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Семнадцать мгновений весны

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see it.
- Did you?
Yes.
- What kind of a car?
- A big car.
- A truck?
- No, a green sedan.
- You don't remember the number?
- I didn't pay attention.
I smell a rat here.
Search everything around.
I smell a rat here.
- There're only ruins around.
- Search the ruins!
Though actually...
everything's so stupid and
unprofessional
that it's just impossible to work.
You can't figure out
the logic of an unprofessional.
Maybe he's a shrewd unprofessional?
A shrewd unprofessional wouldn't
have gone to the orphanage.
A shrewd unprofessional wouldn't
have gone to the orphanage!
Damn it!
It's nothing doing.
We've combed 20 basements,
with no result.
Come on, stop grumbling.
Listen, that guy...
Damn it, be careful!
That SS guy,
was he taken down with one gun,
or they shot him from two hands?
I called the lab,
the results aren't ready yet.
And they say the Gestapo
does everything in a minute.
Liars.
Quiet.
Quiet, quiet.
Quiet.
Quiet.
What's this?
A footprint or not?
There's not enough dust.
If it were in summer...
If it were in summer,
if we had a Doberman pinscher,
if the Doberman had a glove of
the woman who escaped from the SS,
if he had picked up the scent...
And what's this?
A cigarette stub?
It's old, just like rock.
Feel it.
In our business one should first
feel it.
Thank God
that Gunther was unmarried.
If they told my Maria
that I was dead cold,
lying down on the morgue's floor...
Take one.
There were two exits there, both are
blocked up.
- With what?
- With bricks.
Was there a lot of dust?
Only broken stones there, like here.
How can be any dust on them?
So, no traces?
What traces can there be on broken
stone?
Let's look some more.
Wait, I'll light up.
Damn, the matches are damp.
Damn it!
- I got a lighter.
- Thanks.
Mine got the flint worn down.
A piece got stuck under the wheel,
I can't pick it out.
You should give it to the repairman.
I couldn't find one. In all Berlin
not a single repair-shop.
All the skilled workers are at the front.
Thanks, pal, you've helped me out.
We should look all over
before dark,
so that our conscience didn't pick us.
Oh, God...
Will they ever leave?
03.16.1945
(17 hours 10 minutes)
Something happened?
I began to feel nervous.
And you were right.
I felt nervous, too.
I remembered it.
What did you remember?
Why the Russian's suitcase
may have my fingerprints.
Where's she, by the way?
I thought you were going to arrange
for a date, a confrontation between us.
She's in the hospital, they'll bring
her soon.
What's wrong with her?
Nothing wrong.
To make her talk, Rolf
overdid it with the child.
All right, we still have time.
Why still?
We just have time.
We still have time.
If you're really interested in
that muddle with the suitcase,
I remember it now.
It cost me
a few new gray hairs,
but the truth will always triumph,
I'm convinced of that.
What a happy coincidence in our
convictions. Shoot your facts.
For this you'll have to
call here all the policemen
who stood guard at the cordoned
zone on Bayertestrasse.
I stopped there
and they didn't let me through even
after I showed them my SD ID.
Then I made a detour
through Koepinegstrasse,
passing by the barracks which, as you
know, had been turned the day before
yesterday into a pile of ruins.
Around it.
There I was stopped too,
and I found myself in a traffic jam.
I went to see what happened,
and the policemen - one was a young,
apparently seriously ill boy,
a consumptive, I think,
and his mate, whom I don't remember
well, his face was covered with soot, -
they wouldn't let me go to
the phone in order to call here
and warn that I was being late.
I showed them my ID
and went to the telephone.
I remember a woman standing there...
with children, and I...
helped her to carry
a pram out of the ruins.
Then I carried over some
things and some suitcases.
In any case,
in the last half-year
I haven't touched any
Семнадцать мгновений весны Семнадцать мгновений весны

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