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  ‘George, don’t embarrass the laddie,’ whispered Jean.

  ‘She shouldn’t have done that,’ said Paul. ‘How’d she get your number anyway?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Jean, ‘but she wiz awfa concerned about you. She’s got a lovely soft voice, hasn’t she?’ She gave Paul one of her ‘Shall I buy myself a new hat?’ smiles.

  ‘She’s from the film company,’ said Paul. ‘She’s the one who likes our script.’

  ‘Ah,’ grinned George. ‘Are ye sure that’s aw she likes?’

  George!’ scolded Jean. She sat down next to Paul and stroked his forehead. ‘The doctor said you were very poorly,’ she said, ‘but that you’re out of danger now.’

  ‘The bastards.’

  ‘George!’ Jean repeated.

  ‘If I get my hands on them, they’ll be in the fucking danger zone.’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, George. Not in the bloody hospital, please.’ Their squabble was interrupted by the arrival of a squeaky-trainered nurse. ‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘but the police are here.’ She looked at Paul. ‘Are you ready to speak to them?’

  ‘The polis?’ sneered George. ‘They’re aboot as much use as a bag ae pork scratchins at a bar mitzvah.’ This time Jean’s reprimand came in the form of a slap on the arm. ‘Well,’ said George, ‘somebody needs tae tell them tae get thur trotters oot thur lazy arses an catch the bastards that did this. Shower ae useless bloody morons.’

  And so they proved. The two constables – only one of them old enough to remember dial-up Internet – took Paul’s statement but offered no clues regarding the perpetrator of the attack. All they could confirm was that the investigation was ongoing and that they were going through CCTV footage from the scene. Their clearly rehearsed words were intended as reassurance, but fell flatter than a peshwari naan. They were as disengaged and gormless as the pork scratchings George had compared them to. What was more pressing in Paul’s mind, and what he couldn’t let go of, was how Alice had gotten her hands on his parents’ phone number. He needed to get closer to her; find a way through her bullet-proof armour, and get to the truth about the mysterious Omni executive.

  SCRIPT EDIT 14- HARVEY’S DISCOVERY SCENE

  FADE IN:

  INT: OPEN PLAN OFFICE / SARAH’S OFFICE – NIGHT

  In the middle of a large, empty office, a single desk is lit: Harvey’s. He’s at the PC, TYPING furiously.

  SARAH (O.S.)

  Your diligence is commendable.

  Harvey jumps and swivels round.

  HARVEY

  Jesus. You scared me half to death.

  SARAH

  What are you doing, exactly?

  HARVEY

  Ballatine’s asked me to come up with a new system to file archived accounts, but –

  SARAH

  Okay, so I need you to stop what you’re doing, and follow me.

  HARVEY

  I can’t. He needs it by Thursday.

  SARAH

  I don’t give a shit. Come.

  Harvey rises reluctantly from his chair and follows Sarah to a minimalist space blocked off from the rest of the office by a glass wall. Inside, a nameplate with Sarah’s name on it adorns a glass-topped desk.

  Sarah PUNCHES a code into the tall, steel filing cabinet in the corner. The top drawer slides opens with a small CLICK. She takes out three large files and hands them to Harvey.

  SARAH (CONT’D)

  Take these.

  HARVEY

  What are they?

  SARAH

  Employee records.

  Sarah sits at her desk.

  SARAH (CONT’D)

  I’d like you to look for any employees who have been fired or quit or … died.

  HARVEY

  There’s a fuckload of records here.

  SARAH

  Ten years’ worth. Make a note of personal details: name, address, employee number, etc. Also, the reason we ‘let them go’.

  HARVEY

  Why?

  SARAH

  I’m not sure. Call it a hunch.

  Harvey SIGHS.

  HARVEY

  What about Ballatine’s accounts?

  SARAH

  I know you’ve been very busy oiling your way up the greasy pole, Harvey, but as far as I’m aware, I’m still your superior. Unless, of course, you’ve just been promoted again.

  HARVEY

  Fine.

  INT. OPEN PLAN OFFICE - NIGHT

  A tower of files balance awkwardly on Harvey’s desk. He glances back at Sarah’s office.

  Sarah is visible through the glass, writing at her desk.

  Harvey SIGHS and opens the first file.

  Viewed from the far end of the office, Harvey appears as a lonely, lighted island, surrounded by a sea of darkness.

  FADE OUT

  FADE IN:

  INT. OPEN PLAN OFFICE - NIGHT

  Harvey flicks through page after page, until he sees …

  … the name JAMESON. Harvey runs his finger down the page, stopping at the word DECEASED marked in red. He flicks back through the file. Other employee profiles have been marked the same way. A loud, dull SHOUT causes Harvey to look up.

  Sarah paces around her office. She’s agitated, ARGUING with someone on the other end of the phone.

  Harvey crosses to the water cooler, next to Sarah’s office. He leans in close to her door, listening.

  SARAH

  I merely asked you why?

  (pause)

  Well, that’s not a good enough reason.

  (pause)

  It looks to me like he’s being groomed.

  (pause)

  I don’t know what, you tell me!

  (pause)

  Oh, just be honest for once.

  (pause)

  Well, think what you like.

  (pause)

  Yeah, that’s right. Fuck you!

  Sarah SLAMS the phone down. Harvey returns to the water cooler and fills his cup. Then … a CRASH from inside. Harvey rushes back and KNOCKS on the glass screen.

  SARAH (O.S., CONT’D)

  Go away!

  INT. SARAH’S OFFICE – NIGHT

  Harvey enters Sarah’s office.

  Sarah is on her knees, picking up shards of broken glass. On the floor is an upturned tray and a smashed water jug.

  Harvey kneels down beside Sarah.

  SARAH (CONT’D)

  It’s okay. I have this.

  Harvey turns the tray over. Picks up pieces of glass.

  SARAH (CONT’D)

  Leave it!

  A shard of glass slices through Sarah’s finger and she recoils in pain. Blood oozes out.

  SARAH (CONT’D)

  Oh, great.

  Sarah drops the shard and stands up.

  HARVEY

  Let me see.

  SARAH

  It’s nothing.

  HARVEY

  Give me your hand.

  Sarah is reluctant, but gives in. Harvey examines the wound.

  HARVEY (CONT’D)

  It looks deep. Do you have any tissues?

  SARAH

  On my desk, there.

  Harvey grabs the box, pulls out a tissue, and presses it against the wound. Sarah looks up at him.

  HARVEY

  Hold it and wait there.

  Sarah silently does as Harvey says. He returns a moment later with a first aid box. He takes out a surgical wipe and cleans the wound.

  HARVEY (CONT’D)

  You sounded upset. On the phone.

  Sarah brusquely wipes a tear from her face.

  SARAH

  How many times have you been promoted since June?

  HARVEY

  What?

  SARAH

  It’s a simple question. How many times?

  HARVEY

  Two.

  SARAH

  So what are you now?

  HARVEY

  My role? Assistant to the secretariat.

  SARAH

  S
o, in three months you have moved from office junior to assistant to the secretariat, one grade lower than me.

  HARVEY

  And?

  SARAH

  Have you ever stopped to think why you are being fast-tracked by our great leader?

  HARVEY

  I’d like to think it’s because I’m good at what I do. Mr Ballatine seems happy with me.

  SARAH

  You honestly believe that?

  HARVEY

  Why wouldn’t I?

  Sarah shakes her head.

  SARAH

  You are so naïve. You have no qualifications, no experience, no life to speak of. Doesn’t that strike you as a little … odd?

  HARVEY

  What is this? Are you feeling threatened?

  SARAH

  (LAUGHS)

  By you? You’re the one who should feel threatened.

  HARVEY

  What do you mean?

  SARAH

  Forget it.

  HARVEY

  You can’t just say something like that and leave it.

  SARAH

  Mr Ballatine has plans for you. Big plans. But -

  HARVEY

  But what?

  SARAH

  Just … watch your back. Rewards round here come at a price.

  HARVEY

  What are you talking about?

  SARAH

  I like you, Harvey. But you need to know what you’re getting into. All that glitters … might come with a nasty bite.

  HARVEY

  You’re trying to scare me off. You think I’m stupid?

  Sarah grabs Harvey’s arm.

  SARAH

  I mean it. Be very careful.

  Sarah locks eyes with Harvey. She looks genuinely afraid. She moves her hand up his arm. He moves in closer and gently reaches around her waist. Their lips almost touch. They pause. Then they kiss. Passionately.

  Sarah pushes Harvey up against the glass wall. He runs his hand up her leg and reaches for the zip of her skirt. She grabs his hand and pulls it away. Stepping back, she straightens her skirt and returns to her desk.

  SARAH (CONT’D)

  I suggest we call it a night … before we do something we regret.

  Harvey is disorientated. What just happened?

  HARVEY

  I wouldn’t regret it.

  SARAH

  Another life, maybe. Not this one. Not now.

  HARVEY

  Let’s go for a drink.

  SARAH

  (smiling)

  Goodnight, Harvey.

  HARVEY

  Just a drink, that’s all. Colleague to colleague.

  SARAH

  Good. Night. Harvey.

  HARVEY

  You know I’m going to keep on asking you.

  A bigger smile from Sarah this time.

  SARAH

  Idiot. See you tomorrow.

  Harvey GRUNTS and leaves. He glances back …

  … but Sarah’s on the phone again.

  Harvey’s smile fades, his expression now one of worry.

  FADE OUT

  21

  Paul slowly raised his left foot and placed it on the top stair.

  ‘That’s it, just one more push and we’re there,’ said Alice, holding his arm firmly.

  Paul swung his hips and, with Alice’s help, made it onto the landing.

  ‘There you go!’ said Alice triumphantly. ‘I told you you’d make it.’

  Paul puffed his cheeks out and smiled. ‘It’s not that bad,’ he said. ‘As long as I take it slowly.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Alice. ‘And I’ll remind you of that in a few days when you’re climbing the walls. Metaphorically speaking, of course.’

  Once inside the flat, Alice led Paul to the bedroom and carefully undressed him for bed. ‘How’s that?’ she asked, tucking the duvet up around his shoulders. Paul nodded tiredly in appreciation. Alice sat down next to him and rubbed his forehead. ‘You want something to eat? Or drink?’

  ‘Why are you doing this?’ asked Paul.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Looking after me. We barely know each other.’

  ‘We need to look after our future investment.’

  ‘Is that all?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Alice. ‘What other reason could there be?’

  ‘Maybe that, I don’t know, you might like me a little?’

  Alice laughed and kissed him slowly on the lips. ‘Of course I like you, you idiot.’ Paul leaned in for more. ‘Right,’ said Alice, standing up, ‘that’s enough of that. You might split your stitches.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Paul. ‘I mean it.’

  Alice shook her head. ‘Shhh.’

  ‘No’, said Paul, ‘I’m serious. I couldn’t face going back to mine. Not on my own.’

  ‘You’re better here,’ said Alice. ‘I can look after you’.

  ‘I don’t want to put you in any danger.’

  ‘You won’t. No one knows you’re here.’

  ‘Except Richard. I texted him.’

  ‘He’s your best friend,’ said Alice. ‘He’s not going to put you in any more danger.’

  ‘He’s a blabbermou – ’ Alice leaned over and pressed a finger against Paul’s lips. ‘Rest,’ she said. ’Later on I’ll bring you some soup.’ Paul nodded and smiled. Soup sounded good.

  As the days passed, Paul grew stronger. At first, all he could manage was a slow shuffle to the kitchen for a coffee, and then straight back to bed. But after a week or so he felt well enough to explore the flat a little. With Alice at work there was little else to do. Near the end of the second week of his confinement he ventured into the living room and turned on the TV. The bland morning babble, the inane ads, the shock-and-awe blitz of the news, it was all too much for him. He wasn’t ready for all that yet. He switched it off and wandered back out into the hall, taking a left into Alice’s office. Inside was as it had been before: a desk stacked high with folders and papers. The only thing missing was the post-it Alice had stuck to the monitor. This time round, Paul noticed a large wooden unit in the corner. The top drawer was stiff, but after some gentle persuasion, it eased open. Papers glided to the floor in front of him. He tried to pick them up, but the pain in his side pulled him up short. He closed the drawer and tried the second one. It was stuffed full of small photograph frames. He took one out and studied the picture. Two men and a middle-aged, red-haired woman stood outside a building with a sign above the door: Omni Pictures. The same woman was also in the second frame he picked up, posing this time, alone, at a desk in a small, well-organised office. Paul looked around him. It was the office he was standing in. He dug a third photo out. This time the woman was linked arm-in-arm with an unknown man, posing in the sunshine beside a large ornate fountain.

  There were more photographs of the woman in the next drawer down. Who the hell is this? thought Paul. Beneath the photographs he found a large framed certificate: a law degree from Cambridge University, the name Alice Lowe swirled across its middle. Why would she hide this at the bottom of a drawer? As he turned to lay the certificate on the desk, Paul’s arm nudged the mouse and the computer screen flashed on. He caught a brief snatch of a script – his script, with sections highlighted in red – before the screen went black and a login box appeared. Before he could guess the password, the downstairs buzzer sounded. Paul hastily stuffed the certificate and photographs back in their respective drawers. He gingerly bent for the stray papers on the floor, but the buzzer went off again. Fuck! Abandoning the loose sheets he hobbled out to the hall.

  ‘Who is it?’ he asked. No reply. ‘Hello? Is anybody there?’ He was about to put the receiver back on the wall when Alice’s voice came through.

  ‘Paul, it’s me. I’ve left my keys. Can you let me up?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Paul, and pressed the buzzer. He dragged himself back to the office and pushed the loose papers beneath the cabinet with his foot. He then returned to the hall, just as Alice opened the door.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I hope I didn’t get you up.’

  ‘I’d just put the kettle on,’ said Paul, heading for the kitchen. ‘You fancy a cuppa?’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Alice, ‘I’ve got to dash. I’m late for a meeting. I’ll just get my keys. They’re in the office.’ By the time Paul had lifted a mug down from the kitchen cupboard and splashed a little milk into it Alice had returned, her lips thin and accusing. ‘Did you go in there?’ she asked. ‘Into my office?’

  Paul shook his head convincingly. ‘That’s the only room I’ve yet to explore.’

  ‘If you don’t mind,’ said Alice, ‘I’d rather you didn’t. It’s just I’ve got confidential papers in there. You know, contracts and stuff.’

  ‘Not a problem,’ said Paul. ‘I totally understand.’ Bit of an overreaction, surely?

  ‘I’ll see you later,’ she said sharply, and swivelled on her heels. Paul watched her go. No kiss, then.

  From the front window, Paul watched Alice emerge out onto the street, her phone at her ear. She’d only gone a few yards when she was grabbed by the arm from behind and swung round. Paul strained to see her assailant clearly, but the man had his back to him. The pair shared a heated exchange before Alice slapped the man across the face. The man in turn shoved Alice angrily off the kerb.

  ‘Fuckin hell!’ shouted Paul, and thumped hard on the window. Both Alice and her assailant turned and looked up. Paul was shocked to see that the man who’d shoved Alice onto the road was Richard. Richard too seem shocked to see Paul, and quickly ducked out of sight, disappearing below Paul’s eye-line. As Alice used the interruption to take off around the corner, the downstairs buzzer went.

  ‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’ yelled Paul, shoving Richard against the hallway wall.

  ‘Paul … ’ spluttered Richard. ‘Oh my God, you look terrible.’

  ‘Never mind that,’ said Paul, shoving Richard again. ‘Why did you attack Alice?’

  ‘Woah,’ said Richard, sliding sideways out of Paul’s reach. ‘Rest up with the fisticuffs, mate. I came round to see how you are. She’s been keeping me away.’

  ‘Do you blame her? After that fucking display?’

  ‘She wouldn’t let me near you,’ said Richard, flustered. ‘I begged and I begged. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. When she saw me downstairs she just went off on one.’ He shook his head. ‘Man … what’s her problem?’ He wiped a hand across his forehead. ‘Are you going out with her or what?’ Paul continued to stare menacingly back at him. ‘I’d watch her if I were you,’ said Richard. ‘She’s a control freak, you know? I mean, we could be talking boiled rabbits here.’