Agency O

by Tor Fleck

  ‘I’ve told you there’s confidential stuff in there.’ Real anger now. ‘You can’t just – ’

  ‘Who’s the redhead in all those photographs you’ve got hidden away?’

  Alice sat back. Her eyes narrowed. ‘I can’t believe you’ve been going through my personal stuff,’ she said. ‘For fuck sake, Paul, what is this?’

  ‘Call it curiosity.’

  ‘I told you my office was out of bounds.’ Was that a tear? God, she’s good.

  ‘Who is she?’ Paul persisted.

  ‘She’s none of your fucking business.’ Alice wiped her cheek, leaned forward, and took a long drink. ‘It’s personal,’ she said quietly. ‘It’s got nothing to do with you.’

  ‘You don’t have a law degree, do you?’

  ‘So I’m a suspect now, is that it?’ Alice raged. ‘Oh yes, that’s right, did I not tell you? I’m a crack-shot with a fucking crossbow. I’m beginning to regret missing your fucking heart now. Or maybe you don’t have one to hit.’ She stood up and accidentally knocked her chair over. The elderly tweed couple peered up from their shared Stornoway black pudding panini and quickly looked back down again.

  ‘Sit down,’ hissed Paul, grabbing Alice’s arm. ‘Please.’ She hesitated, briefly, then lifted her chair off the floor. ‘I just don’t understand why you’d lie about something so innocuous,’ said Paul. ‘I don’t care what degree you did.’

  Alice sat back down, her eyes ablaze. ‘But my employers might,’ she snapped. ‘I lied to you for the same reason I lied to them: to get the job. They were looking for an experienced journalist and I bullshitted. It’s not something I’m proud of.’

  ‘So all that stuff in your company profile is … bullshit?’

  ‘Of course not. Apart from that one thing, everything else is true.’

  ‘So who’s the woman?’

  ‘What woman?’

  ‘The redhead at the bottom of your filing cabinet.’

  ‘Leave it, Paul. Please.’ Alice’s hand shook as she raised her glass to her lips.

  ‘And why is she on the wall of your office at work. Are you gay?’

  ‘She’s my fucking sister!’ Alice yelled. Across the room, a Stornoway black pudding panini was demolished in record time. ‘My little sister,’ said Alice, taking a deep breath. ‘Lucy. She died.’

  ‘What? When?’ Paul was confused.

  ‘Last year. I put the photos away because I couldn’t bear looking at them, seeing her so alive like that.’ Paul studied her face, hoping for a flicker of deception. There was nothing. Just genuine grief. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said.

  ‘Are you?’

  ‘Of course I am. Something like that … it’s awful. How did she – ?’

  ‘She killed herself.’

  ‘Oh, God,’ said Paul. ‘God, that’s tough.’

  ‘One minute she’s talking about working abroad, the next she’s gone. We never – I never thought for a second that she was depressed, or worried about anything. She was always so up and full of life.’ Her lip trembled as the words fell out. Paul reached for her hand and this time it was her pulling away.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Paul. ‘I shouldn’t have taken my anger over the attacks out on you. I’ve been an idiot. I can only imagine what you’ve had to go through.’

  ‘You can’t,’ said Alice. ‘No one can.’ She broke down then, the tears flooding her face. It had been inevitable, but it still took Paul by surprise. ‘Fuck,’ he said. ‘I really didn’t mean to dredge all this up. Fuck, fuck, fuck!’

  Alice shook her head. ‘It’s not that,’ she mumbled. ‘It’s Richard.’

  ‘Richard?’

  ‘I was just starting to come out the other side of Lucy’s death, but he’s knocked me right back down again.’

  ‘What’s he been doing?’

  Alice wiped at her smudged mascara with the corner of a napkin. ‘Texting … emailing … he’s been doing it ever since we met.’

  ‘What?

  ‘At first he just asked how things were going with the board, but then he wanted me to help him scare you off. He said we could own the script outright, together.’

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I told him that was illegal, and that I couldn’t believe he’d betray you like that.’

  ‘What a bastard,’ growled Paul.

  ‘But that just made him angry,’ said Alice, rubbing her eyes. ‘His messages started to get more personal, you know?’ She held Paul’s gaze.

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘What do you think?

  ‘Sexual?’

  ‘It was disgusting.’

  ‘The fucking little … ’ Paul was furious. ‘What was he saying? Wait, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.’

  ‘But then,’ said Alice, ‘about three weeks ago, around the time you went into hospital, he started following me.’

  Paul ran a hand through his hair. He was struggling to keep up.

  ‘I’d see him everywhere I went,’ said Alice. ‘Loitering near the flat or waiting for me to leave work. Once, when I’d had enough of it, I confronted him, but he just denied it. Said I was mad.’

  ‘Jesus Christ. He’s been stalking you.’

  ‘He’s fixated,’ said Alice. ‘And then, the day before he came round to the flat, things got a lot worse.’ She dropped her head into her hands.

  Paul leaned over the table. ‘What happened?’

  ‘He was following me again,’ whispered Alice, the tears thickening. ‘But this time he grabbed me. He was so full of rage. He pushed me into an alley and … tried to force himself on me.’ Her breathing quickened with panic. ‘He’s a monster, Paul.’

  ‘He didn’t though, did he? Force himself, I mean.’ Paul felt sick at the thought.

  Alice shook her head. ‘I kicked him in the balls and ran off.’ She let out an anxious laugh and wiped a thin line of snot from her nose.

  ‘I can’t believe he’s stalking you.’

  Alice snatched up her phone and fiddled with the buttons, before thrusting it in Paul’s face. ‘If you need proof …’ she said. And there it was, in black and white: reams of threat-filled texts, all from Richard.

  ‘He’s lost his mind,’ said Paul. She’s telling the truth. Jesus fucking Christ.

  ‘Good evening.’ A booming voice made them both spin round.

  Looming over their table was the obese hulk of Detective Frank Quinn. ‘What a pleasant surprise,’ he said, offering Paul his hand. Paul was still reeling from Alice’s revelations. Quinn’s sudden appearance before them dizzied him even more. ‘Professor Quinn,’ he finally managed, standing up and shaking the man’s hand vigorously. ‘Indeed, this is a surprise.’

  Quinn turned to Alice, trying desperately to clear away the last of her tears. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Obviously my timing could have been better.’ Alice shook her head and offered up a weak smile.

  ‘Alice,’ said Paul, plucking a desperate lie from thin air, ‘this is Professor Quinn, my … old English supervisor from Glasgow uni.’

  Alice took Quinn’s hand and shook it gently. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I had some bother at work and Paul was counselling me.’ That’s a very convincing lie considering your emotional state, thought Paul.

  ‘Oh, the pleasure is all mine,’ said Quinn, rather creepily. The moment stretched out into an uncomfortable silence. Paul felt an obligation to break it. ‘So … er, Professor,’ he stammered. ‘Were you just passing, or …?’

  ‘That’s exactly what I was doing,’ said Quinn. ‘I was on my way to a talk at the Art School and just popped in for a drink. I have a thirst like you wouldn’t believe.’

  ‘Are you an American, Professor Quinn?’ asked Alice, her composure seemingly fully recovered now.

  ‘For my sins,’ replied Quinn, with a slight bow. ‘Even though I taught at the university for – ’ He stopped and looked at Paul.

  ‘Forever,’ Paul cut in quickly. Quinn laughed. ‘Very good,’ he said, and winked. He swi
velled back round to Alice. ‘I take it you are burdened with the challenging role of Paul’s girlfriend?’ he quipped.

  ‘Alice is a friend, yes,’ Paul interrupted. Where’s he going with this? Quinn shifted his bulk further towards Alice. ‘And how did you come to meet this talented young writer?’ he asked, laying on the home-school charm with a lard spoon.

  ‘I work for a film company that’s interested in one of Paul’s scripts,’ said Alice.

  ‘Oh, now that sounds exciting,’ said Quinn. ‘Paul was an excellent student with a very imaginative and creative mind. He was always able to take on advice and follow it. Many of our current students actually seem incapable of listening, and end up in all sorts of trouble.’ He glanced over at a nervous-looking Paul. ‘But Paul was always smarter than that. Oh dear,’ he said, grinning, ‘I seem to be embarrassing him. But what Paul had was an uncanny ability to dig out the truth and capture it in his writing. He has such a keen eye for detail.’ Quinn took a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped a sheet of sweat from his brow. ‘I’m so glad his talents are finally being recognised. Which company is it you work for, Alice?’

  ‘Omni Pictures,’ said Alice.

  Quinn stared at her for a second, his features completely frozen. ‘That is marvellous,’ he said finally. ‘I’m thrilled for you. For both of you.’ He took a step back. ‘Well, I’ll stop pestering you now and let you get on with your … er … counselling and your meal.’ He turned to Paul. ‘It’s always a delight seeing you, Paul, and hearing how well your life is going.’ He held his hand out for Paul to shake and passed him a piece of paper tucked into his palm. Paul slipped it into his pocket without Alice seeing it. ‘Goodbye, Alice,’ smiled Quinn, a little nauseously. ‘It was very interesting to meet you.’ Alice smiled back, but Paul sensed the insincerity behind it.

  They watched Quinn negotiate, not entirely successfully, the closely-placed tables and hobble his way out of the restaurant. Alice took a long drink of her spritzer. ‘God, he was creepy,’ she said.’ I’m so up to here with sleazy men.’

  ‘Strangely, he was a very good lecturer.’ Another lie, convincingly told.

  ‘The way he looked at me …’ Alice shivered. ‘And he’s so overweight. Revolting. Has he always been that size?’

  ‘As long as I’ve known him.’

  ‘He creeps me out.’ Does he? And why’s that? It wasn’t just his size, was it?

  ‘Excuse me,’ said Alice, standing up. ‘I suddenly have an urge to wash my hands.’

  While Alice was in the loo Paul examined the card Quinn had slipped him. One side was blank, but a phone number had been scribbled on the other, alongside three words: WATCH YOUR BACK. Keeping a watchful eye on the loo door, Paul rang the number. Come on, come on. The line clicked. ‘Quinn?’ No reply. ‘Quinn!’

  ‘Sensible boy.’ Quinn’s self-satisfied reply had a hint of Southern drawl to it.

  ‘What the fuck are you doing following me, you freak?’

  ‘Paul, listen to me. This is important.’

  ‘How did you even know I was here?’

  ‘Listen!’ Quinn roared, and Paul shut up. ‘You are in grave danger.’ He lowered his voice. ‘You need to get out of there. Right now.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  The line garbled and popped, and Quinn’s voice disappeared. ‘Quinn?’ rasped Paul. ‘Quinn? Are you there?’ The line went dead. Shit. Paul slipped the phone back into his pocket just as Alice returned to the table. ‘Who was that?’ she asked, sitting down and pushing a strand of hair back behind her ear.

  ‘What?’ Paul’s voice slid a tad higher than normal.

  ‘On your phone. Just now.’

  ‘Oh that,’ said Paul. ‘It was Richard. He’d left a message, checking how I was. As if he fucking cares.’

  ‘Promise me you won’t reply,’ said Alice. ‘He scares me.’

  ‘He’s fucking dead as far as I’m concerned,’ replied Paul. He thought he caught the hint of a smile in the corners of Alice’s mouth. ‘Listen,’ he said, ‘I’m not feeling too great. I’m going to go back to the flat.’

  Alice gathered up her bag. ‘I’ll come with you.’

  Paul put a hand on Alice’s arm. ‘I’ll be fine,’ he said. ‘You get yourself something to eat. You must be starving.’ He felt bad leaving her on her own, but he needed to find out what Quinn meant. He also needed to confront Richard, look him in the eye, and find out if he was telling the truth or not.

  Alice looked worried. ‘I don’t want to be alone,’ she said. Fuck, thought Paul. What kind of shit leaves a woman on her own? He sighed. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘We’ll get a taxi.’ They collected their coats, made their apologies to the waiter, and left.

  The journey home allowed Paul time to think. Alice’s story about her sister was one thing, but Richard, a stalker? It was hard to believe. He was so self-obsessed the only person he was likely to stalk was himself. But then how could Alice fake the texts he’d seen? They definitely came from Richard’s phone. Had something inside him snapped? Had the script triggered some long-gestating, and inevitable, downward spiral in his brain? Alice leaned over and kissed him passionately, stopping all rational thought. ‘I need you to hold me tonight,’ she whispered, kissing him again and running a hand along his thigh. He pulled back. ‘I’m not sure I’m up to anything energetic,’ he said weakly, glancing up at the taxi driver. Alice leaned back, took his hand, and kissed it seductively. ‘We’ll see,’ she smiled.

  Paul’s phone was in his jacket, hanging on the back of the bedroom door. He waited until Alice’s breathing had steadied to a slow, gentle rhythm before slipping out of bed and retrieving it. He took it into the bathroom with him and was about to punch in Quinn’s number when Alice appeared at the door, yawning. ‘What are you doing?’ she asked sleepily. Paul grabbed a towel and covered the phone with it. ‘I was looking for my painkillers,’ he said, wincing.

  ‘I put them up there,’ said Alice, pointing to the mirrored cupboard on the wall.

  ‘Thanks,’ smiled Paul. ‘I’ll be out in a minute. You go back to sleep.’ Alice about-turned, still yawning. When he heard her climbing back into bed, Paul flushed the loo. He’d call Quinn tomorrow. In the bedroom, he returned the phone to his jacket pocket and slid under the duvet. Alice turned and snuggled into his back. ‘You okay?’ she asked, but before he could reply she’d begun to snore quietly.

  Alice took forever to leave for work in the morning, but the second she’d gone Paul grabbed his phone and found Quinn’s number. He was about to call it again when a text pinged. It was from Quinn. What the fuck? He fumbled open the message.

  You are not safe

  You need to get out now

  We can protect you

  Go to 12 Ballhill Rise

  Today at 12.00

  I will meet you there and explain

  Bring the master USB

  Ballhill Rise was the bloody beating heart of Castlebank, Glasgow’s most notorious housing estate. Why the fuck did Quinn want to meet there? Did he think it was safe because what surrounded it was so unsafe? Paul sat down at the table and considered his options. Could Quinn be trusted? Richard didn’t think so, but Paul couldn’t give a fuck what Richard thought. Saying that, Richard had been right about one thing: Alice was a control freak. Paul could see that now. And for some reason she wanted him kept captive at the flat: the trophy boyfriend, evidence of her victory over him. Well, no more. He returned to the bedroom and emptied everything he owned into a holdall. He was getting the fuck out of there.

  SCRIPT EDIT 22 – ROOFTOP FIGHT SCENE

  FADE IN:

  EXT. SKYSCRAPER ROOFTOP - NIGHT

  Crane shot of panoramic views across the city. We zoom to …

  … Harvey running across the rooftop, pursued by GRIFFIN ZANE, a remorseless intern. Griffin tackles him to the ground, fists, arms, and legs flying. Harvey wrestles free and runs to the railing at the edge of the roof. He’s cornered.

  Griffin catches
Harvey again, grabs him by the throat, and forces him over the edge of the railing. Harvey glances down past the seemingly-endless storeys.

  The view to the ground below is nauseatingly vertiginous.

  Harvey swivels and punches Griffin in the head. Dazed, Griffin lets Harvey go, allowing Harvey to punch him, hard, in the gut. Griffin crumples. Harvey kicks him in the face, knocking him onto his back. He stands over Griffin, PANTING.

  HARVEY

  Just stop, Griffin.

  Griffin lands a kick to Harvey’s groin, leaps to his feet, and punches Harvey in the face. Harvey returns with a head-butt. Griffin’s nose explodes in a hail of red.

  HARVEY (CONT’D)

  For fuck sake, stop.

  Griffin looks up, holding his broken nose.

  HARVEY (CONT’D)

  You don’t have to do this.

  GRIFFIN

  It’s too late.

  HARVEY

  We can stop this.

  GRIFFIN

  It’s gone too far.

  HARVEY

  What have they told you?

  GRIFFIN

  They want you gone. You fucked them over.

  HARVEY

  They’re fucking us over. They’re using you, Griffin. You’re their errand boy. They’ve promised you riches beyond your wildest dreams, am I right?

  Griffin wipes away the blood pouring down his face.

  HARVEY (CONT’D)

  And all you’ve got to do is this one little favour. Get rid of me and you get my job.

  GRIFFIN

  They’ve got me by the balls. They said if I didn’t do this, they’d kill my girlfriend and my parents. I don’t have a choice.

  Griffin pulls out a revolver and points it at Harvey’s head. Harvey backs away, towards the building’s edge.

  HARVEY

  Wait! We can stop them, together.

  GRIFFIN

  It’s too late. I’m sorry.

  Griffin’s hand is shaking. Harvey is now at the railing.

  HARVEY

  Listen. I have files, documents, incriminating – fucking devastating – information that’ll blow their whole fucking organisation wide apart.