Enigma Page #6

That makes sense,|making one hole out of another.

- How deep is it?|- Sixty, seventy foot in the middle.

Christ, we'll need a submarine.

I would very much like|to arrest you...

but we don't have a body.

It's a quarter to 8:00.|Mr Leveret will take you back.

I believe your day|is just beginning.

Chaps.

Easy, everyone.|Just stopped by to wish you luck.

I'm sure you're all aware,|as I am, what's at stake here.

I don't think I'm exaggerating|when I say...

this could be one of|the decisive nights of the war.

- So shut up, then.|- A mighty battle.

Probably...

the greatest convoy battle|of all time is about to start.

Three hours ago,|convoys HX 229A...

had entered the presumed|operational area...

of the U-boat packs.

Now, in our long island history...

we have picked up the gauntlet|more than a few times.

Shakespeare coming up.

''Out of this nettle, danger,|may we pluck this flower, safety.''

So, gentlemen, go to it.

Come and dance.|Boop-boop

Come on. Come and dance.

- No, I can't.|- Yes, you can. It's easy.

- No, really, you do it.|- Right, left.

Left, left.

Ah! You're getting the hang of it.

C-Can someone remind me?

A-Are w-we hoping for the U-boats|to fiind the convoys, o-o-or not?

- Not.|- I am.

- Yes, well, you would, Baxter.|- Y-You'd sacrifiice o-o-our--

Sacrifiice a convoy|to get back into Shark? Of course.

How many men has Stalin had|to sacrifiice so far? Five million?

It's called the greater good.

Spoken, of course,|by someone who doesn't happen to be|in the North Atlantic at the moment.

You can only fiight your own war.|What do you think, Tom?

About what?

So, Claire,|what were you doing?

What were you hiding?

Right.

Start at the beginning.

Kestrel settings, March.

Atlantic time|is two hours behind.

It's still dark.

Here, mate,|I got a lighter.

Thanks.

''Urgent.''

Mary Jane Hawkins.

It is German.

Signal 7-3-6-9-K-C-S.

We're in business.

Direction fiinders have a fiix.

Scarborough, 2-5-9 degrees.

Witt, 2-4-6, 30 degrees.

Flowerdown, 2-6-8 degrees.

There she is--|37.5, 49.5.

She's shadowing convoy HX 229.

No air cover. Sitting ducks.

Grid square?

B-D-149 1 .

- Convoy course?|- Seventy degrees.

- Convoy speed.|- Ten knots.

- From the code book,|we have C-K-S-A for convoy sighted.|- First message?

K-A-F-B-N-W-Zed-Jacob|for position.

QK-D-X for course, QR-Zed-A for speed.|That's fiive four-letter groups.

Message setting, B-H-B.

''A-V, V-K, A-K.''

Check.

Yeah, me too.

- ''M-S, S-M.''|- Check.

Two loops. Confiirmed?

And no clashes.

One down.

Now the wolves|will be gathering.

Still nonsense. Why?

Can you fiix B-D-1611?|Convoy speed and direction same.

New position:
|K-A-F-V, N-C-L-A.

Skynner's offered a bottle of Scotch|to the fiirst man to come up with a menu.

- Does he know I'm still here?|- He didn't ask.

Oh, Puck, there's a message|left for you at the switchboard.

It's Adelphi 4-2-4-3.

There's no name,|and I'm not your social secretary.

- Message key:
R-M-U.|- Sorry, Guy.

How much more material|do you need?

We've got 9 signals.|Another 20, 25 would be better.

Suppose it starts|before you have them.

Naval grid square B-D-1386.

Course:
70 degrees.|Speed of convoy: 10 knots.

I'm pretty sure there's enough|for a stab at a menu. Let's try it.

- You have 17 contacts, Mr Jericho.|- It's not enough.

Well, why the hell not?

When I'm done, we'll be looking|for a needle in a haystack...

but if we stop now it'll be|a hundred thousand haystacks.

You know that.

Full moon.|Ten U-boats, somewhere.

Thirty-seven merchants,|fiive escorts, one of which has|lost contact with the convoy.

No rescue ship|and no air cover.

Eighteen.

- Flowerdown, 2-6-8 degrees.|- It's what you might call a b*tch.

- Twenty-three.|- Not enough.

- What have you got?|- I need one more link.

I can't see it.

Names. They're names.

- You?|- No.

Getting a very bad feeling now.

Polish names.

- There.|- Yes.

- Menu.|- Let's hope to God it works.

It's started. Bastards.

Don't you have homes to go to?

- How's it going?|- Four hits so far.

Probably 300 men lost.

A Dutch cargo and a Norwegian freighter|went straight to the bottom.

And an American liberty ship's|on fiire.

Half the crew are drowning.|The other half are trying to save them.

Tom. Unfiinished business.

Congratulations.

It's a half bottle,|as it turns out.

Typical Skynner.

That should go back.

Where's the museum key?

Oh, sorry, Guy.|I've still got it.

Tsk, tsk.|Security around here.

Then get off home, old thing.

-Haven't you got a girl waiting for you?|-She's dead.

Tom.

Oh, my God. Come on.

- What?|- Come on.

It's Polish.

Polish names, all of them.

The Germans|found a mass grave.

Look, doesn't it say|4,000 corpses?

''Polish offiicers buried|in the forest at Katyn in 1940...

''during the Soviet occupation.

Shot in the back of the head.''

Murdered by the Russians.

By our Russian allies.

They were comrades-in-arms|against the Nazis.

My God.

That's why the fiile was empty--|on the orders of Secret Intelligence.

And that's why Beaumanor was ordered|to stop intercepting the signals.

It was too big a secret.

Just knowing that|can get you killed.

And Claire discovered it.

Copied it into the German book,|and she had to tell...

someone.

- Adam Pukowski.|- What?

Missing in action.

Kid brother of Jozef Pukowski.

Claire stole those intercepts|for Puck...

because he was looking|for his brother's name.

- Puck!|- Wait! Please!

This Puck killed her. Why?

Because he had a secret, too,|and she could've given him away.

- What secret?|- I can't tell you that!

Tom!

Hello. Could you get me|London Adelphi 4-2-4-3, please?

l'm sorry. That number|is not in service.

What the hell is this about, you and|some skirt waltzing around Beaumanor?

Leonard, unless you're asking me|to dance, let go of my arm!

I should've cooked your goose|when you made a fool of yourself|over that blonde...

who f***ed half the park.

What?

Stand away! Stand away!

What the bloody hell|do you think you're doing?

He's two carriages up.|Snug as a bug in a rug.

Morning, sir.

You knew?

About Pukowski?

We had no proof,|but when Miss Romilly went missing--

- Puck and Claire were having an--|- Were seeing each other,|as you like to put it.

Seeing each other's|brains out.

Jozef Pukowski, who'd been wondering|what could have happened...

to all those Polish offiicers|who hadn't been heard from|since the fiirst year of the war...

and Claire Romilly...

who was reading the Wermacht traffiic|from the Eastern Front.

They were made for each other.

And lo, mass graves.

Polish uniforms, names.

- We've been bracing ourselves|for the Nazi propaganda.|- Propaganda?

Four thousand Poles|murdered by Stalin?

It's what Hitler would|give his last ball for.

Think of all those Polish names|in the U.S. of A.

Think of our convoys|full of American goods...

some of them|in American ships...

running the U-boat gauntlet so our|supplies can keep Stalin in business.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes