Slow Horses

Oh, hi. I'm here about the leak.

It all seems quite clear. Thanks.

I-I'd like to check, if that's okay.

Could I see some ID?

Sure.

Why did you come back here?

I forgot something.

What was in France?

Oh, you know, French people, baguettes.

Do you really think this is the right moment for cheeky banter?

I need to speak with my grandfather

before you debrief us, okay?

And you need to promise to protect him.

If you do that, I'll answer everything you have, okay?

Why wouldn't we protect him? What's he done?

- Can you guarantee all that? - Where is he?

Give me your word.

We're taking you to the Park.

- You're in no position to make demands. - Okay, fine.

Who are you?

Oh, sorry, forgetting my manners. Frank Harkness.

Although, you know me by another name.

Mitch Philpott.

I'm not the real Mitch Philpott, obviously.

No, he died a couple of years ago, you didn't know that, Molly.

But I brought him back from the dead to have a little chat with you last week,

and you were so happy to talk to someone from the old days.

It was kind of pathetic.

You wanted to get in touch with David Cartwright and Sam Chapman,

needed their addresses.

Yeah.

We spoke about old ops.

You had all the details, which makes you ex-CIA.

Mm-hmm.

What?

If I'm not back at the Park within an hour, they'll come looking.

No, they won't. No one will miss you, Molly.

That's why I picked you.

You built your own dungeon and you shut everyone out.

What do you want?

Okay, good.

Person of interest has just been picked up.

I need to know where the Dogs are taking him.

Presumably to the Park. You don't need me to tell you that.

No, that's true, Molly, I don't.

But if you give me your fingerprint and your access codes,

I can then work my magic and track their journey.

Maybe say "hello," on the way

before they get swallowed up by the machine.

I'm more of a hard-copy girl.

But you still have access codes to the Park's computer systems.

I don't use them, so I don't remember them.

Oh, come on, don't do yourself down, Molly. You remember everything.

That's why you're in charge of the archive.

My powers of recall aren't what they were.

Oh, o-okay.

Okay.

I can always cut off your finger, yeah?

Lay it on the keypad and take out an eye to jog your memory.

And fuck it, if you're gonna be an asshole about it,

I can saw through your remaining leg.

- - Even you up a little.

So, what do you say?

What do you say?

Do you... Do you have to do that? Right.

- Does he have to do this? - You've been pretty elusive, so, yes.

This is Robert Winters and the guy whose face you blew off.

Where did you get this?

I told you, I'm not saying anything until I've spoken to my grandfather.

- Are you trying not to incriminate him? -

What if the two other people in this photo are planning a second Westacres?

If there's any information you withhold,

which means we don't stop them setting off another bomb,

- that's on you. - Westacres was a one-off. I think.

Well, that's comforting.

Shall I take the official threat level down a few notches based on this hunch?

Look, this is good for you, isn't it? You get to bring us both in.

So, just give me five minutes. That's all I want.

Okay. You'll have your five minutes.

Thank you.

Where is he?

- Catherine Standish's. - Jesus Christ.

Lamb already tried that one. He's not there.

What?

- -

What?

I've got River Cartwright. He was at his grandfather's.

Why?

Well, he won't say.

Well, what is he saying?

Nothing. Just wants to talk to his grandfather.

Who doesn't? How's that going by the way?

Someone set off the fire alarm. When my guys got in, he'd gone.

I've got people combing through CCTV now.

Did River have the Lockhead passport on him?

- Yes. - Bring it to me.

Once you've taken him down to the basement.

Should be logged first.

Just bring it to me. I will take care of it.

Where is he?

Shut up.

- Does Lamb have him? - Shut up.

And why didn't you tell her about the photograph?

Shut up!

Let me out.

- It's all right, David. - You have to let me out.

You work for me, you do as I tell you.

You retired years ago, you daft sod.

And I quit working for you well before then.

Now, who'd you send guns and money to in France?

Fuck off, Lamb. I don't answer to you or to him.

- To who? - Mmm?

Whoever's in France.

- Take me to First Desk. - No.

Are we going back to Slough House?

No!

- Where are you taking me? - Just sit back and shut up!

Should've got a taxi.

What's the hurry?

Just 'cause you can't afford it.

How much did you get for that gun?

What the fuck? Thanks.

You sold a gun?

I borrowed some money against a gun, yeah.

But I'm getting it back.

From Dancer Blaine?

How do you know Dancer?

I ran an undercover gun op.

Well, tell her he's a good guy. He doesn't sell to gangs.

What, just gentlemen collectors, is it?

- He doesn't sell to street gangs. - Thank you.

But he does sell to organized crime...

- - ...unlicensed bodyguards.

- Boutique arms dealer? Nice. Classy. -

Uh, was all that coke you snorted fair trade?

Sorry, do you pay tax on your gambling winnings?

Hello?

You left a message about my son.

- - Oh, hi... Um... Sorry.

Guys, shut up! Guys, shut up. It's River's mother.

- Muppet. - Sorry.

You said something had happened to him.

Yeah, yeah. Uh, there was...

there was an incident at your father's house.

And someone... someone tried to hurt him.

And there was a body which was misidentified as River.

How the hell did someone get that wrong?

You-You're probably wondering how your father is?

Oh, not really.

Okay, well, he's... he's missing,

and River is in the field, we've lost contact with him.

Would you like me to call you if there's any news about your father?

No, no. We haven't spoken in years.

When you see River, remind him I exist.

Well?

That family, what a car crash.

You called.

When you were over at the Park,

you were sent the police duty logs for the surrounding area.

Acknowledge.

Uh, yes. Sorry. Right. Duty logs.

Um, well, that's not usually anything very interesting.

The odd drunk, pickpockets, occasional mugging.

And curb-crawling over by the old industrial estate.

- Ah, yes. Poor souls. -

I know. I pity the man who has to pay for sex.

I was referring to the prostitutes.

This report came in a couple of weeks before you were moved.

Does that strike you as a regular name?

"Galahad." Yes, I remember thinking, not very knightly behavior.

And do you think that's someone's real name?

Well, it's certainly a very unusual name.

It's a Met code name for someone who works at the Park.

Who?

Well, you need next-level genius for that.

- - Right.

Well, where am I gonna find such a genius?

Relax. Ho's here.

Oh, my God. Him?

Yeah. He is why you're here.

Because he likes the ladies...

- - ...of the night.

Meeting.

Upstairs now.

- Who put you in charge? - Circumstances.

Ain't nothing without me.

Right, so what do we... what do we know?

That I should be leading the meeting?

What are we doing here?

Right. We've got agents in the field,

so let's... let's work out a way that we can support them.

Great help, Coe.

It helps him block things out.

Coe, seriously, do you think you could try and be in the room?

There's nothing going on in this room. We can't help anyone.