The Inspector’s uniform is suitably drab. Shoes scuffed.
Danny gives him the ticket. He punches it. Hands it back. And without a word walks towards the next carriage.
INT/EXT. INTERCITY TRAIN / STATION. DAY
The train’s stopped. An announcement crackles out.
Passengers board. Some enter the carriage. But all the seats are reserved and they move on.
Danny is still alone. And increasingly uneasy.
The train pulls out. At this point --
A striking man in his fifties, or sixties, enters.
Dressed in quintessential British attire: Henry Poole of Saville row suit. Schnieder of Clifford Street shoes. Not a guy who looks like he’d be in standard class.
The man studies the reservation slips, as many others have done, paying no attention to Danny. Searching for his seat number, he eventually finds it --
Directly opposite Danny.
The man squeezes into his allotted seat. The two of them face to face, knees grazing, in an otherwise empty carriage. The man seems unaware of any absurdity.
He places his leather satchel on the seat beside him and smiles at Danny. The smile appears warm and real.
Danny doesn’t smile back. The man doesn’t notice. Or seem to mind, instead, he takes from his satchel a small paper bag. He crinkles it open, offering it to Danny.
Danny peers inside.
It’s filled with traditional English boiled sweets.
The man speaks with an American accent - appealing and melodic - but its precise nature is unimportant.
THE AMERICAN
I have a sweet tooth.
Danny’s guard is up. He declines the sweets.
THE AMERICAN (CONT’D)
It’s easier to quit smoking, I swear.
The man’s engrossed in the sweets and carefully selects one, putting it in his mouth. Satisfied with his choice.
He sucks.
Danny’s eyes never leave the man. Yet the man isn’t troubled by the intensity of Danny’s stare.
THE AMERICAN (CONT’D)
Not very British, talking to a stranger on a train?
Danny doesn’t reply. The American continues nonetheless.
THE AMERICAN (CONT’D)
I’ve worked in this country for ten years now --
DANNY
(interrupting)
What line of work?
In a flash the American produces an elegant business card - ‘Insurance Broker’. Various details. Looks real.
THE AMERICAN
Own a house?
DANNY
No.
THE AMERICAN
Car?
DANNY
No.
THE AMERICAN
Valuables?
Danny offers the card back.
DANNY
Nothing.
The American doesn’t take the card.
THE AMERICAN
You have your health - that’s the most precious asset of all.
A faint touch of menace - imagined, or accidental. Sales pitch over, the man contemplates Danny.
THE AMERICAN (CONT’D)
Over the years I’ve adopted many of this country’s customs. Except for that famous British reserve. I enjoy talking too much. Once in a while someone...
(considers carefully)
Unexpected, tells you something...
(considers carefully)
Useful.
Danny wonders if this is a cue. He takes the bait.
DANNY
Such as?
The American muses. As if he hadn’t expected the question. A strange dance between these two men. One full of suspicion. The other excessively innocent.
THE AMERICAN
You’ve put me on the spot.
(sucks hard on sweet)
Okay...
The American leans forward. As though about to impart a vital secret of some kind. Danny also leans forward.
THE AMERICAN (CONT’D)
Do you mind if I take the sweet out of my mouth?
DANNY
Go ahead.
They both sit back.
The American removes the boiled sweet, placing it in the centre of a white silk handkerchief and neatly depositing it on the side table.
THE AMERICAN
I was told this story by a gentleman I’d never seen before. And I’ll never see again.
Silence. Danny waits. But the American refuses to speak.
Danny turns around to see --
The Ticket Inspector entering the carriage.
The American has produced his ticket. And waits...
The Inspector clips the ticket. Danny watches the interaction between the Inspector and the American very carefully. The Inspector hands the ticket back.
The three hold a moment. And then the Inspector moves on. Once the Inspector is gone and the carriage is empty --
THE AMERICAN (CONT’D)
There was a farmer living in the Greek Peloponnesian Hills.
It had been the hottest-driest summer for hundreds of years. One day the farmer saw smoke rising into the clear blue sky. Out of the smoke appeared an old man, riding on the back of a mule. He said: “A terrible fire’s coming! The worst I’ve ever seen. Jump on the back of my mule!” The pious farmer thanked the old man for his offer but declared: “I will pray to God. My faith is strong. He’ll protect me.” The old man shook his head at the farmer’s folly and hurried on.
(beat)
Soon, across the nearby hills, spread a horizon of flames. Fleeing the destruction came a truck carrying many families. They called out to the farmer: “A terrible fire’s coming! The worst we’ve ever seen. Jump in our truck or you’ll surely be killed.” But the farmer said: “I will pray to God. My faith is strong. God will protect me.” Aghast at this stupidity, the truck drove off.
(beat)
Soon the fire arrived at the foot of the farmer’s hill, consuming every tree and bush and blade of grass. Miraculously, in the sky, there appeared a helicopter --
(breaking flow)
You can guess where this is going?
DANNY
He said no to the helicopter?
THE AMERICAN
And sure enough the flames climbed his hill, scorching his crops, killing his livestock, burning his farmhouse. Finally, with the heat blistering his skin, the pious farmer cried out to God. But received no reply.
(beat)
Soon there was nothing left on the hill except for smouldering carcasses, burnt timbers and hot ash.
The American pauses, as if the story had ended. But just as Danny is about to react, he continues -
THE AMERICAN (CONT’D)
In heaven the farmer knelt before God and said: “I am a pious man. My faith is strong. I did no wrong. I committed no sin. Why didn’t you answer my prayers?”
The American wants Danny to ask the question.
DANNY
What did God say?
THE AMERICAN
He said: “I sent you a mule, a truck and a helicopter. Yet still you could not be saved.”
The American smiles. The same smile we saw before. But now doesn’t feel quite so warm.
THE AMERICAN (CONT’D)
“Yet still you could not be saved.”
Like a mirage, the moment of menace passes.
THE AMERICAN (CONT’D)
Told to me by a gentleman I’d never seen before and will never see again.
The American turns to look out the window. And pays no more attention to Danny.
INT/EXT. INTERCITY TRAIN. CARRIAGE / LONDON. DAY
Danny seated opposite the American. The man is fascinated with the view -- the approach into London’s outskirts.
THE AMERICAN
I love this city.
Danny stands, leaving the carriage.
INT. INTERCITY TRAIN. RESTAURANT BAR. DAY
The bar is packed with drunken travellers, returning from football matches, in contrast to the stilln
ess of the empty carriage.
Danny buys two miniature bottles of Scotch.
INT. INTERCITY TRAIN. TOILETS. DAY
Danny drinks the first double measure of Scotch in one gulp. He looks in the mirror.
DANNY
Who you are?
(more assertive)
Who are you?
Are you threatening me?
Danny drinks the second double measure.
INT. INTERCITY TRAIN. CARRIAGE. DAY
Danny returns to his carriage. Only to see that The American is gone. Danny approaches the seat.
An announcement declares that they’re arriving at King’s Cross Station.
Danny looks into the adjacent carriages and sees that the corridors are full. No one can move. Everyone standing ready to disembark. Aisles are blocked.
No sign of The American.
Danny’s attention returns to his seat.
The American has left behind his white silk handkerchief. It sits on the side table.
We see the distinct, small curve of an object at its centre. Around the curve the white material has been stained an ominous-bloody red.
The train stops. Passengers seep onto the platform.
But not Danny. He sits down. And slowly opens the handkerchief revealing --
A bright boiled sweet.
At first, relief, then anti-climax. But there’s something unusual about it --
Danny holds it up to the light as though it were a precious gem.
Encased in the transparent centre is something angular and blue. We can’t see what. Blurred, through the sugar.
The Inspector enters the carriage, taking down all the reservation slips from the back of the seats.
And looking at Danny.
Danny wraps up the sweet in the handkerchief and puts it in his pocket.
EXT. SCOTTIE’S HOUSE. FRONT DOOR. NIGHT
Danny knocks on the door. Scottie opens up, surprised to see him. He’s about to speak when --
Danny shakes his head, indicating a need for silence. He gestures outside.
Scottie obliges, grabbing a coat. He leaves the house, pulling the door shut.
The two stand in his front garden - hidden from the street. Danny’s in evident turmoil.
SCOTTIE
You think my home is bugged?
DANNY
It can’t be a coincidence... the train... the stranger...
SCOTTIE
Danny?
DANNY
They heard us.
SCOTTIE
Who?
DANNY
The people who murdered Alex.
Scottie’s thoughtful.
SCOTTIE
Suppose he was murdered. Suppose you’re right. Then follow it through. The implications of what you’re saying.
Danny nods. Trying to calm down.
SCOTTIE (CONT’D)
You believe you’re at the beginning of something but really you’re at the end. It all happened whilst you weren’t looking. And now... It’s over. It’s done. Everything you think of will have already been thought of. You know nothing about them. And they will know everything about you.
If they don’t kill you it will be for one reason - they consider you less of a nuisance alive than dead.
(off Danny’s reaction)
You’re insulted by the idea of your insignificance? You should cherish it.
DANNY
If the police won’t do anything... Maybe the press will... If the press won’t do anything... Maybe the parents will... If the parents won’t... who’s left?
SCOTTIE
No daring journalists will come to your aid. No rogue police officers. It will just be you. You alone. Ask yourself, Danny, honestly - who are you? You’re friends with everyone. You trust everyone. And you know no-one.
DANNY
You know these people --
SCOTTIE
I knew them thirty years ago.
DANNY
Help me.
Scottie considers. It’s hard for him.
SCOTTIE
In one way or another I’ve spent much of my life being afraid. It is a privilege spending time with a man who’s never been afraid of anything. And that’s not just because you were born in a different time. You’re fearless. I’ve always wondered how that must feel. But, Danny, occasionally, it is right to be afraid.
Danny’s unsure.
SCOTTIE (CONT’D)
Leave this alone. Promise me?
INT. DANNY’S APARTMENT. BEDROOM. NIGHT
Danny, seated, on the floor of his bedroom. The boiled sweet is positioned in the middle of plate.
Using a sharp knife, Danny carefully chips away the sugar shell, chiselling and chiselling, revealing --
A blue pill.
Not an illicit drug. A professionally produced medicine of some kind. A serial code on the side.
With the pill in one hand, Danny reaches into his pocket, taking out the American’s business card.
He appears to be weighing them in his hands.
INT. DANNY’S APARTMENT. HALLWAY. NIGHT
Danny slips out, in silence.
INT. DANNY’S APARTMENT BUILDING. COMMUNAL STAIRWAY. NIGHT
Danny heads up the stairs, towards the fire exit --
EXT. DANNY’S APARTMENT ROOFTOP. NIGHT
The rooftop view of Vauxhall. The park. The pubs. Looming over the area is the MI6 building.
A light snow falls.
Danny walks to the ledge. Highly visible from every direction. Directly facing the MI6 building.
He pulls out the insurance business card and slowly - deliberately - rips it into the tiniest shreds, making sure his actions can be clearly seen.
He collects the fragments in his hands and raises them up - offering them to the heavens.
The wind catches them and they blow up, higher and higher, the paper merging with the snowflakes, disappearing into the night sky.
END OF EPISODE 2
EPISODE THREE:
“BLUE”
INT. DANNY’S APARTMENT. BEDROOM. DAWN
Danny opens his eyes. He’s in bed. It’s dark outside. The alarm clock says 5 AM.
His eyes concentrate on the cheap, coarse carpet - tiny flecks of dust rise up, shaken from the fibres.
And now the sound of heavy footsteps, reverberating through the apartment.
Danny sits up as --
The door’s kicked open. A shattering noise. And then -
Silence.
A mob of plain clothes police officers enter, shouting instructions we do not hear.
Just angry eyes & angry expressions.
The silence continues as Danny is violently pulled from the bed as if he were a grave and deadly threat.
Danny’s head pressed flat on the coarse carpet.
INT. DANNY’S APARTMENT. BEDROOM. DAWN
Silence continues except for one element of sound - Danny’s breathing. The effect of disorientation.
Danny under watch as he’s handed some clothes. An extreme level of caution, each item is checked by officers.
INT. DANNY’S APARTMENT. BEDROOM. DAWN
Silence except for Danny’s breathing, and the addition of a second element of sound --
The metal handcuffs. As Danny’s hands secured.
In the background forensic officers have already begun to process his room like a crime scene.
INT. DANNY’S APARTMENT. HALLWAY. DAWN
Silence except for Danny’s breathing and Sara’s voice, contorted & indistinct - not dialogue, we feel the rhythm of her anger and upset.
Danny being led out. Sara and Pavel being held back by officers, concerned, upset & powerless.
INT. DANNY’S APARTMENT BUILDING. COMMUNAL STAIRWAY. DAWN
Silence except for Danny’s breathing and the sound of doors unlocking --
As Danny’s led out, neighbours open their doors, peering. No sympathy just the presumption of guilt.
INT/EXT. POLICE CAR / LONDON.
DAWN
Silence except for Danny’s breathing and a siren: warped and faded and distorted.
Close on Danny against the window, being driven through near-deserted London, a blur in the background.
INT. POLICE STATION. DETAINEE PROCESSING. DAY
Silence except for Danny’s breathing and a particular sound from each separate part of the sequence.
- Danny photographed.
- Fingerprints taken.
- Information entered into the computer systems.
- a DNA swab from his mouth.
- A health care professional readies a needle, pre-fitted with a tube, which runs to a 5 millimetre phial - a modern, sterile, easy-to-use blood-sampling kit.
- The needle enters Danny’s vein.
- The plastic tube turns red. The phial’s filled. The needle’s removed.
- A barcode wrapped around the blood.
INT. POLICE STATION. INTERROGATION ROOM. DAY
Danny seated. His lawyer, from Episode One, is present. Detective Taylor and colleague opposite.
The stark white abattoir interrogation room.
Detective Taylor speaks precisely, without bombast. After beats of silence, her voice hits us like a jolt.
DETECTIVE TAYLOR
The trunk.
She presents a photograph of the trunk. Empty. Just the trunk. Plain and simple. Lid open.
DETECTIVE TAYLOR (CONT’D)
An antique. Wood. Leather. Steel frame. Brass locks. Very strong.
(beat)
You claim it was used to store hiking boots. And other outdoor equipment in the back of his car.
FLASH TO:
EXT. ESTUARY. DAY (PAST)
A split second flash from the past - the idyllic country walk, the trunk filled with maps. Danny & Alex happy.
BACK TO:
INT. POLICE STATION. INTERROGATION ROOM. DAY (PRESENT)
The Detective presents a photo of the trunk as discovered in the attic. A horrific scene.
London Spy: The Complete Scripts Page 10
