The Spy Who Came in from the Cold Page #3

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What am I to think about?

You're to think about the evidence

we've cooked up to incriminate Mundt.

To incriminate him so lethally...

that his own second-in-command...

will arrest him and have him shot.

Yes, we've been cooking

for a long time, Alec...

with a great many ingredients

and a great many pots.

Remember those two trips

you made for us from Berlin...

to, uh, Copenhagen and Helsinki?

Operation Rolling Stone.

Precisely.

That was one of the ingredients.

They'll interrogate you, of course...

and, bit by bit...

you'll come across with the evidence

that'll kill Mundt.

Just feed them a stray fact here

and a stray fact there.

Let them piece the clues

and the facts together...

into the story

we want them to believe.

Yes. There's a man called Fiedler.

- Mundt's second-in-command.

- Fiedler, my dear Alec...

is the linchpin of our plan.

Fiedler's the only man who's a match

for Mundt, and, uh...

he hates his guts.

Fiedler's a Jew, of course,

and Mundt's quite the other thing.

Believe me, my dear Alec...

Fiedler...

is the acolyte who one day

will stab the high priest in the back.

And, uh...

Rolling Stone will provide him

with the dagger point.

Yes.

Oh, and, uh, by the way...

i-is there anything we can do

while you're away for that, uh,

uh, girlfriend of yours...

uh, Miss Perry?

You know, I mean, uh, money or anything.

Only when it's over.

Then I'll take care of it myself.

Quite.

To do anything now

would be very insecure.

Very insecure.

Well, I just don't want her

to be implicated.

- I promise not to.

- I don't want her to have a file or anything.

- I promise that too.

- I want her left out of it.

I want her forgotten.

She shall be.

And I think, until this thing is over,

you should forget her too.

Go and meet Ashe's friend.

Go and meet Carlton.

And after Carlton...

whom?

Oh, we don't know, do we?

This party's on the Link,

charitable society for the rehabilitation...

- of, uh, discharged prisoners.

Bring us a bottle of scotch

and keep the change, if any.

Now, perhaps you'll tell me

what the bloody hell's going on.

- Don't know what you mean.

- You followed me from prison...

when I was released with some

cock-and-bull story about prisoners' aid.

You bought me

an expensive meal and, uh...

gave me a fiver for services

which I didn't render.

- I was only trying,

- I know what you were trying,

and don't bloody well interrupt.

Just wait until I've finished.

Do you mind?

You're used to waiting, aren't you?

On street corners.

Look here, Leamas. Ever since I tried to

help you, you've done nothing but insult me.

Drop it.

I only want to make it crystal clear

that although I'm prepared...

to accept insults from him in private,

I, I'm not prepared to be insulted...

in front of somebody

I admire and respect and,

Get out.

Get out.

Okay, Dick.

If that's what you want.

Now perhaps you'll tell me

why you had that, uh, queer pick me up.

By all means.

I told him to.

Why?

As a fellow member of the Link,

I'm interested in you.

I want to make you a proposition.

A journalistic proposition.

Journalistic. I see.

I run an agency,

an international feature service.

It pays well.

Very well for interesting material.

- Who publishes the material?

- Oh, international clients.

I have a correspondent in Paris

who disposes of a good deal of the stuff.

Often I don't even know

who does publish, I confess.

I don't awfully care.

They pay promptly.

And they're happy to pay into

Swiss or Scandinavian banks...

for instance, where nobody seems to

bother very much about things like tax.

They'd even make the check payable

to your pen name, if you had one.

Hmm.

They'd have to pay a hell of a lot.

They're offering a down payment

of 15,000.

The money's already lodged

in the Banque Cantonale de Berne.

On the production of suitable identification,

with which my clients will provide you...

you can draw the money.

And my clients will assist you with any...

resettlement problems that may arise.

- How soon would you want an answer?

- Now.

Of course, you're not expected to commit

all your reminiscences to paper.

You'll meet my client, and he'll arrange

to have the material ghostwritten.

Where would I meet him?

We fly to the Hague

tomorrow morning at 9:45.

I'll drive you anywhere

you have to go to pack.

No, you won't.

Leamas, at this stage,

I can't afford to turn you loose on London.

- I'm afraid you'll have to.

- Why?

Oh, well, I, uh,

I don't want the girl implicated.

Do you have to see her?

Well, she, she has my suitcase.

We'd prefer to pick it up ourselves.

You can prefer what you like.

I didn't ask you how many lumps

because I remembered.

I didn't ask why you came

40 minutes late,

my goulash had turned solid,

because you came.

There's only one thing

I really want to know, Alec.

What?

Whatever happened to your pajamas?

Oh.

They should be in Gravesend by now.

I threw them into the Thames.

Have you come into money?

Well, buying a whole bottle of whisky

instead of your usual half and,

well, flinging your pajamas in the river.

I have another pair in my suitcase.

Chocolate brown with, uh, white piping.

- Like a cake.

- Mmm.

And not tasting of prison.

No.

Was it, Was it awful?

No. No.

Just ridiculous.

Why do they have to have,

uh, disinfectant...

that smells even worse than the stuff

they're supposed to disinfect?

And, uh, why do they give you back

your personal belongings...

as if they'd been sanctified

by the archbishop of Canterbury?

With this ring, I do thee wed.

With this brown paper parcel...

I, uh, return thee to society.

They returned you to me.

I'm very grateful.

So grateful I cut tonight's

Party meeting.

Oh. Oh. Well, thank you

for putting me above history.

- Whisky or Dao?

- Dao.

I have to go away early,

tomorrow morning.

I could tell.

I'll be back.

Ah.

Thank you.

How long are you staying in Holland,

Mr. Thwaite?

About two weeks,

until the conference finishes.

You know your passport lapses in 18 days?

I'll be back.

Ah.

- Bitte.

- Thank you.

Welcome, Leamas.

You had a good voyage?

- It was all right.

- Thank you, Carlton. You can take the car.

- How about you?

- Just coffee.

Is it always just coffee?

What are you anyway?

Who are you?

What's your name?

I'm a professional man.

All right.

They've sent a professional. Fine.

So we can cut out

the tricks and games.

We both know our job.

You've got a paid defector on your hands.

That's me.

Date of birth?

August the 25th, 1924.

In Sawley, Derbyshire.

Sawley, Derbyshire.

Parents?

Ronald Arthur, born 1901.

Kathleen Olive,

maiden name Cantley...

born in Ireland, 1905.

You're unmarried?

Yes.

What was the date and method

of your recruitment?

1943, September the 14th.

The War Office advertised for linguists.

I applied.

First appointment.

Yes.

Banking section.

That's where I began.

That's where I ended.

Bastards.

So you came back from Berlin,

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