Alicia: [in bed, hung-over] I'm no stool-pigeon, Mr. Devlin.
Devlin: My department authorized me to engage you to do some work for us. There's a job in Brazil...
Alicia: Oh, go away. The whole thing bores me.
Devlin: Some of the German gentry who are paying your father are working in Rio. Ever hear of the IG Farben Industries?
Alicia: I tell you, I'm not interested.
Devlin: Farben has men in South America, planted there before the war. They're cooperating with the Brazilian government to smoke them out. My chief thinks that the daughter of a, uh...
Alicia: A traitor?
Devlin: Well, he thinks you might be valuable in the work.