader.

There's a non-responsive unit down here.

No exterior breaches. Must be someone already on the inside.

I'm running guest and staff logs against CCTV.

All units, missing staff member.

He's a wine waiter.

They're everywhere.

Pull all staff off the floor. Now.

Success?

Shall we?

There you are. Let us have a drink together.

Now, who has a good toast?

To old enemies.

New friends.

Nadia?

Code Six! Get the Minister and his wife out of here now!

Russian officer down. Attack in progress.

He's not a waiter anymore. Repeat,

'the assassin's changed clothes.'

All units, stop moving.

I repeat, stand still.

Harry, behind Gavrik, right shoulder!

SCREAMING

Drop the weapon!

GUNSHOT

SCREAMING AND PANIC

Go! Go, go!

Are you all right?

I'm fine.

He's in the east wing service corridor.

Stop!

GUNSHOTS

Target down.

It's me.

Collison's dead.

No, no trail.

Yes.

Otherwise, a complete success.

Marcus Collison. Ex-services,

British-born mercenary of the most expensive kind.

Whoever wanted Gavrik killed outsourced it.

The phone we found on him had five recent calls from Chechnya.

So, in terms of exactly who ordered the hit,

it's a case of "pick a warlord".

Well done, everyone, tonight. Thank you.

Calum, Six need a full debrief before they can act in Chechnya.

-Make sure they get everything we have on this.

-Already done.

Got to give it to him. He's good.

Yeah.

I sort of hate him for it.

Why do we do it?

-Hmm?

-This job?

You first.

I actually enjoy it. But there's probably something wrong with me.

Probably?

Let me guess what your evening has in store.

You're going to go home to your spotless, minimalist flat.

Steamed fish, then brush up on your Ukrainian economic history,

a quick thousand abdominal crunches,

and then your usual, what, three hours sleep?

I guess I must be pretty easy to read.

-Mummy!

-Hey!

Hey, have you been a good girl for Granny?

-Yes.

-Do you promise?

-Yes.

Come here, you.

I love you, Mummy.

Oh, God, I love you, too.

They say the past is a foreign country.

One that's difficult to leave, it would seem.

I've been wondering how a contract killer,

or his, er, Chechen warlord employer,

would go about obtaining the top-level intel

that they would need to pose as you.

What aren't you telling me, Harry?

Elena wasn't just an asset.

We were lovers.

You burnt her because of your relationship?

-Sounds simple when you put it like that.

-Nothing about this is simple, Harry.

But we can unpick it. Together.

But the first thing we have to do is deal with Sasha Gavrik, put him out of action.

We can't.

Why not?

Because he's my son.

Did I fail to make it clear how vital this partnership is?

You're compromised with the Gavriks.

-I have not been running Elena.

-Bullshit.

-We've lost a computer.

-It's a direct attack on MI5.

Whoever has the laptop claims

they'll decrypt the files, then release them.

One of the assets is spying on the Russians.

If they're exposed, their lives will be at risk.

-I want you to look into Jim Coaver.

-Investigate a CIA director?

-I need to speak to Harry Pearce.

-What are you going to do?

What I must. It's just you and me, Harry.

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