your men in foul places,
better go to the <>.
To the <>? Thank you.
It was Mueller's tricky place.
The counter-espionage operated there.
Stirlitz knew about it from Schellenberg.
There was a special instruction,
forbidding party members
and the military to go there.
That's why naive braggers
thought they were absolutely safe there,
unaware that every table
was tapped by the Gestapo.
Okay, thank you then.
If you sanction it,
I'm going to have meetings
in the <> then.
But if I am cornered,
I'll come to you for help.
Welcome. I'll be always glad
to see you. Hail Hitler.
Stirlitz didn't believe Mueller.
Anyway, in the evening,
going on some important business,
he called for an office car.
Werner- to Mueller.
Top secret.
Available in one copy.
Today at 19:42 the subject called
for an office car,
Wanderer 956183.
The subject asked the driver to drop him
at the <> station.
There he got out of the car.
The attempt to track down
the subject at other stations
yielded no result.
Werner.
Never thought
I'd be missing you.
I don't know what's your occupation,
I only know that you were
my late brother's friend.
But I have always enjoyed
your company, Mister Stirlitz.
Thank you.
This way.
- Are you freezing here?
- Right. Freezing to death.
But what can be done? Who isn't
freezing now, I wonder.
Hitler's bunker
is heated up very well.
That's for sure.
The Fuhrer must live in warmth.
How is it possible to compare our
concerns to his concerns and worries?
Who are we?
We are just we, everyone for himself.
But he must care about all the Germans.
Come on, Professor.
The crazy maniac pushed
millions of people under bombs,
and he himself stays, like a coward,
in a hideout
watching movies
together with his thugs.
Do you agree?
So, here we are.
Your brother and my friend
was an antifascist,
a member of the underground
organization.
For many years he
headed the Resistance group.
He helped me.
You never asked me
about my occupation.
I'm an SS Standartenfuhrer
and I'm in military intelligence, too.
No, no, and again no.
My brother couldn't be
a provocateur, I don't believe you.
He had never been it, but as for me,
I'm really in military intelligence.
In the Soviet military intelligence.
Do you remember your
brother's handwriting well?
Sure.
This is your brother's
death-letter to me.
My dear friend.
Thank you for everything.
I've learned a lot from you.
I've learned how to love
and how in the name of this love
to hate all those who are bringing
slavery to the people of Germany.
Pleischner.
He wrote in this manner,
fearing the Gestapo.
But, as you understand, slavery is
being brought to German people
by hordes of Bolsheviks and
by armadas of Americans, isn't it so?
Or, probably,
it's Hitler who brought slavery to you?
And the Nazis?
Stirlitz regretted
he had said all this,
and regretted he'd come to
the poor man with his business.
<>
he thought.
<>
Which means it's his business. Too.
<>
I understand.
Now I understand it all.
You can fully
rely on me.
But I was in a concentration camp.
I must warn you,
as soon as they hit me
in my ribs with a whip,
I may break.
I know.
What did you feel
when I told you about myself?
Relief, big relief.
Then we'll do the job.
And do it very well.
What am I supposed to do?
Nothing. Just live on.
And any minute be ready
to do what's required of you...
For whom?
- For Germany,
- For whom?
I mean Germany, not the Reich.
You must agree, there's a world of
difference between these two notions.
Absolutely.
Italy. Emergency
military airport <>.
If they shoot you down,
in war everything is possible,
you are to burn
this letter before you
unbuckle
the parachute straps.
I won't be able to burn the letter before
I unbuckle the parachute