Otley Page #4

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to do on our mutual friend.

Meanwhile you can earn your keep.

Friday night is blackmail night.

You're back, are you?

I finished this lot ages ago.

I've been practising meditation

the last couple of hours.

Oh, yes? Do any good?

No, my mind's too clogged up

with sex and football.

Come on then.

You've got a phone call to make.

Well, do you mind?

Just one drink.

Yes, just one drink.

Rmy, and very little.

Not bad, is it?

It's handy when I'm working late

or when Clare and I

are having one of our "do's".

How is your wife?

Oh, she's still the same sweet

gin-sodden b*tch that she always was.

- Are you staying here tonight?

- Yes. Are you?

- No.

- Pity. One day.

This is Sir Alec Hadrian's secretary.

Could you please call his office

at nine-thirty tomorrow?

Never stops.

This is Gerald

Arthur Otley, alive and kicking.

Now you'd betterjot this down...

Are you still in touch

with that funny Otley?

Yes. I'm rather afraid the poor fellow

has gone off his head.

You'll be giving all this up, will you,

when you get the money?

I'll give ICS up,

but not the coach business.

We're doing very well.

D'you know, we're offering fourteen days

in the Dolomites for thirty-six guineas?

Well, I hope one day I'll

be able to take advantage of it.

Don't bank on it.

I was a commando in the war.

Commissioned in the field, I was.

Me, an officer!

Then, a few years back, the Congo.

Tshomb's Commando 5.

Then ICS?

Well, it's a thousand quid a job.

Can't be bad.

But they're a news agency.

They also run a market

for information. Classified.

Listen, from what I've seen, ICS and Hendrickson

are on opposite sides of the fence.

Now ICS killed Lambert,

but Lambert was putting the screw

on Hendrickson. I mean, you know...

That's no concern of ours, lad.

The whole world's bent.

I heard you a mile away.

Yes, but there was no need

to use the hosepipe!

You said "I'm going to teach you

unarmed combat"

and you go and use the hosepipe

right in the bloody eye!

Always expect the unexpected.

People you go creeping up on

don't go carrying hosepipes.

I'm sick of this game.

All the games are over now.

Tonight's the night.

You look very cocky about it.

Aren't you worried you'll end up

the same as Lambert?

Oh, I'll be all right.

It's you I'm worried about, son.

Oh, I see, I'll be the one

who's dropped in the...

Again.

Now, listen. Just get it off him

then wait at the bottom for me.

He's on the last tube and there's no

other exit down there, so be sensible.

Anyhow, win, lose or draw, remember I'm the

best mate you've got in this business.

- Makes me warm inside.

- Mind the step.

Last train to Ealing Broadway!

On your way.

There, that didn't hurt, did it?

Here's your bloody case.

Just a minute, son.

Now, you just take that case

down the platform a minute.

What for?

Come on.

That's far enough.

Now open it.

Now, hang on.

Do you mean this might be...

You're joking!

Come on.

- Well, what chance have I got?

- Fifty-fifty.

If you don't open it, none at all.

You're a bastard.

Good. Now the lid.

A rich bastard!

Oh, I see. It's my turn now.

Well, you had a week's grace,

didn't you?

Hell, Johnston, I wouldn't

tell anybody, honest.

I just want to get back

to me own scene.

No, no. You can see it

from my point of view.

Officer?

- What's in this, then?

- Well, it's snuff, isn't it?

Yeah, he gets migraine bad.

- Excuse me.

- Just a minute.

Yes, but...

My doctor prescribed them,

I'm suffering from nervous exhaustion.

- Look, it may interest you to know...

- A minute!

I'm Gerald Arthur Otley,

and I've had enough.

Here's your newspapers

and your toothbrush, sir.

They didn't have those French

cigarettes, but will these do?

- Oh, fine.

- Have you finished with this, sir?

Er... yes. Listen a minute, shouldn't I be

making a statement or something?

I don't know anything about that, sir.

Er... constable?

- The door.

- Oh, I'm sorry, sir.

Is there a draught?

Where were you on the

night of the fourteenth?

Ah!

Sorry to have kept you, Mr Otley.

I was just, er...

Oh, I see you've been diverting all

westbound traffic down Lexham Mews.

Yes, I knew a girl there once

who used to... who used to...

Fine...

Fine.

Good day for the match.

The match?

Chelsea. Playing at home.

Oh yes, yes.

I wish I could be there.

I don't suppose you people

get much opportunity, eh?

Look, Superintendent,

what exactly is going

to happen to me?

Yes, I'm sorry about this, but I think

the delay's been from your people.

Has it?

Excuse me.

Yes? Oh, fine.

Well, I don't think you need hang

around here much longer, Mr Otley.

- They're here.

- My people?

Your people.

Good morning.

What do you want?

What's she doing here?

- I've come to pick you up, sir.

- "I've come to pick you up, sir."

And you're going to let her?

Listen, I've had enough of your lot.

I'm wanted for questioning.

With a bit of luck

I might get fifteen years.

Could I go back to

my cell now, please?

Is everything all right, miss?

He's been under

a certain amount of strain.

Strain? Last night her boss nearly

blew me halfway to the Dolomites!

Well, I expect he had

his reasons, sir.

Listen, I like it here, they're nice people.

I had a marvellous breakfast.

- We are nice people.

- Yeah, but who's we? Who's we?

Well, put it this way: we are the cowboys,

as opposed to being the Indians.

Well, in that case

I'd hate to meet the Indians.

- You already have!

- Have I?

Well, how do you tell,

how do you judge?

- Sir! Sir!

- What?

Oh, cheers. Thank you.

As a late friend of mine once said,

the whole world's bent.

What about Hendrickson then?

What side's he on?

- That's a very good question.

- Is it? Well, I want an answer.

All right. He disappeared last night,

leaving his lovely gin-sodden wife,

two children and a Dalmatian dog.

Now, don't be a drag and get in.

Hello, Gerry,

Miles is head of MI5, isn't he?

That's what M stands for.

Will you do as you're told?

It's very complex, Gerry,

but for your peace of mind,

A, we are the Government.

Oh, well, er... at least we have

the Government's blessing.

And B, ICS are the enemy.

And, um, C, Hendrickson,

formerly with A, is now with B.

Oh, I see.

But Hendrickson used to be your boss,

before he became a peppermill.

Sorry, Rollo.

To put it simply, Gerry,

we're a red herring outfit.

We feed misleading information

to, um, oh, erm...

well, to whoever we wish to mislead.

Consequently, ICS are

very convenient middle men.

That's why we've not shut them down.

We slip them a mixture of

some fairly innocuous real stuff,

and some, erm, absolute rubbish.

At some point Hendrickson went

freelance and made a deal with them.

Then Lambert found out,

but, instead of telling us,

tried to put the screw on Hendrickson.

Who got on to ICS and said

"Solve my problem".

Ah, enter Johnston!

Then he goes freelance.

God, you're a charmless lot!

How do you trust each other?

We don't.

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