The Spy Who Came in from the Cold Page #2

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I keep one at home.

- For medicinal purposes.

- Ah.

- Oh.

Candles were new, weren't they?

They just hadn't been used before.

Come have a coffee and whisky.

Oh.

You know, Nan,

you really shouldn't have.

You know, whisky's very,

very expensive.

- Sugar?

- Two lumps.

Your fingers will be all right.

And no milk.

Is the, uh, soda medicinal too?

- You're very observant.

- Mmm, I've had to be.

- Why?

- Well, I was a scoutmaster.

I don't believe it.

You sometimes have the look of a dedicated

man, not to that particular cause.

- Me, dedicated?

- Well,

- What do you believe in?

Well, don't laugh. Tell me.

Well, I believe that a Number 11 bus

will get me to Hammersmith.

I do not believe it will be driven

by, uh, Father Christmas.

That's not a cause.

What would you like me to believe in?

Peter Pan? Or God?

Oh, no. Of course not.

I don't believe in God either.

Oh? What do you believe in?

Me?

History.

Partly. Partly freedom. Partly,

Oh, Nan.

Don't tell me you're a,

you're a bloody Communist.

Yes.

That's me.

Fighting for peace.

Well, other people just talk.

The Party's going to do something.

What, may I ask,

will the Party do for comrade Nan?

I was once driving down

a main road in, uh,

on-on the Continent...

and I saw two great trucks...

move out and converge on a...

station wagon driving down

the middle of the road.

I only heard the crash

because I drove on.

The last I saw of the station wagon

was three small children,

two little boys and a little girl...

Laughing through,

through the back window.

I, uh,

Communism. Capitalism.

It's the innocents who get slaughtered.

Compassion is not enough.

Nobody wants that.

Well, it, i-it's got to be organized,

disciplined, to be of any use.

Well, that's what the Party

does for us. Don't you see?

- It organizes our emotions.

- Oh, Nan.

- You're too proud for that, aren't you?

- Nan,

Don't let's argue, Alec.

This evening was meant to please you.

Oh, it did.

It did.

Well...

thank you for my stew and my...

coffee and my wine

and my medicinal whisky.

Good night, Nan.

- And half a pound of Parmesan.

Anything more, Mrs. Zanfrello?

- Will be all, thank you.

- Oh. That'll be, uh, two, five, two, seven.

Seven and seven.

Cash or credit?

- Please, to credit.

- Right.

Let me have, uh,

Let me have a tin of that caviar.

Well, it's only mock, Mr. Leamas.

It's, uh, Norwegian.

I prefer it mock.

Let me have a tin of the...

California cling peaches.

- Large or small?

- Large. I've got to keep my strength up.

And, uh...

a pound of butter.

And, uh, let me have

some of this scampi.

Ah, Italian. Is very nice.

Madam, I'll thank you not to insult

the hot blood of Irish prawns...

taken from the Bay of Dublin herself.

Marcella.

- Right. That'll be 19 and nine, please, sir.

Cash or credit?

Beg your pardon, sir?

Cash or credit?

Well, you said Friday, Mr. Leamas.

Cash, please.

If a bloody Italian can have credit,

why can't a bloody Irishman?

Now, there's no need for talk like that.

- Put that phone down.

- Put that phone down!

Marcella, call the police.

- S.

I brought you some sandwiches.

You shouldn't have come, Nan.

What'll Miss Crail think, consorting

with an ex-convict during the library's time?

It's 8:
15. I'll catch the next

Number 7 and she'll never know.

- What'll you do, Alec?

- Go for a walk, have a bit of a think...

avoid the pubs,

visit the Labor Exchange...

- collect my suitcase from the caretaker,

- I've collected it.

It's at my flat

till you find somewhere decent.

- Nan, I,

- Dinner will be served at 8:00...

with a Portuguese wine spelt D-A-O...

with a twiddle over the "A"

and pronounced "dang."

- "Dang."

- I made Hungarian goulash.

Well, I thought it'd be tactful to serve

a Communist dish with a totalitarian wine.

What's in the parcel, Alec?

- Oh, my pajamas.

- Good.

8:
00. Don't be late.

Do you like birds?

The ones with the white collars are wild,

and the others are domesticated.

With people it's the other way round.

Bird-watching's one of my hobbies.

I often come here.

Do you also often come to Wormwood Scrubs

Prison at 8:
00 in the morning to watch birds?

Yes. Jailbirds.

- They're my other hobby.

- Only the young ones, surely.

That's not quite fair.

I'm a member of a charitable discharged

prisoners' aid society called the Link.

My card.

Why pick on me, Mr. Ashe?

Because the governor said

that you'd refused prisoners' aid...

and you wouldn't

even see a probation officer.

Now, that's proud and stupid.

So I followed you.

And what sort of aid does your charitable

organization dispense, Mr. Ashe?

We try and find

your professional qualifications.

Half a bottle of whisky a day,

or is that a disqualification?

Then introduce you

to other members of the Link...

who might find you a job.

Officially, we're allowed to offer you

five pounds out of society's funds...

to tide you over the first few days.

And...

unofficially,

we're allowed to offer you lunch.

- More retsina?

- I don't see why not.

I've nothing to be clearheaded for.

Oh, but you will have,

if only you'll stop being obstinate...

and let me introduce you to this

great friend of mine, Dick Carlton.

Yeah. All right. All right.

But I keep on telling you, I can't write...

except business reports.

And I keep on telling you,

you don't have to write.

His agency's always on the lookout

for German background material.

Political, economic, social.

Even tourist stuff.

He services the holiday magazines too.

Now, you, with your...

business experience of Berlin...

provide the facts, the opinions.

His chaps will do all the writing.

As a matter of fact, I'm, uh,

I'm meeting him myself this evening

at a club in Dean Street...

called the P*ssy Willow,

7:
30, for drinks.

- Care to join us?

- No, sorry. Sorry. No. I have a date.

Oh. Just drop in for a quick one.

You might do yourself a bit of good.

Anyway, I'll bring a check for five quid

from the Link to tide you over.

A check?

I'll bring cash.

P*ssy Willow.

Dean Street.

7:
30. Okay?

- Okay.

- Well, I have to go now.

Finish your wine.

Ciao, then.

Thanks, uh, for the,

We haven't met.

My name's Smiley. I live here.

So they've made contact.

A man called Ashe.

The way you beat up that grocer

was masterly, Alec.

Two small paragraphs down the page

in the West London Observer.

But it was enough.

A shark can smell blood

a mile off when he's hungry...

and, uh, Mundt

is hungry for our blood.

Name me a counterespionage head

who isn't hungry...

for one high-grade, defecting spy.

So I'm to defect.

Yes, I wanted you to build up

the portrait of a man...

whom inaction and embitterment

had driven to drink...

but not yet to actual treachery.

Don't, uh, change the portrait

by a brushstroke, Alec.

Just continue to be embittered.

Continue to drink.

Drink, but never be too drunk to think.

Smiley, give Leamas whisky and soda.

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