SweSub av Bull[IT]
Akelei. Akelei.
Claire?
- Move up.|- Thank you.
Roast mules go topsy-turvy.
Ten letters ending in ''T.''
- I'm hopeless at this.|- Me too.
''Somersault.''
Bletchley.
It's a walk.
I know.
I've been here before.
This bus for Yardley--
This bus for--
Hello? Yes.|I'll try that extension for you.
Please hold the line.
I'm just putting you through.
Yes, you're through.
- Mr Skynner?|- Come in.
It's been a pleasure, sir.
I never wanted you back.
Logie says he needs you.
Well...
he's got you.
Conference in half an hour.|And keep your mouth shut.
You're only there for show.
Oh, dear, oh, dear, oh, dear.|You do look bloody terrible.
- We missed you, Tom.|- I know why you want me back, Guy.
You've lost the crown jewels,|haven't you? You've lost Shark.
We got a call from one of the|intercept stations in Scarborough.
And they started picking up|a single word broadcast|on the hour, every hour...
coming out of U-boat headquarters|in Sainte-Assise.
- In Morse?|- No, it was a human voice.
- ''Akelei.''|- Meaning what?
- It's a flower.|- I know it's a bloody flower, Guy.
Aquilegia. Columbine.|But what did it mean?
It meant,|''Change the weather code.''
The Germans have switched|their U-boats to a new code book,|and we're blacked out again.
Is that why the Yanks are here?
Skynner's in a panic.
They want to take over his empire.
Here comes our team.
- You! You!|- Hello.
- You in the Royal Navy?|- Oh, I'm sorry.
- Only for a day or two.|I mean, actually on a ship.|- What was your ship?
Look, I can't be expected|to remember every little thing.
Sorry.
Welcome to Bletchley Park, sir.
Three convoys left New York|in the past week...
and are presently at sea.
Convoy SC 122.
Fifty merchant ships|carrying fuel oil, tanks...
iron ore, bauxite,|also meat, sugar and wheat.
Convoy HX 229 departed|New York on Monday.
Forty merchant vessels|carrying explosives, manganese...
timber, powdered milk.
Convoy 229-A left New York|on Tuesday...
carrying steel, timber,|powdered milk.
I don't want a shopping list.|What's the total?
One hundred and forty-one|merchant ships, gross tonnage|just under a million tons.
- Plus cargo of another million.|- And where are the U-boats?
A submarine tracking rumour|had three U-boat packs operational...
in the North Atlantic|as of 00 hundred Thursday...
here, here and here.
Midnight Wednesday?
- So where are the U-boats now?|- I'm afraid I have no idea.
I thought that was why we were here.|Our intelligence has been shut off.
You're telling us that the largest|assembly of merchant shipping...
we've ever sent|across the North Atlantic...
is now steaming towards|the largest concentration of U-boats...
the Germans have ever put|in the North Atlantic...
and you don't know where the hell|the goddam U-boats are?
- Gentlemen, if I may--|- Shut up.
What are our convoys making, hmm?
Something over 220 miles a day.
Well, I'd say we have|four days, maximum...
before the convoys come in operational|range of where you last had the enemy.
So, Leonard, this blackout--
will it be over in four days?
Uh, it's possible.
Yes, well, all things are possible,|Leonard, but is it likely?
Is it likely that you can break this|code, this, um-- What'd you call this?
This Shark? Before our convoys come|in range of the U-boats.
- We'll give it every priority.|- Yes, I know damn well you'll|give it every priority, Leonard.
- That's not the question.|- Well, sir, as you press me, yes,|I think we may be able to do it.
Is that what you all believe?
Um, well, I suppose you could say|we know more about Shark now|than we did the last time.
If Guy thinks we can do it,|I would certainly respect his opinion.
And you?
You don't seem|to have much to say.
Tom Jericho.|He's the one who got us into|reading Shark. If there's anyone alive--
Can you break Shark again|in four days?
Have you any idea|what you're talking about?
Tom's been on sick leave for|the last month, so I don't think|he's fully in the picture--
Enigma is a very sophisticated|enciphering machine...
and Shark|is its ultimate refiinement...
so we're not talking|about The Times' crossword.
It weighs 26 pounds,|battery included...
and goes anywhere.
The Enigma machine.|The Germans have thousands of them.
What's it do?
It turns plain-text messages|into gobbledygook.
Then the gobbledygook|gets transmitted in Morse.
At the receiving end, there's another|Enigma machine to turn it back|into the original message.
Press the same key any number of times,|it will always come out different.
- And you have one of your own.|- Courtesy of the Polish Cipher Bureau.
So what's the problem?
Problem?
The problem is|the machine has 115 million|million million ways of doing it...
according to how you set these three|rotors and how you connect these plugs.
And that's Shark.
No. No, no, no.|This is the one we can break.
Shark is enciphered on a machine|with a fourth rotor specially|developed for U-boats...
which gives it about 4,000 million|billion different starting positions.
And, uh, we've never seen one.
Holy shit!
I haven't understood a word.
Can somebody give me a straight answer|to a straight question?
- Will this blackout|defiinitely be over in--|- Nobody can say defiinitely, sir.
Yes or no?
- No.|- Thank you.
So it isn't over in four days.|When will it be over, hmm?
Hmm? Hmm? You.
Well, all I have to measure it by|is how long it took last time|when Shark fiirst came in.
- And how long did it take?|- Ten months.
Well, this is a great day|for Adolf Hitler.
Ten months?
But you did break it?
Yes.
- How?|- I'm afraid I can't tell you that.
I think it's time we--
I think it's time|I got back to London.
It's not just a million tons|of shipping. It's a million|tons of shipping every week!
It's our capability to supply Russia,|to support the army in North Africa...
to invade Europe|and drive the Germans out.
- It's the whole fucking war.|- Sir.
Satisfiied? Now, send the stupid bugger|back to where he came from.
Don't waste a match.
Back to Mayfair?
No.
How many people knew|about the German weather code...
how important it was to us?
A dozen, maybe. Why?
Make me a little list?
What are you doing here,|Mr Wigram?
You think there's a spy|in Bletchley Park?
I'm Cave.|Naval Intelligence.
I'll be liaising with the admiralty.|They've given me an offiice in your hut.
I'm ultra-cleared.
- What does that mean?|- That means I know how you|broke Shark, in principle.
You used a captured copy|of the German Navy's weather code book.
Gave you a pretty good idea|of what their weather signals|were supposed to be saying.
Can I see it?
Midnight, two days ago,|the Germans changed to a new book.
- So we lost that crib.|- Well, why do you think|they did that just then?
Don't know.
And the other one?
Short signal code book.
The U-boats employ it for reporting|their position, course and speed.
Unfortunately, if you don't know where|the U-boat is or what it's doing...
the short signal code book|isn't much help as a crib.
Two men died|saving those little books...
from a sinking submarine.
Fasson and Grazier.
We caught the U-boat|on the surface in the eastern Med.
The sub went down when they|were inside trying to bring out|its four-rotor Enigma.
November '42.|I was in destroyers.
It was my last ship.
Bletchley is the lucky number|in this war.
- One and six, please.|- One and six.
Here you are.
Girls, guess I'm off.
- See you later.|- Yes, I'll see you later.
Miss Wallace?
Mr Jericho.|When did you get back?
Just today.|How, uh-- How are you?
How am I?
Yeah, all right.|How is she?
She's-- She's Claire.
- Well, will you tell her?|- If I see her.
She hasn't been sleeping|at home the last two nights.
Sorry.
Good morning, sir.
- Worrying about your babies?|- Puck.
Thomas.
So, they say you're|not crazy any more.
- It thinks it's found a possible.|- ''It thinks''?
- Why not?|- Been in the hut?
- Come on. Get it over with.|- No, I'm fiine, Puck.
Sure, you are.
Hey, Betty, wait for me!
Gentlemen, we have a ghost.
Tom, how the hell are you?
- Well. Very well.|- Have you escaped, or what?
- I thought this was the asylum.|- How are you?
- Good.|- Bloody hell!
- How's the revolution, Alec?|- Coming along, comrade. Coming along.
- T-- T-- T--|- Yes, it's me.
I, uh-- I want to see all the Shark|traffiic we haven't been able to break.
- In at the deep end.|- Why not?
- Yes, why not?|- Have you got yesterday's Porpoises?
Open the fiile.
Besides, it wasn't really Shark|that made you crazy.
Was it, Tom?
I suppose you all know.
You think I made a fool of myself?
Forget about it.|You're among friends.
So, what about the code breakers?
Kingcome, De Brooke,|Upjohn, Pukowski.
- Spot the odd one out.|- Puck lost his parents|when Poland was invaded.
His kid brother is missing in action.|He hates the Germans.
Pinker?|Bit of an arty, isn't he?
He writes detective stories.
Baxter. They say he sleeps with|a picture of Stalin under his pillow.
Perhaps you haven't heard.|Stalin's on our side now.
- And Jericho. The famous Mr Jericho.|- Mathematician.
Went off his trolley, didn't he?|About some girl.
We took him out of Cambridge|on the fiirst day of the war.
He worked himself into|a breakdown, so we shipped him|back to Cambridge to get well.
And that's all there is to it.
It's never all there is|to anything.
Shift's not over yet, ladies!
The 3:00's from Beaumanor|all need blisting.
You know, without your glasses,|you don't look half bad.
Do you know, without my glasses,|nor do you?
Claire?
I'm here.
Sorry it took an age.
Well, now you know where I am.
It's, um, off the beaten track.
Yes, well, it's better|than being snooped on by landladies.
Welfare found out I had a spare room,|so I had to share.
But Hester's a sweetie, really.|Oh, there's no sugar, I'm afraid,|but it's lapsang.
And I always think sugar would|rather spoil lapsang, don't you?
Don't know.|You're my fiirst lapsang.
I knew you'd ask me out.
- I thought you asked me out.|- Well, I had to get you started.|Aren't there any pretty girls in Hut 8?
- How do you know where I work?|- We've got an interesting men|tracking room in Hut 3.
- You're not supposed to|tell me where you--|- Besides, you're rumoured to have|done something very clever...
and I want to know what it is.
Oh, my God.|Where did they fiind you?
Oh, where did they fiind any of us?|I'm the lucky one.
You know, they've got|perfectly clever girls|working like post offiice clerks.
Not like me|on the German book.
I want that for my scrapbook.
- Can I see it?|- If you want. It's upstairs.
That's Hester.
And this is me.
You've been busy.
- Where is this?|- Loch Feochan, in Scotland,|where I'd like to be old.
If I'm ever old.|Do you think it's beautiful?
Why are you a mathematician?|Do you like sums?
I like numbers.
Because with numbers,|truth and beauty are the same thing.
You know you're getting somewhere|when the equations start looking...
beautiful.
And you know the numbers are taking you|closer to the secret of how things are.
A rose is just plain text.
My God.|What have you done?
What has she done?
- Mr Jericho?|- Miss Wallace.
I came looking for Claire.|I was worried about her.
I could fiill a bus with men|who are worried about Claire Romilly...
but that's no reason why|I shouldn't go to the police.
She'd be the fiirst person|they'd arrest.
Miss Wallace,|please put that poker down.
And if you know where she is,|for God's sake, tell me.
She's gone missing.
What are those, exactly?
Intercepts. German signals.
Yes, I know that much.
Five-letter groups. German Navy signals|are sent in four-letter groups.
So this must be army|or Luftwaffe.
Picked up by the radio scanners|at Beaumanor.
All sent between 9:30 and midnight|on April 17, nine days ago.
- But never deciphered.|- How do you know that?
Well, if it'd gone through|the machine, then plain text|would be stuck on the back.
All from the same source.|''ADU. ADU.''
Does the call sign ADU|mean anything to you, Miss Wallace?
Miss Wallace?
''Angels Dance Upwards.''
- What?|- Well, that's how we'd reference it.
- Who is it? Who is ADU?|- I don't know.
But you could fiind out.
Do you have any idea|what you're saying?
We can't just go digging through|Bletchley looking for information|about missing cryptograms.
If we want to fiind Claire, then we need|to fiind out what she was hiding.
- You think Claire is a traitor.|- Would it matter if she were?
Of course it matters.|Look...
she was probably flirting|with an offiicer and forgot|to fiile those intercepts...
so she hid them|rather than get told off.
Or she stole them|and then she ran away.
You really are mad,|aren't you?
And I would have to be even madder|to have any part in this little|amateur sleuthing adventure.
Miss Wallace.|Miss Wallace!
You said yourself|that she was missing.
Now, is that normal?|Is that her habit?
Well, she does always come home|to change her clothes.
Well, there you are.
Is she seeing anyone,|do you know?
What exactly is your interest here?
You can reach me at Armstrong's|Guest House in Albion Street.
ADU, Miss Wallace.
Angels Dance Upwards.
They call it BlacBottom|the new twister
lt's sure got 'em|and, oh, sister
They clap their hands|and do a raggedy flop and a hop
Old fellows with lumbago
nd high yellow|The waves they go
They jump right in|and give us all that they've got
They say that when that river bottom's|covered with ooze
You silly, silly girl.
These people keep|such funny hours.
I haven't heard--|Oh, Mr Jericho!
You have a visitor.|You can have the parlour.
We don't have guests|in the bedrooms after 10:00.
Oh, Mrs Armstrong, it's perfectly|sweet of you to worry...
but I don't mind taking|the risk just this once.
Well, I suppose it's all right|if you're from the park.
Mr Wigram, would you care|for a cup of Ovaltine?
Ovaltine?
I haven't had Ovaltine since--|no, no--
Ovaltine. Thank you.|I don't think my system could take it.
What a charming house.
And hunting prints.|Do you hunt?
Where are you based?|Here?
Bliss.
What can I do for you,|Mr, um, Wigram?
There's something|I've been wondering about.
You're the man|who broke the U-boat code.
Hmm?|Champagne all around.
Happy days are here again,|all right?
Then you fell out of your pram.
So what happened?
It was personal.
I can keep a secret.
Wonderful thing about war--
Peacetime is about keeping|the people in their place.
But then war breaks out,|and life was never so glorious.
The toiling masses|turn into heroes...
and their little women start dropping|their drawers like debutantes.
- Well, if that's all you--|- And best of all, the swots.
Dragged out in a cloud of dandruff|from some dim backwater...
and invited to the ball.
At Bletchley, you're as glamorous|as fiighter pilots.
Girls you couldn't even hope to meet|go weak at the knees...
at the thought of the size|of your brain, isn't that right?
If talking through your arse|is what they teach you in spy school--
I'm talking about you|and a girl called Claire Romilly.
We're rather worried about her.
Offiicially been missing for 14 hours,|give or take. When in fact,|it's more like 48 hours.
She hasn't been seen|since she went off-duty on Thursday.
Rather a good friend|of yours, I gather.
I-I haven't seen her since befo--|since before I--
Quite.|Heard from her?
- No.|- Apart from the postcard.
Let's try to remember everything.
It saves misunderstandings.
Did you go to the cottage tonight?|Don't think about it.
- Yes.|- Yes.
Yes.
Mind if I sit down?
I've been away for a month.|I wanted to look her up.
You ever discuss|your work with her?
- Of course not.|- Um, how about a gun?
- Any guns?|- A gun?
A gun from that museum of yours...
liberated from a captured U-boat|along with the code books, the captain's|teddy bear and what have you.
All very improper and unsigned for,|but I turned a blind eye.
But no reason why you should know,|a chap like you.
Mind if I check the coat?
While we're at it--
- You sure you don't mind?|- I'm beginning to.
You see my point, though,|don't you?
One day the Germans black us out|in the North Atlantic.
Next day, girlfriend|of crack code breaker disappears--
vanishes.
- Code breaker returns,|shiny new shooter goes missing.|- She's not my girlfriend.
Hmm? What is she, then?
We were-- I suppose the phrase is|''seeing each other''...
for about a month.
Is that what happened to you?
What?
Is Claire Romilly|what happened to you?
There was a concert.
I went on my own.
Oh, it's you.|You found my slipper.
Afterwards, Claire, Hester--|Miss Wallace, who shares the cottage--
and I, we came out together.
Next week was going to be Bach.
Oh, we must go.
Oh, I can't.|I'm on the night shift.
Oh, Hester. Poor you.
''Poor you,'' she said.|That's one of her phrases.
So, I asked her.
I say, I hope you don't think it|fresh of me, but should we go together?
Of course you did.|And, uh, after that?
After that?
I had the happiest month|of my whole life.
Not happiest. Something.
- You can! You can.|- I can't.
You can. Yes.
Ready? One, two, three,|four, fiive, six, seven, eight.
- Sorry.|- No, you can't.
- Claire!|- Aaron!
- May I?|- Do you mind?
No.
It's my favourite club.
- Mine too.|- Oh, yes, I'm sure.
How do you get the petrol coupons to go|zipping up and down to London?
Secret, darling.|I know a chap.
- No, but how?|- It's not what you think.
Do you have to know everything?
I don't know why you want me.|Let's get married before it stops.
- Tom, don't.|- I love you!
They say you shouldn't fall in love|in a war. You never know what's coming.
I love you.|I really love you.
No cottage.
- Is that code, darling?|- Yes.
- I want to see where you sleep.|- Landlady has rules.
So have I.|Hester's at home.
Oh.
I'll be quiet as a mouse.|Promise.
Shh. Shh.
Sleep with her?
I'll take that as a yes.
And then you quarrelled?
Quarrelled? No.
Claire? Darling?
Sorry, darling.
Go back to sleep.
- What are you doing?|- I'm just looking through your things.
No photographs?
You've never given me|a photograph.
You're all secrets,|aren't you?
I've no secrets from you.|Please come back to bed.
What's this? What's the|entscheidungsproblem when it's at home?
That's just something|I was working on at Cambridge.
It's a-- It's a theoretical|machine that--
- Theoretical. So it doesn't exist?|- Please, come back to bed.
Well, this will do.|I want something of yours to keep.
Give it back.
- Why?|- Because it means nothing|to you and a lot to me.
- Aren't I clever enough, darling?|- Please, Claire!
No!
Give it back.|Give it back.
It's not funny, Claire!
Claire, I'm sorry.|Please forgive me.
I'm really, really sorry.
Claire--
She moved on.
Why won't you answer my letters?
Are you seeing someone else?
I'm always seeing someone else.
Yes.
She moved on.
Not right, Mr Jericho.
Can't quite put my fiinger on it...
but defiinitely not right.
Were you surprised when they told you|that Admiral Doenitz...
had changed the German Navy|weather code?
Any bells go off?
Germans were always nervous|about Enigma.
Well, the Germans are supposed|to think that Enigma's|an unbreakable system...
because it would take thousands of years|to go through every setting...
to fiind the one that turns|the code back into the plain text.
Next day, it's different again. Using|human beings, Enigma is safe forever...
but we don't use|human beings for that.
Do we...
Mr Jericho?
- No.|- No.
And that is the secret|inside the secret.
All they know thus far|is that the weather code|opened a crack in the system...
because somebody told them.
But what if somebody tells them|just how we do do it?
Your thinking machine.|Clackety-clack, day and night.
Programmed with a menu,|thanks to your big brain...
that reduces the odds|to just a few million to one...
till it locks on to|the winning combination.
There goes the war.
Oh.
I've got a little list.
You're on it.
Communists, foreign nationals...
geniuses just this side|of barking mad.
Altogether, a security nightmare.
But of all these names, Mr Jericho,|you are the only one...
who got himself fucked into|a nervous breakdown by a missing blonde.
You live quietly from now on.
Where does one pee around here?
To the right.
Good night, Mrs Armstrong.
Talk to me!|What do you want to know?
Do you want to know about Shark?|Do you want to know about Shark?
Any secret. Ask me.|Ask me! I'll tell you!
Poor you. I really got|under your skin, didn't I?
Good morning.
- Good morning.|- You look tired, sir.
Morning!
- Have you heard the latest?|- No.
Utility knickers--|one Yank, and they're off.
Naughty, naughty.
- Came through the door for you.|- lf there is some other way
To prove that l love you
l swear l don'tnow how
Preserve my body and soul|into everlasting peace.
Take and eat this in remembrance|that Christ died for you.
Thank you for your note.
I take it it's about Claire.|Have you heard anything?
She hasn't turned up,|if that's what you mean.
- But you've got something.|- Take this and eat this in remembrance|that Christ died for you.
I don't know why I'm doing this.
The body of our Lord,|Jesus Christ, which was given freely.
Preserve my body and soul--
ADU is the call sign|of Nachtrichten, Regiment 537...
a motorized German|Army signals unit based...
in the Ukraine.
Its messages are encoded in the standard|cipher for the Russian campaign.
- We call it Kestrel.|- Kestrel.
Seven messages|with the call sign ADU...
were intercepted|in March and April...
not counting the last four|on April the 17th, which you found.
I've written down the dates|and times of interception.
A spy doesn't steal the enemy's signals.|And anyway, they were never de--
They were never decoded. Why would|she steal four messages she can't read?
She must have stolen them|to read them.
She stole them to read them.|But there's no way she could have.
- Why not?|- She couldn't. It just--
Just take my word for it.
God preserve me.|Another one.
I seem to move, Mr Jericho,|in an endless round...
from one patronizing male|to another...
forever being told what I am|and what I am not allowed to know.
Well, that ends here.
So, what would she need|to read them?
I'm sorry.|You can't ask me that.
But you can ask me to sneak|into the Index Room and risk|getting hung up by my thumbs.
- Good morning.|- Cheerio, then.
Oh, Chr-- Miss Wallace.
Miss Wallace!
She'd need--|She'd need a Typex machine.
Every day, our Typex machines|have to be set...
the same way the Germans|set their Enigmas.
Otherwise, you just get|nonsense from nonsense.
And working out each day's settings|is the hard part.
That's where|the code breakers come in.
- How?|- Well, you-- you need a crib.
- I'll see you later, then.|- Suppose that gravestone was in code.
If I knew who was buried here, more|or less, I'd know what the code meant.
That's a crib.
And when you've set the machine,|you type in the coded message.
If it comes out nonsense,|the settings are wrong.
If it comes out|''Mary Jane Hawkins''...
you've broken Enigma for that day.
Why would Claire get hold of the|Kestrel settings for April the 17th?
She couldn't have,|unless she had help.
Kestrel would be fiiled in Hut 6.
It's your hut.
So now I'm a traitor too.
Well, maybe she got access|to one of the Typex machines from you.
Typex girls work around the clock.
Sorry.
Stuck.
Look.
The fiirst seven ADUs were decoded.
Now, what happens|to decoded messages?
They get written into the German book.|That's Claire's job.
Then what?
Well, then they get fiiled with|everything else in the main registry.
- Ever been in there?|- Once or twice to check some--
No. No, no, no, no.
Oh, dear, would you like some tea?
- Reference or loan?|- Reference.
- Section?|- Hut 6. Control.
- What are they?|- Kestrel intercepts, March and April.
- He's been a dark horse, hasn't he?|- Hmm. Surprise a minute.
But there are complications.
Sorry to have been so long.
I've never come across this before.
- The fiile was empty?|- There was a typewritten note...
dated April the 17th...
referring all inquiries|to the Offiice of the Director General.
And that night, four fiinal ADU|messages got in under the wire...
never deciphered, never fiiled...
taken home by Claire and hidden.
Who is the Director General?
Chief of the Special|Intelligence Service.
And he gets his orders straight|from the prime minister.
We're stuck again.
Maybe. Maybe not.
I've got the hang|of this detective work.
But l've been told|that everything's oay
You're out of bounds!
- Mr Mermagen.|- What are you doing?
Can you help me?
Machine Room needs the Kestrel settings|for the last couple of weeks.
They've found a batch of intercepts|fallen behind a desk.
- They've done what?|- I know.
But please don't tell.|It was actually a friend of mine.
Ah, you girls.
You know, I should really|report you for this...
but--
One good turn|deserves another, hmm?
Why, Mr Mermagen.
What will your wife say?
The Kestrel settings|for the whole of March and April.
Christ.
So, at least there's still|a chance we can read the ones|you found in Claire's bedroom.
- I've burnt them.|- You what?
Hello, Tom.|Mind if we join you?
- You can't m-m-m-mean it.|- Well, of course I mean it.
Drowning herself was Virginia Woolf's|greatest contribution|to English literature.
- Actually, we were just leaving.|- Waste not, want not.
Whale meat.|Brain food, Tom.
- You burned them!|- I had a close call with that lounge|lizard Wigram from Special Intelligence.
I panicked. But the worst of it is,|I could have read them.
- How?|- I didn't need a Typex machine.
We've got a real Enigma|in the museum.
- Well, when did you fiind that out?|- Well, I knew. I just-- I just forgot.
You forgot?
And you're the genius.
You know, I won a newspaper|crossword competition.
I beat two men. All three of us|were recruited for Bletchley.
They're cryptanalysts now.
And I'm a glorifiied fiile clerk.
'Course, if I'd been a daddy's girl|from some posh fiinishing school--
God, look, it's time|to go back on shift.
- You?|- Not for a bit.
Right.
Did she ever say anything about me?
Well, she must like you.
The way she talks about the others--
A bus load, you said?
The Romilly effect.
One look, and they're ''Romillied.''
Who was she seeing?|I only mean it might be a way forward.
- I know what you think about me.|- No, you don't.
Well, I feel like an idiot.
And you aren't the one standing here|with the Kestrel settings|stuffed into your knickers.
Look, I don't know|who she was seeing...
and I really think|we'd better call this a day.
Don't you?
Bye, then.
Miss Wallace.
I haven't been lookin'|to the right or left...
so there's something|I didn't see clearly.
What's that?
That you're a remarkable--
I think you're simply wonderful.
Tom, nice of you to turn up.
- Look, I don't know|what Skynner's been saying.|- Shut the door.
He wants you out.
''Send him back to Cambridge,|and this time make the bugger walk.''
I got you the rail pass.
- Not now!|- No, you can't do that, Guy. Tell them|you want to give me a couple of days.
- Why?|- To see if I can fiind a way|back into Shark.
Tom, it was you that announced|that it couldn't be done in four days.
It was you that made Skynner look|a fool in front of his clients.
Now you want me to go back and|tell him-- Piss off, for God's sake!
Sorry, Guy. Hello, Thomas.|You'd better come and hear this.
Two long signals from U-boat|headquarters in the last 12 hours.
One just before midnight,|one just after. Rebroadcast twice.
- Then nothing.|U-boat fleet is on radio silence.|- Christ.
They're on battle stations.
Say 12 U-boats 20 miles apart...
possibly two lines,|possibly three.
An ambush covering|hundreds of miles of ocean.
And this time,|we don't know where.
And one golden rule--|absolute radio silence.
- And wh-- wh--|- What then?
Either the convoy is lucky and misses|the ambush, or it isn't lucky.
And the fiirst U-boat to make contact|with the convoy breaks radio silence.
-How?|-Minimally, using the short signal book.
It compresses the necessary information|to a few letters--
sighting of convoy,|position, course and speed.
That's repeated every two hours.|As it's picked up by the other|U-boats in the line...
they start to converge on the convoy|and send a contact signal in their turn.
Contact signal.
They'll shadow|the convoy till nightfall.|They prefer to attack in the dark.
We haven't got as much time|as we'd thought. I'd say, a day,|a day and a half at the outside.
- Mary Jane Hawkins.|- The oracle has spoken.
They changed the weather code,|but they didn't change|the short signal code book.
It's our way back into Shark,|so long as the U-boats fiind our convoy.
Don't you see?|It's our convoy.
We know what the U-boats|are sending. It's the crib|that we've been looking for.
- Would you get enough material?|- How many signals do you need?
One group of letters|for the convoy sighted...
two groups for grid reference, one group|for course, one group for speed.
Five groups of letters|per contact signal every two hours.
Shadowing the convoy for maybe 10 hours,|12-- that's 25 groups of letters.
And how many U-boats joining in?|Eight, ten?
Each one a contact signal|every two hours.
My God, he's right.|He's found us a crib.
- Brilliant.|- A-A-Appalling.
We've never had an operation on this|scale. The contact signals could easily|build up to give us a crib...
of 100 group of letters|and we've got the short|signal code book in the museum.
He's right, Guy.
Where are the keys to the museum?
Good Christ, Tom. We have to protect|the convoys, not sacrifiice them.
You know what it's like out there.
The success of this plan|depends on arranging a massacre.
No. No, we are not arranging anything.|What happens is going to happen.
But if we can use it to|our advantage, we'll be able|to decipher every signal...
sent by every U-boat|on the high seas for 24 hours!
- Including the weather reports.|- Yeah. We'll have the plain text.
We can make a start on reconstructing|the new weather code.
- This puts us back in the fiight.|- And there will be many more|convoys to protect.
You're back in business,|old thing.
Garbled text from Beaumanor.|Somebody get on the blower.
Miss Chamberlain, would you?|Get them to check their fiile copy.
Pam, does Beaumanor keep copies|of everything they send us?
- Yes. It's all there on fiile.|- Thank you.
Hello. Could I have Beaumanor 392?
Miss Wallace!
No female visitors upstairs.|That's the rule!
Mr Jericho, wake up.|It's not over.
- We need to borrow your Enigma machine.|- Didn't you hear?
Top copy goes straight to|your people by teleprinter...
or by dispatch rider,|depending on priority.
The second copy we keep,|in case of garbles.
Can we see?
Well, if you want.|There's not much to it.
It's a treat for us,|you know, a visit from head offiice|to the country cousins.
It's good of you to say so,|but, um...
a fat lot of use we'd be|without your intercepts, Major.
We keep them a couple of months,|fiiled chronologically.
These sets are tuned to the|Eastern Front-- Kestrel, Buzzard, Kite.
- And you're intercepting everything?|- Absolutely.
Except that time|the other week, of course.
Kestrel, wasn't it?
Yes, your Miles Mermagen came|on the blower in a frightful panic.
''No more ADU, thank you very much.|Not now, not ever.''
- What's that about?|- Orders from above.
We'd just sent him|four good, clean signals.
It was Kay here who handled|our mystery station.
Carry on.
Yeah, he has a good fiist, ADU.|Touch like a concert pianist.
He's still transmitting?
Of course, I don't take him down any|more, but he was awful busy last week.
Oh, excuse me, sir.
What was it you said|you did again, Mr--
-Jericho.|-Jericho.
Can't say, I'm afraid.|Catch you up.
- Major, how many machines|did you say you have here?|- We have 48 here.
Excuse me.
He's on now,|if you're interested, sir.
Thank you.
I don't mean|to bother you, sir...
but it is important,|isn't it?
I know I shouldn't ask.|I mean, no one ever tells us.
You are making sense of it?|It is important?
Yes.
This is our only war, you see,|in here-- beep, beep, bloody beep.
And it's always nonsense,|nonsense, nonsense.
Yes, we are|making sense of it...
and it is important.
Eleven ADU signals|and launchings.
That's the car.|Man, woman, two-seater roadster.
Invite him to stop, shall we?
Take him, man! Take him!
Mr Jericho, stop! Stop! Stop!
Look out!
Shit.
Bravo, Mr Jericho.
Reckon, given the circumstances,|Miss Wallace...
we might now risk|fiirst names.
Hester.
Tom.
This might be good.|It looks deserted enough.
Well spotted.
Bliss.
- What would they do to us if they knew?|- Feed us to the dogs.
Charming.
Right.
March and April|Beaumanor log sheets...
and the intercepts|from March 28th...
April 3rd, April 9th,|15th, 16th, 17th...
and Kestrel settings--|last one fiirst.
Might tell us|why Claire disappeared.
Right. April 17, rotor order.
R-X-O.
- Plug board settings.|- A-O-E-M.
The current passes|from the keyboard...
to the lamps by way|of the rotors and the plugs.
And every time you press a key,|it changes the path of the current.
Press the same key ten times,|it comes out ten different ways|on the lamp board.
You never know which letters|will light up. Simply brilliant.
Message key X-A-T.
- Ready?|- Ready.
- ''Y.''|- ''K.''
- ''E.''|- ''A.''
''W.''
''C.''
- ''U.''|- Zed.
''M.''
''V.''
- ''Q''|- ''X.''
It's not right, is it?|This isn't German.
Keep going. Sometimes the operator|pads out with nonsense.
Keep going.
- Um, ''K.''|- Zed.
- ''E.''|- ''R.''
- ''O.''|- ''A.''
- ''F.''|- ''D.''
Isn't German.|Come on, genius!
I'm sorry. It's double coded,|or the settings must be wrong.
It's all been for nothing.
I'm afraid I have to ask you|to hurry up.
Search the barn.
This is Mr Leveret.|Detective Inspector Leveret.
He wants to know what you've been up to.|But fiirst things fiirst.
You've been here before?
And you?
Line up in the street|and search the area.
Have a look at this, sir.|It's down there.
- Right, sir.|- There?
Drag the river.
Please talk to me! What do you want to|know? I'll tell you anything you want.
Give me your hand.
Do you wanna know about Shark?|Any secret. Ask me!
Come this way.
I've got something to show you.|Get your notebook out.
Miss Wallace fiirst.
I am showing the witness|one ladies' coat, colour grey...
trimmed with black velvet.
Label: Hunters, Burlington Arcade.
- And the witness responded--|- Yes. It's hers.
Yes.
Next, one ladies' shoe...
black high heel.
Uh, heel snapped off.
And the witness responded--
Yes.
It's an old quarry.
They built the town|with what they dug out.
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 bitch.
- 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 fucked 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.
- But it's true, isn't it?|- The Katyn massacre?
Oh, really, do shut up. There's a war|to win, and Stalin's helping us win it.
And they hate|the Russians, you know.
They've hated them|for centuries.
So what's Pukowski|going to do to get back at them?
Help the enemy. That's what.
His enemy's enemy.
And he's got a big piece of knowledge|that can help the Germans-- Shark.
- The weather code.|- Claire couldn't have known what|he'd do. She wasn't a traitor.
I'm sure you're right.
But then Pukowski heard|that you were coming back.
Jericho, the lover who wouldn't let go,|who'd cracked once before.
The swot who was invited to the ball,|found Cinderella's slipper...
and went so crazy|he would've told her anything.
And you would have, wouldn't you?|About how we lost Shark.
And the rumour that there was a mole|in the park, probably in your hut.
How long would it have taken Claire|to work out that the traitor|was Puck? About a minute.
So he killed her.
One-way to Manchester,|according to the ticket collector.
Change the watch.
Well, let's see where|and to whom he will lead us, hmm?
Train approaching, platform three.
lt's the 3.:15 to Manchester.
How do you get the petrol coupons|to go zipping up and down to London?
Secret, darling. I know a chap.
Train standing, platform three.|3.:15 for Manchester only.
Manchester, next stop.
That's it for you.
Go home, keep your head down...
and I might try and forget about you and|your moll breaking the Highway Code...
and the Offiicial Secrets Act|on the same day.
Train standing, platform three.
You've been trying to frighten me|into keeping my head down|right from the start. Why?
Because somehow|I frighten you. Why?
Because of Claire.|My connection with Claire.
Be careful now.
The night you came to my room, you|already had Pukowski in your sights...
yet you went out of your way|to play the heavy with me.
And then you were more concerned|about Claire Romilly than|you were about Shark.
- A girl who'd missed her shift? Why?|- Why? She was his girlfriend.
Oh, no. She was more than that.
She was working for you.|Claire was your agent.
She told you everything,|even how I found her shoe.
As you said, Bletchley was|a security nightmare, so you put a girl|in the park to do your dirty work.
Surely you mean|her patriotic duty.
Everything that she did,|she did because you told her.|You had her fucking for England.
And then when she got to Pukowski,|it went wrong. She took pity on him...
and she told him what she was|writing in the German book.
No wonder you were frightened.
You'd made a terrible mistake, and your|agent paid for it with her life. Claire.
He's jumped!
He's gone!
Come on! Back it up!|Back the train up!
What are they doing?
Sir, please. The station's clear.|Roadblocks are in place.
- Search the train again.|- He's not on the train!
- We'll have to let it go.|- Please be patient.
Oh, Puck, there's a message|left for you at the switchboard.|It's Adelphi 4-2-4-3.
- Keep the change.|- Thank you very much.
- To the station, rather fast, please.|- Ma'am.
You bloody idiot.|This time I can't save you.
You broke Skynner's cheekbone.
Tom. Well, weather code is,|uh, c-c-cracking open.
Where's Puck?
- Check our weather report--|- How bad is it?
It's bad.
But we are reading Shark,|thanks to you lot.
- What's this?|- Grid square A-M-2-9.|We think it's a garbled signal.
- Signal to a U-boat?|- Mmm. U-617.
Ordered out of battle|to proceed immedi--
Yes?
Where is this?
Loch Feochan, in Scotland, where|I'd like to be old. If I'm ever old.
So, it's the real thing.|U-671, rendezvous in 24 hours.
Our turn to fiind a sitting duck.
My God.
- Be careful.|- I will.
Damn it.
- I'm on the chosen frequency.|- Sir.
- There's probably interference.|- Swing around. I'll fiine-tune it.
Perfect.
Just in time to bugger up|the whole operation.
- Do you want to abort?|- Are you serious?
- I didn't kill her.|- I know.
Do you think|I'm here for that?
- That's right, my darling.|- They're ready.
Up you come.
What about the rest of it?
The real secret you want|to tell the Germans, about|how we really broke the code?
- About my machines!|- Thomas, Thomas.
- You can have your enemy.|Let me have mine.|- No.
Well, shoot me, then.
- It's your show, but your man--|- He is not my man.
Serve it up.
- Go ahead.|- Tell Auntie Mae the package is ready.
Dinner's ready.
Bullseye!
- Run out a couple of yards there.|- You're looking in the wrong place.
Oh, it's Mr Jericho.
Come home again|with his batteries dried out.
You turned out to be|some swot.
- I tip my hat to you.|- She's not there. Didn't you hear me?
She's moved on.
The murder scene was like|a pile of clothes left on a beach.
Sometimes it means|somebody's dead.
Sometimes it means|somebody wanted to disappear.
Like an agent who'd been|turned by her target.
It was you|who saw it before I did.
What makes you think that?
Pukowski was on the train,|and you were letting him run.
He knew the secret that could lose us|the war. Remember? The thinking machine.
You were holding back to see|who he would lead you to.
Who the hell could it be|to make you take that risk?
Only Claire.
Well, I was wrong, wasn't I?
She wasn't with Pukowski.
She was waiting for him|up the line to take him to|her little Scottish hideaway...
where a couple of runaway lovers|could sit out the rest of the war.
Do you think I didn't check?
She loved him, and Pukowski brought her|all the way to the brink...
but then he had to tell her|what she didn't know...
about the U-boat|coming to pick him up, and why.
If they got caught,|they'd both hang.
But there was no going back.|Only forward, to Germany.
But then,|he didn't know Claire.
She was no traitor.
She's out there, somewhere...
like a sword|hanging over your head.
In different ways,|she fooled us all.
She was unreadable.
- Stick to sums.|- I think I've got something!|Easy does it!
What have you got there?
Steady.
- We're losing her, lads.|- Do you want it to be her?
Steady, now.
False alarm!
Shut up.
Keep looking.
Oh, I will.
I will.
- Sorry I'm late.|- It's all right.
I was getting worried|about you two.