Spooks

This is Ruth Evershed, joining us from GCHQ.

You know what's going on. GCHQ planted you on us.

Danny?

I only said I'd go on the barge because of you.

You're on probation.

Congratulations, Tom.

A superb display of leadership.

It's all part of the game.

- We're here for our masters, not pleasure. - Oh, I don't know.

- You look amazing. - Thank you.

- Some other time. - Yeah, I'd like that.

'Transport chaos hit the capital

'as the latest 24-hour strike on London Underground started at 8pm,

'increasing pressure on the government to find a solution

'for what is now looking like a new Winter of Discontent.

'Shadow Cabinet spokesman Charles Lindsay... '

- (Zoe) Charles Lindsay. - The man who had the fling with the guy?

Who knew the girl that sold the thing? Yep.

'... that commuters were the pawns of a battle

'between the government and the unions.

'New Labour came into power on a wave of optimism... '

- Don't you two have homes to go to? - Tube strike. It's raining. No cabs.

We train you to be resourceful.

- Can we get a pool car on strike days? - Operational purposes only.

I can provide you with specially-designed waterproofing equipment.

Standard issue. You press this button here.

'... air-traffic controllers, railway staff, firemen.

'The government must be asking itself - what next? '

Platoon! Attention!

All turn to the right. Right turn!

A charge of fighting contrary to section 43A of the Army Act.

The accused, Corporal Eric Woods,

wishes to make a statement to an officer outside his regiment.

Sir.

I wish to inform you about a situation.

A matter of national security.

We have an enemy within.

I can name the man who poses the biggest threat

the British Army is currently facing.

The man who rank and file Army think walks on water.

Major Samuel Curtis.

Major Curtis may be a hero to a generation of junior ranks.

He may have a chest full of medals and a place in the public heart...

but it is my duty to inform you that he has the power to destroy our army.

You see, Major Curtis is planning industrial action.

A laying down of arms.

This government is about to face a mutiny from the British Army.

Shit.

What's going on today in the wondefful world of espionage?

Well, the tube dispute is ongoing. Our people in the RMT and TGWU

say they're ready to get in the ring -

- possible wildcat actions. - Headline intel?

There's an avalanche coming in from our union sources.

50 agents in key sectors all saying the same thing.

- Specifically? - While the government's back is turned,

- the unions are gathering strength. - Stay on it.

We must keep this country's infrastructure working. Next. How's Tom getting on?

Enemy front! Enemy front!

- Move it! - Enemy front!

- Three opposite. - Get down... and mount!

- We'll go first. - Hold on.

- Get down! - Quickly!

- Down! - One Section assaulting.

Move!

- Whoa, whoa! - (Soldier whistles) Stop!

What are you doing?

- Everyone all right? - Sir.

Weapon.

Never... ever... forget.

The SA80 individual weapon cannot, under any circumstances,

be fired from the left shoulder.

The cocking handle will break your jaw

and you'll get a faceful of hot metal casings, even with blanks.

That's the standard British Army rifle. Learn to love it.

- Yes, Major Curtis. - You didn't design the bastard.

David, end-ex. Return your men to barracks.

- Sir. - Sergeant-Major Baker,

- stand the rest of the men down. - Sir! End-ex!

'Tom has been contacting us daily at 0700 and 2300 hours.

'Curtis's company are about to go overseas - they're on full-time exercise.'

But there are some morale problems on base.

Tom photo-messaged this from his mobile last night.

"Fancy spending nine months away from home on crap pay?

"Provide strike cover for firemen earning twice as much money

"and face the possibility of being killed for a country

"full of greedy, pathetic and selfish individuals?

"Sign below. Army - Be Depressed."

- Fair point. - Satire never brought a country down.

Curtis is a soldier's soldier.

He won't sit behind a desk. He takes full part in all exercises.

But Woods, our whistleblower corporal, codename Nightingale,

- has no proof that Curtis is planning mutiny. - We could be wasting our time.

No strike cover for industrial disputes?

No security backup in case of major terrorist incident?

Britain's interests overseas put in severe jeopardy?

Every tinpot general from Somalia to North Korea

and all points in between gloating on CNN?

The special relationship with our cousins severely embarrassed?

Until we know for sure, it's not time wasted.

So... what do we know about Curtis?

Well, Sam Curtis led five men over 200 miles of Iraqi desert in 1991

and was the subject of a bestseller.

Eric Woods glassed a fireman in a pub,

then put the spotlight on Curtis in a bid for leniency.

- I say pass this over to Army Intelligence. - Curtis's reputation precedes him.

It'd be like asking the Vatican to prove Mary wasn't a virgin.

He's a military legend and a public hero.

He'll end up with a statue in Trafalgar Square.

Chief of Defence Staff is adamant this is our jurisdiction.

If Curtis is guilty, we've got to stop him. Thank you all.

What if we went on strike?

Well, if the Army went on strike,

it'd be obvious once the Chinese Red Army marched down Whitehall.

If we went on strike... I don't think anyone would notice.

Sir.

- Afternoon, sir. - Afternoon.

- You're late. - A game of poker. I won a big pot.

Three more minutes, I'd have assumed you were compromised.

Well, I'm not.

I've been here two weeks, Curtis has said half a dozen words to me.

- You push me in front of him, OK? - There's movement.

Curtis is reassembling his old team. The crew from Desert Storm.

Sergeant-Major Baker's not the only one.

Two more men are shipping in tomorrow, Wallace and Parks.

- So? - Men forge the strongest bonds in battle.

Curtis trusts them.

He can't run an industrial action solo -

he needs men beneath him, spread it through the ranks.

Curtis is moving his pieces into place.

- How many officers are up for it? - 19.

- Budget? - 125.

125 quid? We can't afford something like this on... 6.50 an officer.

6.57, actually.

- What about time, date and location? - 1900 hours, 21st.

- Budget means we'll have to do it at home. - What's the transport like that night?

- No tube strikes, if that's what you mean. - Good.

- And we're sure Harry suspects nothing? - Nothing.

We're not trying to enter Baghdad, it's just a bloody birthday party!

Shh!

Right, OK...

He's bang on time every night. Watch.

- That is so cool. - And yet so simple.

Tom's phone allows him to sweep for bugs, then prerecord a message.

It's digitally compressed, scrambled and transmitted in 0.1 seconds.

- Almost impossible to intercept. - (Harry) Thank you, Malcolm.

Eagle One has two ex-colleagues from Desert Storm coming tomorrow.

Request confirmation and any relevant background.

- Meeting at blue location, 1100 hours. - What's the coefficient?

Minus six. He wants to meet at 5am.

Is it just me, or does he sound hacked off?

I wouldn't say this is his dream assignment.

You're lucky it's only section heads who have to train with the regiment.

- I could cope. - You in the Army?

They don't do designer khaki, mate.

You go. Try and cheer him up a bit.

I've got some background on the five men Curtis led in and out of Iraq.

Sergeant-Major Baker. Sergeant Wallace and Corporal Parks

- are joining Curtis tomorrow. - Could you make prints for Tom?

OK.

The other two have left the Army - William Scobey,

last seen in a homeless hostel 18 months ago -

and Derek Hanson, lives on a north London council estate.

Might be worth a look.

Good.

Right, well, time for three hours' sleep before I go.

I don't trust Woods.

- What's Harry saying? - Stick with it.

Of course he does.

Correspondence from the Chief Of Defence Staff's office.

Curtis has written 86 letters over a five-year period -

suggestions, complaints and sarcasm directed at the military brass.

He has issues with everything from pensions to personal kit.

He argues a good case.

- He's right about the SA80 rifle. - Harry's adamant.

- A strike could affect all the Armed Forces. - Catastrophic, I know.

- I reckon 48 hours. - What do you want me to say to Harry?

That I'm getting closer to Curtis... and that I said hello.

Overnight intel.

I haven't done yesterday's, Ruth! Don't you have top-sheet summaries?

- Just cherry-pick. - That's your job!

- Not for much longer. - What?

- How was Tom? - Oh, grumpy.

He'll survive.

- What do you mean? - Look. Of all government ministers,

I'd never have thought him a leather queen.

- No wonder he can't sort out the unions. - Ruth!

Close-quarter battle, escape and evasion, resisting interrogation -

we will be practising the basic drills until we can do them at night,

under fire and on our chin-straps.

- Distribute the equipment, Sergeant-Major. - Sir.

Today, you're going in that building and we're going to pump tear gas in.

By the end of the day, I want you in your respirators

within nine seconds of a gas alert.

If you don't, you'll end up in tears

because Sergeant-Major Baker will stick his toe so far up your arse,

you'll be able to chew his toenails for him.

War is shit.

Anyone who tells you otherwise has never been in one.

You train hard, you fight easy.

You train easy, you fight hard...