The Bletchley Circle: San Francisco 1×7
Iris: Uh, g-gentlemen, we've devised a mechanism that brings efficient encryption to business communications, international communiqués, and a growing number of wealthy men who want private conveyances. Now, as long-distance wire communication grows, so too does the need for privacy.
Deborah Mitchell: Well, at least this new Vietnam business is short-term.
Dennis: Or so they say...
Alan Mitchell: Oh, it's true. They'll be done training the Southern forces and back home in a month.
Deborah Mitchell: Now, from what I've heard, the Big Bop's an integrated club?... Well, then... I look forward to paying a visit.
Iliya Sokolov: What savage Cossack pollute vodka with ice?
Hailey: What yahoo turns up his nose at free drinks?
Det. Bryce: The Soviet Consul General died last night.
Millie: Why else do you think I'm here?
Det. Bryce: I'd hoped otherwise.
Millie: Come now, Bill. I'm gonna need a little tit for my tat.
Det. Bryce: Like what?
Millie: Like a trip to the morgue?
Det. Bryce: Such a romantic.
Millie: Vy ne mozhete izbezhat' sud'by. As the Russians say... "you cannot escape your fate."
Jean: Oh, you know me. I was always one for puzzles, riddles...
Nigel Beemisch: International calamities?...
Nigel Beemisch: I look at those digits, and all I can see is a telephone number.
Jean: Well, I look at telephone numbers, and all I see are cryptic ciphers.
Jean: Who's even to say it was a cipher?
Mr. Zuyev: Well, as no doubt you've learned, that, uh, everything is code for something else.
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