Spooks

We could... go for another coffee, out of here.

I don't think so.

I should make it easy on myself like you.

- I thought you were gunning for Sam. - Gunning for her?

What do you know that I don't?

Lots of things.

Come on.

Billy, Kyle. Back room.

I'll take front. You're upstairs. When I say we're done, we're done. Understand?

- Sweet, man. - I want out in two minutes.

'What a brave man you are. Pop it all out... '

50 seconds.

JJ, come on, mate.

JJ!

JJ, get out, man.

- 'What on earth are you doing there... ' - (Horns blast frantically)

Come on! Get a move on! Get out!

- Shit, he's back. Get in the van. - What?

- Do it, man. - Oh, shit.

D, come in, man. D, he's back.

JJ, I told you to get out. Don't you do that.

Shit! Oh, Shit!

Shit! Where are they going?

Sort out the window. Sort out the window!

Come on!

Come on. Come on!

- He's not answering. - Keep trying.

- Shall I...? - Go for it.

Everyone, Harry's stuck in traffic. Let's play catch-up.

3am this morning, Ml6 officers woke up Harry requiring an urgent meet. Here's why.

What's the first thing you notice?

- This is a test, right? A trick question? - That it didn't go off.

Yes. The missile punches through concrete, once in the building, it detonates

emitting a pulse, destroying all electronic components.

EMP. Kills technology, not people.

- No live images of mass civilian slaughter. - Just dead computers.

If you need public support for a war, it's the weapon.

It's sparked a new arms race. Led by this man. Henri Durand.

French military scientist with an ego the size of the Eiffel Tower.

In the '80s, he was linked to the development of arms

that were peddled to the Argentinians.

Ml6 have been monitoring him ever since.

A few months ago, Durand and his ego resigned from the French military.

They took the technology with them.

Durand's used EMP technology to create a new program with private backing.

He's made an airburst missile, detonates at a thousand feet,

sending out an EMP wave over a square mile.

- They could bring London to its knees. - Game over.

He's called this new program Firestorm.

The backer's name is Frank Hastings.

- Middleweight arms dealer. - We ran an op on him before?

Ml6 has monitored him.

Hastings met Durand and lured him from the French government

on the promise he'll sell Firestorm.

We have to procure the program before it's sold.

- You mean steal it? - (Zoe) From the French?

Yeah.

British ownership is the best defence. Cold War rhetoric, I know.

Well, if that isn't illegal... it's very, very naughty.

The sale of Firestorm could raise enough to buy three small countries

with enough change to save the NHS.

But there's only one copy and it can only be accessed via Durand's laptop

and it's always handcuffed to his wrist or locked up in a safe.

- Where is he now? - Ml6 tracked him here.

Hastings Defence Solutions. Intelligence says Firestorm will be sold within 48 hours.

- Who's buying? - It's tricky.

We're scanning the usual suspects, Iran, Syria, Libya.

Checking embassies for hidden guests.

Oh, and we mustn't get caught.

It's a diplomatic tinderbox. Nothing we do can connect us to Firestorm.

- We set someone up? - We task an agent who's deniable.

Someone who's never worked for any Government agency.

A cleanskin.

And we have to do it with the French watching.

The DGSE know Durand is here. They're sending an operative over.

- Jean-Luc Goyon from the DGSE. - Wow!

'An expert in surveillance techniques and ex-special forces.'

- (Phone) - (Sam) 'Hello? Yeah, thank you.'

Jean-Luc's in the lobby, by the way.

- Keep him down there as long as you can. - Keep him down where?

Sorry.

I didn't think working with the French was our thing.

- I think it's a really, really good idea. - I saw him first.

- I outrank you. - Bitch.

- Actually, Danny, he'll be with you. - What? I don't want him.

I'll stick him on static obs with an ashtray and a pot of coffee.

Jean-Luc can't get wind of us running a secret operation.

Hey, D, maybe it's full of bling bling.

Whatever it is, it ain't meant for the likes of us.

Shit.

- Oi, Moby Dickhead. - Leave me alone.

- Show me the magic, bro. - Ain't in the mood, Kyle.

For me. Here, this page.

Man, you're a freak. You need to be locked up, bro.

It's easy. Like a photo. Just see it once.

Don't even have to know what it means.

- D's right, man. I messed up. - How?

He told me to leave but I saw that case.

If you want something, take it. No one's gonna give it to you.

- Maybe it's full of cash. - Exactly.

And who made that happen?

Look, I ain't good at much, yeah.

I don't know the things that you know but I do know this...

no one's coming to get us, know what I mean?

What you sayin', Kyle?

D's holding you back, keeping you here.

You shouldn't be saying that shit to me. D's looking out for me.

I ain't never gonna get out of this place but you got something special.

- You can get out of here. - What did you say, bro?

- Nothing. We was just rappin'. - Don't listen to this fool, bro.

Look at his rags. You see any bling? No.

Who's wearing the cloth? Who's wearing the bling?

You are, D.

That's right. So go open that case for me.

Don't you ever say shit to my brother again.

Ever.

Firestorm's like a jigsaw. It's encrypted on the web.

The only way to decipher it is with codes that have to be input on Durand's laptop.

- Ml6 have tried to access the laptop before. - And failed.

But they discovered the access codes via surveillance.

- Where are they? - In Harry's briefcase.

I have a state-of-the-art alarm system.

A random burglar wouldn't know where to start.

I found traces of blood. They're being analysed now.

You have to tell them.

Six will have copies of the codes and we need them.

Harry, it's our duty as much as yours to report this.

I know.

But I would ask for a few hours while I try and save my career.

I'll be in my office.

Rule number one. Never, ever take your work home with you.

Rule number two is to report any officer that does, especially when he loses it.

- We could all be implicated. - Harry wouldn't be alone in losing his job.

No. I realise the implications of this but he asked for a few hours.

You think he'd do the same for us?

Our concern should be losing momentum and any chance of procuring Firestorm,

- which'll be bad for our careers. - Sorry...

The Frenchman wants eyes on Durand. See he gets what he needs.

We run this op as normal. Keep him out of this building for as long as possible.

You two, get a cleanskin into that building.

- I didn't sign up for this. - You did. I read the paperwork.

Worthless. Like you!

See what happens when you don't listen?

I nearly shot some posh geezer for this!

- What is it, D? - Shut up!

Stop that Uri Geller shit.

So, what we gonna do with it?

Burn it. Burn it in the bath.

Durand was our top weapons development scientist.

Leaving at such a crucial time raised suspicions.

Anything Durand was working on is the property of the French Government.

We appreciate your help very much.

- How long will Durand be here? - 48 hours.

We simply require some low-level observation

and, of course, the phone taps we requested.

I'm reliably informed we'll have those by midday.

I don't think you understand.

Durand thinks he's safe here.

If he has stolen technology from France, this is where he'll probably sell it.

This is why we requested phone taps in advance.

Yes, but there are certain procedures we have to follow.

Danny is head of surveillance. He's at your disposal.

Attention, c'est très chaud.

Durand has gone to Hastings' offices.

- A surveillance unit is en route. - OK.

Sam, merci.

C'est un plaisir.

On y va?

Any more ex-cons? I've run out of candidates.

No.

If we find somebody suitable, what about training them?

We'll tackle that when we've got our cleanskin.

All this is pointless unless we find the stolen codes, the ones that you had.

If we run this agent clean, it means no paper, no proof.

- I know that. - That's a lot of numbers to remember.

In the field, under stress, could you do that?

I want a list of agents within the hour.

- Why did you take the case home? - It was 3am and I was closer to the house.

One of them will report it. It's their jobs on the line, too.

All of our jobs are on the line.

If our agent is caught, this government will hang us all out to dry.

What else was in the case, Harry?

This was amongst other samples of Hastings' products.

Ml6 wanted it in the Durand file.

With any luck, they'll try and make a call with it.

- (Phone) - Yeah.

Excellent. They've matched the blood stain.

"Jason James Franks. 14 years old. Nickname JJ."

Got an address?

Only for his older brother, Denton Franks.

Been in care since he was four.

JJ recently broke his probation order. There's a warrant out for him.

- If he's there, I'll send the plods round. - No. Just get the case back.

You're in big shit. This wouldn't be happening if you'd just left that case.

- Leave it out. - I'm serious. You gonna get a beating, J.

Hey, this works.

- Shit! - What the hell was that?

- Help me, man! What you done, JJ, man? - Call an ambulance!

No! We'll all be in shit. You can walk in.

- What you doing? - Look at him!