Flawless Page #2

I do to get sympathy.

War wound. The Blitz.

My wife and I, we went

for some music at Wilton's.

Very explosive performance.

Anyway, we both

survived that one,

only to find out that my wife

was living on borrowed time.

I thought you were

happily married?

Oh, I am, Miss Quinn.

And I always will be.

Are you always in the habit of

reading private correspondence?

Would you hold these

for me, please?

Correspondence?

This is more like

a diary of frustration.

"Number of Lon Di

subsidiaries worldwide 1,223."

"Number of female

Managing Directors, 0."

That first number

is not correct.

It's 1,224 now,

but the other number,

that is quite accurate.

You've succeeded

in arousing my curiosity.

Now, I'm wondering

what it is you want.

Well, I... I think the

question is, Miss Quinn, is,

what is it

that you want?

Hey, this is ridiculous.

They're... they're going

to knock over a bank

in the middle of London

in broad daylight.

I could have

your job for this.

Yeah, and they might

just give it to you.

I know that you've been

passed over six times

in the last three years

for someone less

qualified than you.

You know this has

been illuminating,

but I am really

am very, very busy.

Miss Quinn, please.

Please sit down.

Please sit down. Please.

I... I haven't got

to my point yet.

They're going

to fire you.

Excuse me?

Yes, your ingenious

Russian proposal.

How do you know

about that?

How do you know

all of my business?

Shh!

Shh!

I'm only trying to help.

You know,

it's extraordinary

the conversations people will

have in front of their cleaners.

It's like...

like we don't exist.

What conversations?

Well, I'm not a businessman,

but I certainly

got the gist of it.

What conversations?

Well, the Russians

won't accept your plan

unless it's kept secret

among senior staff...

and only

the senior staff.

They don't seem to think

that you qualify.

Well, I don't believe you.

Well, uh, you...

you're probably right.

The ramblings

of an old man, eh?

Who would notice?

Hey, this is a good bit.

Look there.

Would you like a peanut?

Oh, is MKA in?

He's just left.

That's odd.

Someone from the Prime

Minister's Office is in the lobby.

Says he has

an appointment.

Hmm.

Oh, no, that's

not right at all.

Ahem.

Well, I seem

to be the end

of the whole restaurant.

You look wonderful.

Well, I heard reinvention

was the latest craze.

Thought I'd try

it on for size.

Thank you for seeing me.

Well, don't thank me

too quickly.

Um, ahem.

It's bad news, I'm afraid.

We can't offer you a position.

Really, why not?

There's a conflict

of interests.

Lon Di is our largest client,

back to the Boer War.

We funded Ernest Ashtoncroft's

first diamond mines 70 years ago.

Well, it's done

all the time.

You simply ask their

permission to speak with me.

Say I know nothing

about it, unsolicited.

That sort of thing.

I did.

Look, and I tell you this

in confidence as an old friend.

But they're saying you're

grossly incompetent.

Claim you botched their

relations with the Russians.

That is absolutely

ridiculous.

I am sorry.

Word came down quietly you

are not to be touched by us

or in all likelihood by anyone

doing business with Lon Di.

Well, that's every

last company on earth.

You said you, um,

had something else to discuss.

Well, I... I feel

stupid now.

I was going to finally

accept your offer of dinner.

Well, that, um, would have

to be unadventurous.

Married now five years,

three rather boisterous

girls to prove it.

You should come

over one Sunday.

Mmm, good soup.

Early lunch, Miss Quinn?

Very early

and very long.

I'm taking

the afternoon off.

Placed a bet,

Miss Quinn?

Oh, I never gamble.

Not on dogs, cards,

or strangers.

You were right.

Was I?

Why do you want to steal

from the company?

Who said I did?

Hypothetically.

War and plunder,

the two most reliable

sources of income.

I didn't realize

we were at war.

In six months' time

I shall retire

to a hearty pat on the back

and a not to hearty pension,

a situation

in dire need of attention.

So money, plain

and simple?

Suppose I wanted to do

something for my wife.

Your wife

who died 15 years ago?

The one you're

happily married to?

Lovely. You did

your homework.

I guess you would.

What else

did you uncover?

That you're far

from stupid,

and you were forced to

apprentice under your father,

the one

with the drinking problem.

Oh, yes, married at 21 and years

later when your wife became ill,

you took the night job

at London Diamonds

so you could spend

your days by her side.

You never did use

those qualifications.

Clever, Miss Quinn.

Clever.

How do you know

I won't turn you in?

Are we still speaking

hypothetically?

I mean, what makes you think

you can pull off such a thing?

Well, simply because

I have a plan.

What I propose involves

the least possible risk

because we don't have to

change our normal routines.

Each night at 9:
00...

they lock the front doors,

which means,

that for 10 hours,

no one can go in

or out of the building.

They increase the security

on the main floor

but on the lower floor they

just keep these two guards,

here and here

by the lift,

which is the sole

point of access.

You intend to go

for the vault?

That's where

the diamonds are.

You can't be serious.

Generally, each evening I

start on the fourth floor

and work

me way down, see?

Nice day today.

Once through

the outer floors

I'm escorted

to the sub basement.

The next few hours are

spent on rubbish collection,

mopping, waxing, minor

repair and maintenance.

During that time,

I'll work mostly unattended.

Once an hour or so,

someone checks up on me.

Otherwise, I'm

left entirely to myself.

I mean, in theory,

I could take off all my

clothes and walk around naked.

A frightening thought,

Miss Quinn.

Don't dwell on it.

I'll try not to.

I've saved the vault

hallway for last.

The long corridor that leads

to a circular door,

behind which

lies one of the largest singular

deposits of riches on earth.

For 16 years

I've been working

within a hare's

breath of that door,

and for 16 years I've never

opened it, not once.

You couldn't if you wanted

to, not without the codes.

The codes are changed weekly

and entrusted to only two people.

Mr. Eaton, lifelong company

servant, portrait of reliability.

Rumor has it that the swiss use

his pulse to set their clocks by.

And, of course, Sir Milton

Kendrick Ashtoncroft,

aging ruler of everything

that daylight touches.

And you plan to obtain

the codes how?

That's where you come in,

Miss Quinn.

Until recently, this was

supposed to be a solo operation.

A year ago, quite by accident,

I discovered that Sir Milton kept

the codes concealed in his desk.

Then some months back,

they were gone.

Night after night,

I searched the office,

but they never turned up.

Why'd you wait?

Why not do it while

you had the chance?

Oh, I've asked myself that

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