London Spy: The Complete Scripts
Page 6
Danny looks at his brilliant friend. And for the first time doesn’t quite trust him.
DANNY
Of course not.
Scottie holds the look, wondering.
SCOTTIE
No. Of course not.
Scottie gets into the cab and shuts the door.
Danny waits, watching him go. Scottie looks at him through the window at the cab pulls off.
Once the cab is gone Danny turns to look at the street. At the cars parked. At the windows overlooking him. At the strangers passing. At the traffic.
And then, in the distance, over the railway - MI6 headquarters. Looming in the skyline.
Danny stares, as if seeing it for the first time.
INT. DANNY’S APARTMENT. FRONT DOOR. DAWN
Danny stands in front of the door to his apartment. His finger on the scars from the break-in.
INT. DANNY’S APARTMENT. BEDROOM. DAWN
Danny looks at the room with new eyes. The smashed drawers. The ripped mattress.
INT. DANNY’S APARTMENT. BATHROOM. DAWN
Danny sits on the window ledge - looking out.
We see the view --
EXT. DANNY’S APARTMENT BUILDING. COURTYARD. DAWN
The window of the apartment where the old man used to live. The shutters are down.
INT. DANNY’S APARTMENT. BATHROOM. DAWN
Danny begins checking the bathroom. Every inch. For recording devices. Meticulous & thorough.
He takes the mirror off. Runs a bath.
INT. DANNY’S APARTMENT. BATHROOM. DAWN
Danny plugs the radio in. Turns it to the news.
INT. DANNY’S APARTMENT. BATHROOM. MORNING
The radio continues to sound out loudly.
Danny is standing over the toilet. He’s wearing a rubber glove on his right hand.
He gets onto his knees and inserts his hand into the toilet, fishing something out.
INT. DANNY’S APARTMENT. BATHROOM. MORNING
Danny is scrubbing the small metallic cylinder. There’s a knock on the door. He jumps. He’s jittery.
SARA (V.O.)
Danny?
DANNY
I’m almost done.
Danny raises the wrapped cylinder to eye level.
He cuts the edge of the plastic with nail scissors and begins to unwind it.
Slowly revealing --
END OF EPISODE
EPISODE TWO:
“STRANGERS”
INT. DANNY’S APARTMENT. BEDROOM. NIGHT
Danny staring at his closed fist. Bloodshot eyes contemplate the object hidden within his palm.
INT. DANNY’S APARTMENT. NIGHT
Danny peering into every room, checking that he’s alone. Fist tight by his side.
Checks complete, he secures the front door.
INT. DANNY’S APARTMENT. BATHROOM. NIGHT
Danny furtively glances out of the window --
EXT. DANNY’S APARTMENT BUILDING. COURTYARD. NIGHT
The apartment with the closed shutters.
INT. DANNY’S APARTMENT. KITCHEN. NIGHT
Danny closes the blinds. Lights the gas. Boils water. An arbitrary manufacturing of kitchen noise.
He takes a tatty white table cloth and spreads it over the table so that it hangs down to the floor. Done, he turns the kitchen lights off.
Finally he sits under the table, on the bubbled linoleum floor, like a child sheltering from angry parents. He lights the squat stub of a candle.
Only once protected, within the soft glow of this space, does he feel secure enough to reveal --
The item he swallowed: a titanium cylinder with a row of seven numbered rotating dials. Slender. Impregnable.
INT. DANNY’S APARTMENT. KITCHEN. NIGHT
Danny unbuttons his shirt, picks up a roll of duct tape and fixes the cylinder snug against his sternum.
EXT. DANNY’S APARTMENT BUILDING. NIGHT
Danny exits the building wearing anonymous colors - a hooded top. Skittish, he scrutinizes passers-by, the windows overlooking the street & parked cars.
EXT. VAUXHALL UNDERPASS. NIGHT
A line of traffic held at a red light. Danny uses the side mirrors of stationary cars to check who’s behind him. Various, including a man.
Danny turns to the underground station.
INT. UNDERGROUND STATION. ESCALATOR. NIGHT
Danny on the escalator. He looks back at the people behind. The man from the underpass tunnel.
Danny sidesteps out of line and descends at pace. At the bottom he glances back to see the tunnel man has also stepped out of the line, also descending.
INT. UNDERGROUND STATION. PLATFORM. NIGHT
Danny walks down the platform, almost all the way, then abruptly turns, walking back up the platform --
The tunnel man is coming straight towards him. Their eyes meet. The train rushes into the station. Danny and the man pass. People surge to the edge.
Danny and the tunnel man board adjacent carriages.
INT. UNDERGROUND CARRIAGE. NIGHT
Danny looks through the window to the adjacent carriage. He sees the tunnel man, standing sideways to him.
Danny studies the other passengers. An older handsome Asian man in an expensive suit.
A woman seated nearby, reading one of the free London newspapers. Front Page headed - “Spy Sex Attic”.
Danny peers over her shoulder to see a tabloid-style article. A photograph of the gas mask outfit. Juxtaposed with a photograph of Alex.
INT. UNDERGROUND STATION. PLATFORM. NIGHT
Danny steps onto the platform amidst the crowd. In the reflection of a glossy advertisement he glimpses the tunnel man only a few paces behind.
Danny weaves through the crowd but as the doors to the tube begin to close Danny sharply alters course and runs back towards the carriage.
INT. UNDERGROUND CARRIAGE / PLATFORM. NIGHT
Danny lurches inside. Doors shut. Breathless, he peers out at the tunnel man on the platform. But the man is seemingly unperturbed by Danny’s departure.
As the train disappears into the darkness Danny notices the woman, previously seated and reading the paper is now standing and reading. An odd change.
And behind her, the older handsome Asian man in the sharp suit regards Danny with cool detachment.
EXT. EAST LONDON TUBE STATION & STREET. NIGHT
Danny exits into a rough area. He walks with certainty and purpose - this area is evidently known to him.
A row of pawnbrokers, loan shops, pound stores. Danny heads towards a busy fast-food restaurant.
INT. FAST FOOD JOINT RESTAURANT. NIGHT
Crowded. Dirty. Cheap.
Danny goes straight through to the back - the toilets.
INT. FAST FOOD JOINT RESTAURANT. TOILET. NIGHT
Danny takes off his hooded top, reversing it, now a different color. He puts on a hat. Then climbs through the small back window, dropping down onto --
EXT. EAST LONDON SIDE STREET. NIGHT
A dark side street. No cameras. Danny swings towards the shadows away from the main road.
EXT. EAST LONDON SCRUBLAND. NIGHT
Danny climbs over a fence and into scrubland. Abandoned washing machines. Burnt mattresses. He arrives at --
The skeleton of a former factory. Late 19th century. A dramatic ruin, towering into the night sky.
From the shadows, Danny surveys the approach - no one following. Once he’s sure, he enters the ruins.
INT. DERELICT INDUSTRIAL WAREHOUSE. NIGHT
Danny passes a wall covered in graffiti, pausing, locating his own name, amateurishly painted. No nostalgia: a touch of sadness and regret.
INT. DERELICT INDUSTRIAL WAREHOUSE. MACHINE ROOM. NIGHT
Danny nimbly clambers up the shell of a long-dead furnace towards the ceiling. Up high, rusted pipes crisscross in all directions.
Danny finds a section of the pipe and removes the bolts. It comes free. Inside is a teenage hiding place.
Soft drug paraphe
rnalia. Faded gay porn & poppers.
And a diary wrapped in plastic. Danny flicks through. Sketches. Lyrics. Aimless teenage creativity.
Danny checks he’s alone. From under his shirt he removes the cylinder. He finds it hard to let go.
Finally Danny hides it inside the spine of the diary, wraps it in plastic, secretes it away.
He puts the pipe back. Secures the bolts.
To the naked eye there are no clues as to where it might be. Just a labyrinth of pipes.
EXT. DERELICT INDUSTRIAL WAREHOUSE. ROOFTOP. NIGHT
On the rooftop, like a feral cat, Danny perches on the edge guarding his secret. All around poverty.
And in the distance the twinkling lights of the city.
INT. DANNY’S APARTMENT. BEDROOM. DAY
Danny standing close to the mirror about to knot his tie. He’s wearing a smartly ironed shirt.
He attempts a knot. It’s too small. It looks awful. With some irritation he unties it. Too much irritation, he’s brittle emotionally. A great deal at stake in his appearance.
And he’s about to try again. When he stops, pausing...
FLASH BACK TO:
INT. DANNY’S APARTMENT. BEDROOM. DAY (PAST)
Danny & Alex getting ready to go out. A smart event, something celebratory. They’re both in good moods.
Alex is immaculately dressed. Shirt, tie, jacket. Danny struggling with his tie. Alex steps close to him --
But Alex waits a beat in case Danny is offended by the notion of being helped.
Danny, however, gladly allows Alex to tie the knot.
Which Alex does. The movements are assured. Precise. Alex glancing from the knot to Danny. From the knot to Danny.
Finished, Alex neatens it. His fingers linger on Danny’s shirt collar. Careful. Meticulous. The moment is intimate.
BACK TO:
INT. DANNY’S APARTMENT. BEDROOM. DAY (PRESENT)
Danny caught by a wave of emotion. Upset, with tears in his eyes he ties his own knot, capturing some of Alex’s rhythm. Precise. Meticulous.
Danny ties it well. He neatens the knot, alone.
Finished, Danny’s eyes move to the side of the mirror --
Now see that the wall is covered with pages from various newspapers. Tabloid & Broadsheet.
The pages are all about Alex’s death. Without exception every paper claims it was a sex game gone wrong.
All the pages are carefully annotated by Danny. In red ink. Underlined. By the headlines and by individual points:
THIS IS A LIE.
A LIE.
THIS IS A LIE.
Danny’s eye move over all the pages. Finished, his eyes return to his reflection.
DANNY (TO HIMSELF)
(practising)
Your newspaper has printed a series of lies...
(too negative)
Your newspaper needs to print the truth about...
(too baggy)
Your newspaper needs to know the truth...
(wrong again)
The public need to know the truth.
(too saintly)
I’m here - today - to tell you the truth.
(too soft)
I’m here to tell you the truth.
(more blunt)
I’m here to tell you the truth.
(he likes it)
I’m here to tell you the truth.
(faster)
I’m here to tell you the truth.
(final)
I’m here to tell you the truth.
We can bleed these final attempts over Danny’s entrance into the newspaper office.
Building and building, a crescendo, faster and faster, more and more determined, more and more absolute.
Convincing. Powerful. Angry.
Who couldn’t believe him?
What couldn’t go wrong?
EXT. NEWSPAPER OFFICE. DAY
Danny wearing a shirt, not a suit, as formal as he can manage. Tie knotted so-so.
Danny stands outside a glass and steel office. The new industrial heartland of London.
INT. NEWSPAPER OFFICE. LOBBY. DAY
An impressive atrium. Busy with journalists.
Danny waits, observing office life - the security fob, chic shoes, strong coffees and smart phones.
He glances up, at the many windows, and spies a man in a suit, high up, staring down at him.
An assistant arrives and makes a snap evaluation of Danny: her eyes flick upfrom his shoes to his hair.
INT. NEWSPAPER OFFICE. ELEVATOR. DAY
Danny and assistant in the elevator.
Jarring silence.
INT. NEWSPAPER OFFICES. CONFERENCE ROOM. DAY
Danny seated on one side of a vast glossy table.
On the other side: a woman in her fifties - a senior news editor. Dressed sharp. Stern. Cross-trainer thin.
A woman in her late twenties - a journalist. Around Danny’s age, dressed less angularly.
A sturdy old-fashioned lawyer. Tortoiseshell glasses.
A recording device in the centre of the table.
EDITOR
In your phone call you asked --
(from transcript)
“How it all works?”. We took that as negotiating payment.
Danny’s taken aback.
DANNY
No. I’ve never spoken to a journalist before...
(no one believes him)
I don’t want any money.
The lawyer whispers to the editor. She nods.
EDITOR
You used the word “partners” to describe your relationship?
DANNY
We were partners.
EDITOR
What do you mean by that?
He struggles and stumbles.
DANNY
I mean...
Against a wall of scepticism, Danny rallies.
DANNY (CONT’D)
I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him.
He’s never articulated that before. It catches him emotionally. But cuts no ice with his audience.
EDITOR
You’d been together eight months.
DANNY
Yes.
EDITOR
During those eight months how many times had you visited the attic?
DANNY
I’d never visited the attic.
(correcting)
Except when I discovered...
(beat)
That was the first time.
EDITOR
But you must have known about it?
DANNY
No.
EDITOR
The activities that went on up there?
DANNY
That’s what I’m trying to say. I don’t know if anything went on. I never saw him use those items. I never heard him talk about them.
EDITOR
You were his sexual partner. For eight months. He never mentioned sadism? Never asked you to participate? Never discussed his predilections? You know nothing. That’s what you’ve come here today to tell us?
DANNY
I’ve come here to tell you...
Danny’s eye turns to the swirling grey sky over London.
FLASH TO:
EXT. COUNTRYSIDE. ESTUARY. DAY (PAST)
Danny and Alex’s first walk together at this melancholy and magic landscape. The water laps about their feet.
Danny looking at Alex. And Alex turns to look at him.
BACK TO:
INT. NEWSPAPER OFFICES. CONFERENCE ROOM. DAY (PRESENT)
The newspaper team waiting for Danny to answer.
Danny, lost in the memory, we’re not sure how he’ll react. Frustration is replaced by grief.
DANNY
Why won’t you ask what I think happened to him?
EDITOR
What do you think happened to him?
DANNY
He was murdered.
EDITOR
Who murdered him?
DANNY
I d
on’t know.
EDITOR
Why did they murder him?
DANNY
I don’t know.
Silence.
The lawyer cleans his spectacles.
EXT. NEWSPAPER OFFICES. DAY
Danny exits the building, removing his tie.
Away from the immediate proximity of the offices he’s surprised by the younger journalist. She must have used a different exit. She seems nervous.
JOURNALIST
Not here.
INT. CASUAL RESTAURANT. DAY
The restaurant is casual and scruffy. Danny and the journalist in a corner. No recording device.
JOURNALIST
My brother was an addict. Cocaine, for seven years, and I didn’t know. Until he was in hospital, telling me he used to do it on Christmas Day --
Danny shakes his head.
JOURNALIST (CONT’D)
How can you be sure?
DANNY
I’ve done drugs. And if you’ve done them you can tell.
JOURNALIST
People lie, Danny. And they lie well.
DANNY
Guys who own rooms like that attic, when it comes to sex they know what they want. How they want it. The sex is professional. He didn’t know what he enjoyed. He’d never found out.
JOURNALIST
You don’t use his name? Is it true you didn’t even know it?
DANNY
He told me his name was Alex.
JOURNALIST
I get it. He’s a spy. He needed to be careful. You met by chance. First date he lied. But eight months later, you want to spend the rest of your life together, but you’re still using the wrong name to say how much you love him?
The pain of the lie is raw. Danny doesn’t understand it.
DANNY
I can’t explain.
JOURNALIST
Did he tell you he was in danger?
DANNY
No.
JOURNALIST
Are you afraid?
The idea takes Danny by surprise.
EXT. CASUAL RESTAURANT. DAY
Outside the entrance a neon sign flashes the name of the diner. Danny shakes the journalist’s hand.