10x01 - Garden Leave

[bunniefuu]

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 k*ll you.

It's my turn.

If you're going to sh**t me,
sh**t me now.

sh**t 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 t*rrorists,

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 k*lled 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 w*r cut-out.

MI6 officer.

Codenamed Sharecropper.

m*rder*d 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 w*r 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 k*lled.

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 ba*ls 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 k*ll 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 w*r, Harry.

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

Gavrik is their lead negotiator.

That man has personally ex*cuted
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 k*ll 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
k*lling 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 sh*t.

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 k*ll 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 g*n 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 k*lled 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 expl*sives 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 k*ll 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, ba*ls, 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!

g*nsh*t

SCREAMING AND PANIC

Go! Go, go!

Are you all right?

I'm fine.

He's in the east wing
service corridor.

Stop!

g*nshots

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 k*lled
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 k*ller,

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.