London Spy: The Complete Scripts
Page 14
FLASH TO:
INT. HOUSING ESTATE. BLUE ROOM. DAY (PAST)
The blue room.
The bedsheets have been stripped so the bed is now white. The carpet has been unevenly scratched clean of most of the blue paint. The room emptied.
All that remains is the blue brain burst - the pyramid of mania-blue across the back wall and ceiling.
Cracked. Fracturing. A single autumnal blue flake falls.
BACK TO:
INT. SCOTTIE’S HOUSE. LIVING ROOM. EVENING (PRESENT)
Scottie stands before Danny & gestures for him to rise.
Danny stands.
Face to face with Scottie.
Scottie kisses Danny’s lips. Not sexual. Platonic love. An acceptance of Danny’s body. A healing act.
SCOTTIE
It is impossible. We will lose. But we will fight.
INT. LONDON BATHS. SWIMMING POOL. DAY
Underwater. All is blue.
At the bottom of a beautiful public tiled swimming pool. The noise of the world is muted.
Danny and Scottie are swimming at the deepest point - side by side. The two friends. Together.
The world has slowed.
Scottie turns upwards and surfaces.
But Danny remains a moment longer. He can’t face returning to the surface. He can’t face returning to the world.
Not yet.
He grips onto the bottom of the pool, the draining grill, or whatever, looking down.
Still sad.
He doesn’t want to go up.
And then he turns to see --
A young girl swimming along the bottom of the pool. She’s only seven or eight years old.
She’s wearing a comically huge snorkel as if she were deep sea fishing. It makes her eyes bulbous.
She’s wearing a bright glittering swimming costume, sparkling, decorated with wonderful silvery sea creatures.
She shimmers in the water. Her long beautiful hair flows around her head like silk.
She sees Danny.
And waves at him.
Danny waves back.
And the little girl returns to the surface.
Danny looks up for the first time in this sequence.
We see the surface packed with people.
And now, finally, Danny kicks up.
And we follow him up. And up. And up...
And he breaks the surface.
INT. LONDON BATHS. SWIMMING POOL. SURFACE. DAY
Danny on the surface.
He looks around. At all these people.
There’s the muscular fitness fanatic.
There’s an overweight individual.
There’s a family.
There’s an elderly man.
There’s an elderly woman.
There’s an eccentric woman.
There’s a man with a missing limb.
There’s a young straight couple kissing.
There are children playing.
Danny searches for the little girl with the snorkel but she’s nowhere to be seen.
Danny turns to see Scottie.
Scottie is sitting on a bench by the side of the pool, wrapped in towels. Patiently waiting for him.
Danny swims towards him.
INT. LONDON BATHS. SWIMMING POOL. BENCH / LEDGE. DAY
Danny gets out and sits beside Scottie, both wrapped in towels, looking out over this pool.
It’s busy with every kind of person from every walk of life, from places all over the world.
Behind Danny and Scottie is a sign that reads:
LONDON BATHS
And the whole of London is represented here. With Danny too.
DANNY
I’m ready.
Scottie nods, observing his friend.
SCOTTIE
Are you going to tell me?
Danny glances at Scottie.
SCOTTIE (CONT’D)
The secret you’ve been keeping.
Danny smiles.
DANNY
How...
He thinks better of the question.
Of course Scottie sensed something.
Danny nods.
Scottie raises a finger to his lips.
SCOTTIE
Not here. Downstairs.
Scottie stands.
Danny follows. They leave the pool
INT. PUBLIC BATHS. STEAM ROOM. DAY
Dense plumes of steam. Thick stone walls drip with condensation. Moody gloominess.
Danny and Scottie are at the back, in the darkest corner. Except for the hiss of vapour - there’s silence.
Danny and Scottie wait for the only other shadowy figure to leave. The man stands, stretches, and walks out.
The door closes. They’re alone.
SCOTTIE
Tell me.
DANNY
I lied.
SCOTTIE
About?
DANNY
I stole something. From the attic.
Scottie’s impressed.
SCOTTIE
You lied well.
DANNY
A locked cylinder.
Danny marks a small line in the condensation.
SCOTTIE
You lied wisely.
DANNY
It needs a code.
SCOTTIE
Which you don’t know?
DANNY
No.
SCOTTIE
Did Alex intend it for you?
DANNY
He told me where to look.
SCOTTIE
Then he must have believed you capable of opening it.
Danny’s exasperated.
DANNY
I’ve gone over every word. Every conversation.
SCOTTIE
Go over them again. Remember he will have been aware you were under surveillance.
(beat)
Danny, you must figure it out. You’re the only one who can.
Danny pulls himself together. He nods, about to speak when a man enters the steam room.
Scottie and Danny abruptly fall silent.
The man misinterprets the awkward silence and presumes Danny and Scottie were fooling about.
The man huffs, in disgust, and leaves, shaking his head.
Scottie and Danny are briefly amused.
The door closes. The conversation continues.
SCOTTIE (CONT’D)
Where is it now? You can’t have kept it in the flat?
Danny shakes his head, about to answer --
SCOTTIE (CONT’D)
You were right to be cautious.
Scottie sounds genuinely afraid.
SCOTTIE (CONT’D)
If they knew that you had this...
(trails off)
They would have behaved quite differently.
Scottie ponders deeply.
SCOTTIE (CONT’D)
Secrets have changed. They used to be typed documents, stashed inside manila files. Pages stamped ‘Confidential’. Rolls of microfilm. Now they’re numbers. Algorithms. The contents of that cylinder will almost certainly be incomprehensible. At least to us. We need an ally. A great mind.
Scottie stands, taking the precaution of wiping away the cylinder marked on the condensation.
INT. PUBLIC BATHS. MALE CHANGING ROOM. DAY
Danny and Scottie wrapped in towels. At the lockers. Scottie hands Danny a suit bag.
Danny’s surprised. He opens it.
A new set of clothes. Smarter. Formal. Expensive. Understated tailoring. Trousers. Shirt. A jacket.
SCOTTIE
Some of the people we need to speak to care very much about appearances. They’ll look at the cut of your suit before they listen to what you say. It’s not about wealth. It’s about a set of signals. They require a lifetime of study, which is precisely the point. Wealth can be acquired in an instant.
Danny stares at the outfit, processing the request.
SCOTTIE (CONT’D)
Tonight we must play by their rules.
INT. PUBLIC BATHS. MALE CHANGING ROOM. DAY
Danny in new attire. A radically different proposition. Fantastically handsome.
Scottie’s impressed. Danny remains circumspect.
DANNY
They fit.
SCOTTIE
What kind of spy would I be if I couldn’t guess a man’s shirt size?
But Scottie’s joke can’t conceal the problematic My-Fair-Lady dressing up of Danny.
EXT. UNIVERSITY OF LONDON. MAIN QUAD. NIGHT
Stone pillars. Columns. The grand dome. History. Prestige. Hugely Impressive.
The quad at night. Spot lit. Dramatic. No one around.
Danny and Scottie walk up the stairs towards the grand main building.
DANNY
Who is she?
SCOTTIE
She’s the President and Provost Professor of the University of London.
DANNY
Can we trust her?
SCOTTIE
There’s no art in trusting nobody. The craft of a spy has always been choosing the right people to trust.
DANNY
You two are friends?
SCOTTIE
Friends... Yes.
Scottie drifts off. Danny waits.
For once Scottie is reluctant to tell his story.
And in the end, says nothing, surprising Danny.
Danny glances back.
People on the street. People in the quad.
INT. UNIVERSITY OF LONDON. MAIN QUAD BUILDING. RECEPTION. NIGHT
While Scottie is talking to the receptionist, Danny hangs back, his attention caught by the poster board, crammed with University society notices --
Travel. Screenings. Debates. Theatre. Politics. Sport.
Curious, he explores the flyers. A new world to him.
SCOTTIE
Danny?
Scottie registers Danny’s interest in this board.
Danny rejoins Scottie.
They pass a Security Guard. The Guard’s eyes follow them further inside.
A cleaner uses a machine to polish the stone floor.
INT. UNIVERSITY OF LONDON. ELEVATOR. NIGHT
Danny and Scottie in the creaky old elevator.
The elevator arrives. Doors open --
INT. UNIVERSITY OF LONDON. MAIN BUILDING. CORRIDORS. NIGHT
Scottie and Danny step out into a deserted corridor. A long line of identical doors.
Their shoes clip on the hard stone floor, echoing around the maze-like space.
As they turn a corner, reaching another long line of doors, Scottie comes to an abrupt stop.
We hear the distinct clip-clip-clip of an unseen person walking somewhere in this maze of corridors.
The footsteps are getting closer.
Suddenly the sound stops.
The clip-clip-clip sound starts again. But the sound is getting softer. Going in the opposite direction.
Troubled, Scottie continues.
INT. UNIVERSITY OF LONDON. MAIN BUILDING. CORRIDOR. NIGHT
Danny stops outside the President’s office. A sign on the grand door.
SCOTTIE
They’ll be aware of my connection to her. They will have anticipated this meeting. Her office will be almost certainly be bugged.
Scottie gestures away from the office.
INT. UNIVERSITY OF LONDON. RARE BOOKS LIBRARY. SECURITY. NIGHT
Scottie and Danny at the entrance to the rare books library. A guard. A librarian. A metal detector. More like entering a vault than a library.
They must leave their phones and wallets behind. Emptying their pockets. Airport style screening.
They pass through the detector.
Scottie and Danny put plastic dust covers over their shoes. They’re both given a pair of gloves.
The solemn librarian, gravely unhappy at their admission, escorts them through.
INT. UNIVERSITY OF LONDON. RARE BOOKS LIBRARY. SECURITY. NIGHT
The hum of rarified air, humidity controlled.
A secure archive. Not academic romantic.
Stark steel shelves are filled with books many hundreds of years old. Priceless. Irreplaceable.
Harsh fluorescent lights on the ceiling.
Sterile and austere, impossible to see all the corners and aisles, filled with hidden spaces.
The President of the University of London - Claire - waits for them. In many ways Claire is a reflection of Scottie. Same age. A mix of brilliance and eccentricity.
Scottie and Claire hug - an embrace full of warmth and love. Danny observes. It has the feel of former lovers.
A mystery.
Claire offers a hand to Danny. He shakes it.
She turns her attention to the librarian, lingering at the back of the room.
CLAIRE
Thank you.
The librarian leaves, reluctantly.
We hear a door shut. And seal.
CLAIRE (CONT’D)
You haven’t lost your taste for theatricality.
SCOTTIE
For once it’s justified.
The fond reunion atmosphere changes.
CLAIRE
What is this about? Why couldn’t you tell me on the phone?
SCOTTIE
A former student of your university. A prodigy.
DANNY
You might have known him as Alistair Turner. But he preferred the name Alex.
Claire regards Danny with exacting scrutiny. Catching up with the gravity of the situation.
CLAIRE
Let’s walk.
INT. UNIVERSITY OF LONDON. RARE BOOKS LIBRARY. MAIN CHAMBER. NIGHT
The three conspirators on the move, through the steel maze of bookshelves, weaving an unpredictable path.
Their voices are low.
CLAIRE
I didn’t know Alex personally. Only by reputation. There aren’t many students who start their degree at the age of fifteen.
DANNY
He was murdered.
Claire turns to Scottie for confirmation.
SCOTTIE
He was murdered, Claire.
Scottie gives no evidence. Nothing to back up the claim. Yet Claire nods, accepting. His words are enough.
Danny follows the mechanics of credibility.
CLAIRE
I take it you want to speak to Alex’s professor?
DANNY
Marcus Shaw.
SCOTTIE
What do you know about him?
CLAIRE
Brilliant. Difficult.
SCOTTIE
And his relationship with Alex?
CLAIRE
They were close.
SCOTTIE
Sexual?
Danny’s about to object. Scottie stops him.
CLAIRE
I’m confident their intimacy was purely intellectual.
DANNY
Will he talk to us?
CLAIRE
Marcus is precise. He won’t ‘chat’. Unless you’re talking about mathematics the discussion will be a waste of time.
SCOTTIE
Is it possible Alex confided in him?
CLAIRE
That’s a very serious allegation.
SCOTTIE
I’m just thinking aloud.
CLAIRE
Marcus admired Alex. On some level, he might have envied him. But I can’t believe he would’ve harmed him --
Suddenly the entire archive is plunged into darkness. Then, slowly, the fluorescent lights reboot.
Aisle by aisle until the table is in light again.
They’re spooked. They’ve stopped walking.
SCOTTIE
Can you arrange a meeting?
CLAIRE
Then you do have something specific to speak about?
Scottie glances at Danny.
Danny must decide. Does he trust her?
DANNY
We will.
Claire processes this revelation. Inscrutable.
INT. UN
IVERSITY OF LONDON. RARE BOOKS LIBRARY. MAIN CHAMBER. NIGHT
Danny, Scottie and Claire about to leave.
SCOTTIE
Don’t send emails. Don’t make calls. They’ll have access to your computers. Your office. Your phone.
(grave)
Claire, I should warn you --
CLAIRE
(interrupting)
He was my student, Scottie.
Scottie nods.
The door opens.
The librarian is standing outside.
EXT. UNIVERSITY OF LONDON. NIGHT
Scottie hails a black cab.
DANNY
Where now?
SCOTTIE
A club, I thought.
EXT. MAYFAIR. EXCLUSIVE MEMBERS ONLY CLUB. NIGHT
Embassies and tax avoidance offices. Boutique shops. Fine dining establishments.
The streets are silent. And immaculate.
A beautiful period building. All front curtains closed. No glimpse inside. No sign.
Danny and Scottie at the gate.
SCOTTIE
Don’t admire your surroundings. Affect an air of mild boredom. But don’t take it too far. It needs to feel effortless. Making an effort is the surest give away.
DANNY
This isn’t going to work.
SCOTTIE
All we need is enough uncertainty for them to allow you inside. The advantage is on our side: more than anything they despise making a scene.
They open the gate.
INT. MAYFAIR MEMBERS ONLY CLUB. RECEPTION. NIGHT
Dickensian. Dark timbers. Candle light. Antiques. Art on the walls: paintings of naval battles. Polished bronze busts of historical figures in glass cabinets. All men.
We could be a hundred years in the past.
At the front desk stands one young man and one older gentleman: both dressed in long-coat black tie.
Their solemn faces greet Scottie as he signs the leather bound ledger using a fountain pen.