George, old boy. What an amazing thing.
- Trust you popping up out of nowhere. - How are you, Jerry?
George, this is terrific. What are you doing? How's the demon wife? How's everything?
First things first, what'll you have?
Fancy a bottle of bubbles? Shall we?
- A brandy and ginger ale is fine. - Sure? Alright.
Linda, give us a double brandy and ginger ale and another bucket of gin, will you?
- I think I'll marry her. - How many would that be?
I'm a divorce addict, hopeless case.
Not lucky like you, George, but there's only one Ann.
I'll do a deal, an offer you can't refuse.
I'll shack up with Ann, be the envy of London, and you can have my job on the comic.
You've the turn of phrase for the women's ping-pong.
"Inscrutable Chinese Wizardess". Do you fancy it?
Is that the task for today?
Much bigger stuff, old boy. Footer, the opiate of the people.
Heap big transfer...
Scottish Thunderboots to rescue of ex-champs now on the slide.
- Thanks, Linda, my love. - Will I write it down, Mr Westerby?
Ah, please, Linda.
- Cheers, George. - Cheers.
This isn't entirely a chance meeting.
I got the letter you wrote me, last football season. I burnt it straight away.
Right, thanks. Stupid of me, talking out of school...sorry.
No, you did what you felt was right at the time and so did I.
Haven't seen many of the boys and girls lately, actually.
Guess they've put both of us on the shelf. With me I can hardly blame them.
Firewater not good for braves. They think I'll blab, crack up.
I'm sure they don't.
I expect they're resting you up. They do that, you know?
In case you've wondered, I didn't tell anyone about your letter.
I was out of favor...out of work.
Writing to me wasn't what put them off, if that's what you thought.
In your letter you said you were a bit worried about Toby Esterhase.
Felt you ought to get something off your chest.
I got all xenophobe and suspicious.
Thought Toby had gone a bit haywire, in fact.
- I should talk. - Tell me now.
You'd just come back from Czechoslovakia, hadn't you?
Last job I did for Tobe. Looks like the last I'll ever do.
- Letterbox job? - Yes, nothing to it, really.
Telephone kiosk, ledge at the top, dump a package ready for collection.
That was Budapest. The Czechoslovak thing, I ran into by accident.
Had to go on to Prague, for the comic. Nothing to do with Tobe.
- Linda, sweetheart. - Again, Mr Westerby?
Please, my beauty. Oh, no, no, no.
Got time to eat? We'll go Dutch on that, shall we?
I was in this bar in Prague, always use it. Locals go there, all sorts.
Well, I got in with this crowd round a corner table,
a bloke playing a squeeze box, we're all hugger-mugger to the music...
Ah, thank you, Linda, my love.
And there's this kid with a pudding bowl haircut. Army...obvious.
He's on leave, well in his cups, and knows I'm English.
Suddenly he says, do I want to know the truth about the British spy
shot by the Russian secret police?
Just like that. Yells it right in my ear.
I play dumb, and he goes right on with it.
You know, the Jim Prideaux shambles.
He was belly-aching about being a foot soldier of the line.
Seems on the two nights in question, they were being chased till dizzy.
Make camp, break camp, move up, move back...fix bayonets!
But the big point was the Russian contingent.
Full warpaint...tanks, motor-bikes, tracker dogs
and a big car load of very sinister civilians.
Dirty work afoot in the forest, up near the Austrian border.
So, my little friend, being a sassy little devil,
decides to ask his sergeant what's it all about.
"Sarge," he says, "What's going on? We being invaded, Sarge?"
"No, son," says the sergeant. "The Russians are after a British spy"
"who tried to kidnap a general."
- "Are" after...or "were" after? - Exactly.
That's what the kid wanted to tell me. The Russians moved in on the Friday.
It was the day after when they got Jim.
As he said, they were ready and waiting for him. Knew the lot, in advance.
Heap bad story. Bad for our big chief. Bad for tribe.
So, as soon as I got back, I went and told all to Tobe.
How did he take it?
To begin with it was "Thanks a million, Jerry, old boy."
He'd go and pow-wow with the top brass.
Then the next morning...
You're so plastered these days, you can't tell fact from fiction!
You're an embarrassment!
You go on a bender, drink yourself into cloud cuckoo land,
then come staggering back here with a load of tripe like this!
You're pathetic!
- Look, old boy... - I don't want any excuses.
- I had to report what I heard. - You believed every stupid word!
Swallowed it like mother's milk!
A load of half-baked rumors, you come spreading them round here,
what you can remember, through your alcoholic haze!
- I didn't forget a thing. - Well, you will now!
You'll forget the lot!
Don't you see? The boy was a plant... provocateur, in layman's language.
He was doing a job for Moscow Center. Object...disruption.
Make the Circus chase our own tails. And you fell for it, Jerry. That's all.
OK, Tobe, you know best.
If you don't want the story, that's your business. I'll do it for the paper.
You'll what?
Not about the Russians getting there first, but the rest, it's all good stuff.
Story wasn't covered well at the time, just the official statement.
If old Jerry gets a splash about the day the Czechs mobilized for WWIII...
except it was one lone Englishman surrounding them...that's a good piece.
The comic might even run an ad on the telly.
The day after that I was called for by the editor.
THE editor, not the sports bloke.
He tells me some clown has been on the phone with a formal warning.
"Keep that baboon Westerby off the Czecho spy story."
"Any further reference against the national interest."
"End of message."
So, I didn't get the Reporter of the Year award.
Can't, can you, when your story's on the spike? Cheers.
You didn't spike it entirely. I mean, you wrote to me.
Dropped the letter in by hand.
Must have been the same day you talked to Toby Esterhase.
Well, as I said at the time, it just felt odd.
My mistake, old boy.
When I heard you got the heave-ho, I felt an even bigger damn fool.
I thought it was you who phoned the editor.
It wasn't.
'Course not. Sorry.
Nothing untoward going on?
Tribe hasn't gone on the rampage?
But are you hunting alone?
I'm not the brightest, but when you start asking questions, there's got to be something.
All I'm saying is, any time, old boy.
Thank you, Jerry.
- Rum chap, Toby Esterhase. - But good.
God, first rate, brilliant, but rum.
You won't forget to give my love to Ann?
One of the great marriages, always said so.
Come on, Jerry, out with it. Did Toby say something about Ann?
Some story he'd got. I told him to stuff it up his silk drawers.
- I suppose I should have been prepared. - Take on a temporary, you can't expect loyalty.
Well done, that boy!
We're going to lose this match. So much for Prideaux's coaching.
I'm absolutely furious with that man. It's monstrous to clear off.
Did he say what's wrong with his mother?
No, he did not. She is supposed to be dying.
That's one excuse for absence he can hardly use again.
Not at all, Mother. One false alarm can easily lead to another.
I'll ask for a full medical diagnosis next time.
Those front row forwards of theirs look over-age to me.
Did he ever tell you how he got that awful shoulder?
- Fell off a bus with a bottle of vodka... - What?
Fell off a bus with a bottle of vodka inside him, I shouldn't wonder.
I suppose I shall have to take his French.
Oh, come on, Thursgood, keep up!
He's gone in the Alvis. He'd never trust any other form of transport.
If he'd gone for good, he wouldn't leave the caravan behind, would he?
Stands to reason, that!
Besides, he'd have said "Goodbye" properly, Rhino would.
Wouldn't just go, not Rhino. Not like a juju man.
I've come about the furs.
- Hello, Toby. - Peter.
It's not exactly five-star. But then we are shopping a bit downmarket.
Safe houses I have known!
Take the weight off your feet, won't be long.
So, we're expecting a Pole, are we, Peter?
In the fur trade. You think I might take him on as a courier?
I'd like him on my own payroll, for preference. Looks useful.
But what's the point? My lads are under-employed as it is.
Very generous of you, Peter.
Stay put, Toby.
Sorry about this, Toby.
Against the wall, Tobe.
Did he come alone or is there a little friend waiting in the square?
Looks all clear to me, sir.
Go back to the other room and don't take your eyes off the street.
- Seen something? - Turn the light out a moment.
Just a shadow, I suppose.
Yes, I think so.
I want to put a thesis to you, Toby, about what's been going on.
Let's cast our minds back, say about 18 months, when Control is still with us.
Percy Alleline wants his job, everyone knows that.
Though Control is sick and past his prime, Percy can't dislodge him.
It's a time of uneasiness in the Circus. Morale is low, activity is low. Yes?
I remember, George.
Well, Percy's door opens one day and one of our senior men walks in.
We'll call him Gerald. It's just a name.
Gerald says, "Percy, I've stumbled on a major source of Russian intelligence."
"It could be a gold mine."
Perhaps they take a walk or a drive. Whatever, Percy listens,
because what Gerald goes on to say is music in Percy's ears.
"Some of us," Gerald tells him,
"are worried sick about the state the Circus is in."
"Look at our operational losses, agents, networks."
He's careful not to suggest there's a traitor inside the Circus,
but emphasizes that slovenliness at the top is leading to failure all round.
That is to say, it's all Control's fault.
My thesis, you understand.
- Sure, George. - Another notion
is that Percy Alleline was his own Gerald.
He bought himself a top Russian spy and then manned his own boat.
I don't believe that. I think he'd mess it up, don't you?
Sure, George.
So the next thing is for Gerald to say to Percy,
"I and a little group of like-minded friends"
"want you to be our father-figure, Percy."
"We're not political men, we don't know our way in the Whitehall jungle."
"But you do." Did you bring a baby-sitter, Toby?
Why should I? I came to meet Peter and some Pole in the fur trade.
Do you want Fawn to go down and have a look?
No, need him here. Can't take the chance.
Yes, well, Gerald says that if Percy will handle the committees,
he and his friends will handle Merlin.
Merlin being the Moscow intelligence source
and Witchcraft the name of the material he supplies. How well it all worked.
Merlin's material proved excellent, as everyone agreed, except Control.
Eventually Control was out and Percy was king.
- So what's new, George? - Ever bought a fake picture, Toby?
I sold a couple once.
The more you pay, the less inclined you are to doubt its authenticity.
Merlin's price was 20,000 francs a month into a Swiss bank,
according to the file.
Yes, Toby, this is official.
There came the day when Gerald admitted Percy to the greatest secret of all:
That the Merlin set-up has a London end.
Aleksey Aleksandrovich Polyakov,
You're on record as grading him snow-white, Toby.
Quite untainted with the mischief of espionage.
In fact, he's Merlin's London representative.
That's the start, I should tell you now, of a very clever knot.
Everything to do with Witchcraft is secret, of course,
but a lot of people are involved...
transcribers, translators, codists, evaluators, God knows what.
It doesn't worry Gerald, of course.
He likes it because the art of being Gerald is to be one of a crowd.
When it comes to Polyakov, that's a different story.
Who knows it? Only you, Roy Bland, Bill Haydon and Percy.
Three of you and Alleline. You're the magic circle.
Who meets him, Toby?
For God's sake, let me sweat the bastard.
You all meet him. How's that?
Percy represents the authoritarian side.
Asks after his wife, suggests it's time he took a holiday.
Very paternal, Percy would be.
Bill Haydon, I think, would see Polyakov much more often.
Bill's a Russian expert and good entertainment value.
Bill would shine when it comes to the briefings and follow-up sessions,
making sure the right messages went back to Moscow.
Roy Bland's good on economics and is top man on the satellite countries,
so he'd have plenty to chat about.
Then there's you, Toby.
You'd have solo sessions with Polyakov as there's tradecraft to discuss
and all those little snippets about goings-on inside the Embassy,
which are pretty much your field.
If the magic circle wanted him to do some photography inside the Embassy,
it would be you who would supply the film.
Replenish his stock from time to time.
Take him little sealed packets.
Toby, you wouldn't be lying? Did you bring a baby-sitter?
- Cross my heart. - What would you use for a job like this?
- Cars? - No. On foot.
- Keep walking them through. - How many?
- Eight. Ten, maybe. - What about one man, alone?
- One? Never. Impossible. - I can call Mendel to take a look.
I'm sure Toby's right.
Listen, George, I know Polyakov works for Moscow Center.
Of course I do. We all know. But come on.
Think how many other operations we've run this way.
We've bought Polyakov, right. He's a Moscow hood but he's also our joe.
He's got to pretend to his own people that he's spying on us.
So we've got to give him one or two goodies now and then.
Sure, I've passed him the odd sealed packet...chickenfeed.
He can send them home, Moscow Center clap him on the back, say he's a big man.
It happens all the time. Come on, George, you know the game.
Are you Polyakov's agent inside the Circus?
Someone has to be.
If his cover for meeting you people is that he's spying on the Circus,
then he must have a man on the inside.
Polyakov can't report back to Moscow Center
after he's picked up a great load of Circus chickenfeed
and say, "I got this from the boys."
He's got to have a whole history. How he selected his man,
courted him, bought him, how they meet and where.
The whole paraphernalia of running a double agent.
And all this in Moscow Center's archives.
You, Toby?
Toby Esterhase masquerades as a Circus traitor to keep Polyakov in business.
My hat, Toby. A dangerous job like that deserves a whole chestful of medals.
You're on a damn long road. What happens to you if you never reach the other end?
With Lacon and the Minister behind me?
Why pick on the little guy? Why not go for the big ones...
Percy Alleline, Bill Haydon?
- Thought you were a big guy these days. - You're the perfect choice, Toby.
Resentful about slow promotion, sharp-witted, fond of money...
With you as his agent, he has a cover story that really works.
The big three give you the little sealed packets of chickenfeed
and Moscow Center thinks you're all theirs.
The problem arises when it turns out you've been handing Polyakov the crown jewels
and getting Russian chickenfeed in return.
If that's the case, Toby, you're going to need good friends, like us.
Gerald of course, is a Russian mole.
- And he's pulled the Circus inside out. - But Witchcraft material isn't chickenfeed.
- It's the best. - It was good at first.
George, suppose you're wrong?
- Toby...I - Who told you to muzzle Jerry Westerby?
and the instruction, "Get lost"?
- Speak up. - Was it Percy?
I think so. Maybe it was Bill, though.
Listen, it was a big operation. Sometimes Roy...
It never seemed to come straight from one. There was a committee.
I took a lot of orders.
You told Prideaux to forget about Tinker, Tailor. Where did that come from?
I never knew what that meant. Now, George, that's the truth.
Poor Toby...yes, I do see.
What a dog's life you must have been leading, running between them all.
George, if there's anything I can do, of a practical nature.
You know me, George. My boys are pretty well trained.
If you want to borrow them... I'd have to speak to Lacon, of course,
but...you'd expect that.
All I want is for this thing to be cleared up. For the good of the Circus.
I want nothing for myself.
Where's this safe house you keep exclusively for meeting Polyakov?
5 Lock Gardens, Camden Town.
You'll be staying here for a night or two. Fawn will look after you.
Fawn!
You'll have to make appropriate explanations to the Circus, by telephone.
You're having girl trouble or whatever sort of trouble you're in these days.
Then there's your wife, of course.
Sure, George, I can handle that.
If he's any bother, Fawn, use your own discretion.
Peter, I want you to watch my back. Will you do that?
- Look for one man. But look! - We'll join up in Sussex Gardens.
Same as you, George. Just a feeling... someone, but couldn't say for certain.
I covered you both to the front door. If you did have company, he's cleverer than me.
But it's been known.
Do you have anyone in particular in mind? Will I go to pavement level and take a sniff?
- Well, proceed? - Yes.
Right. Now, the Minister has one major worry. In his own words,
"How much porcelain gets broken at the end of the day?"
Scandal, he's talking about. If we unmask the mole,
will the Russians cut their losses by telling the world's press
- how they made fools of us? - I think not.
Make your enemy look stupid, you lose the justification for taking him on.
- I've told him that, George. - So isn't his mind at rest?
He hopes there'll be nothing messy. Nothing that could provoke Moscow.
- But proceed? - Heavens, yes.
Clean the stables. Problem, flush out the mole.
Method?
We need to alarm him, just sufficiently
to make him call for a crash meeting with Polyakov at the safe house.
A meeting Gerald the mole needs all to himself,
secret from the rest of the Witchcraft magic circle.
There are two of them and Alleline.
- You've definitely cleared Esterhase? - Oh, yes.
- Thank you. - Karla really did bring off the perfect fix...
For a while. It would be beautiful in another context.
Tinker...Alleline. Tailor...Haydon. Soldier...Bland.
- Spot the mole. - Quite. Ways and means, George?
Ricki Tarr will go to Paris.
He'll make use of the appropriate Embassy facilities
to send a signal to the Head of London Station.
"Something, something, something," which we'll now concoct.
The message will be, "Have information vital to the safeguarding of the service."
"Request immediate meeting. Personal."
Remember, "Vital to the safeguarding of the service."
- It's even true. - Don't forget that.
No mistakes, Ricki. Your head's on the block.
Not the only one, Peter.
Lord, now lettest thou thy servant
Depart in peace
According to
Thy word
For mine eyes have seen
Thy salvation
Which thou hast prepared before the face
Of all people
To be a light
To lighten
The gentiles
And to be the glory
Of thy people
Israel
Glory be to the Father
And to the Son
And to the Holy Ghost
As it was in the beginning
Is now and ever shall be
World without end
Amen