LONDON SPY

Episode #5

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EXT. LONDON. VAUXHALL. MI6 HEADQUARTERS. NIGHT

The Headquarters of British Intelligence. An embassy of

secrets. Intense security. Cameras. Bomb proof walls.

A cab parks outside. A young man steps out. Mid-

twenties. Lean and handsome. He’s Danny. His clothes

are cool and casual. His hair styled.

Danny turns his back on MI6, crossing the street. We

follow him to the opposite side -

Gay clubs, bars and sex saunas, underneath railway

arches. People queuing to gain entry to the clubs.

With a Saturday-night swagger Danny bypasses the queue,

saying hi to many. Known by most. Danny gives the

bouncer a handshake. And is ushered in. A socialite.

As the door opens we do not follow Danny inside,

catching a fleeting glimpse of intense lighting.

The doors close -

EXT. VAUXHALL. RAILWAY ARCHES. DAWN

The doors are thrown open --

Danny emerges. Pupils huge. Skin sweaty. Re-presented

with the world, he seems cowed by it.

His swagger gone, Danny appears gaunt rather than lean.

His clothes are club-grimed. His hair dishevelled.

The ‘gay strip’ is quiet. A few hardened souls. A few

taxi drivers hawking trade.

To the side of the club there’s no queue, no people, just

the fencing & the hoarding, flat on the ground.

The area is deserted. The buzz is gone.

Danny tries to swallow: it’s painful. We hear the sound

of his throat, the movements, dry slow swallow of spit.

He takes from his pocket the pack of cigarettes. It’s now

utterly crumpled and smashed. He opens it.

Inside is an empty drug bag. And a single crushed

cigarette, broken in half.

Danny tries to light the broken half but the lighter

pathetically sparks with no flame.

His hands are trembling.

He gives up.

1

LONDON SPY -EP 1 -SHOOTING SCRIPT

He walks forward, looming over him is MI6: the building

means nothing to Danny. His eyes slide across it without

catching on it.

He takes out his phone. He dials. His voice is broken.

Fragmented. Slow.

DANNY (ON PHONE)

Hey guys... if you get this

message... I wanted to know... if

you were still... up... I don’t

feel like... being alone... if

you’re still up... ring me...

He hangs up. He shuffles off.

EXT. VAUXHALL. CENTRAL ROAD JUNCTION. DAWN

The enormous road junction at the heart of Vauxhall.

Normally full of traffic. Now eerie-empty.

Danny crosses into the central pedestrian reservation,

automatically trudging towards the passage under the

train tracks, on auto-pilot, heading home.

But he stops, staring at the tunnel, a route he’s taken

many times. He looks in the opposite direction, towards

the bridge & the morning sky.

Danny - surrounded and dwarfed by the huge empty roads -

lingering and deciding.

And, finally, he changes direction, walking towards the

river. Passing MI6, he doesn’t even glance at it.

EXT. LAMBETH BRIDGE. DAWN

In the middle of the deserted bridge Danny looks out

over London, The Thames & Parliament.

His beautiful-saucer-eyes dart about, perplexed by this

world. Drugs push his thoughts close to the surface.

He takes out his phone. And considers. We can see he

knows, on every level, that this is a terrible idea.

Except he does it anyway.

He dials.

The phone rings. Danny prepares what to say. The phone

is answered. Danny about to speak but he’s abruptly cut

off. We don’t hear what is said, if anything.

Danny’s stunned. Offended. Finally, he’s hurt.

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LONDON SPY -EP 1 -SHOOTING SCRIPT

In an act of frustration Danny leans back, arm behind

him, ready to throw the ‘f***ing-phone’ into the river

but he stops, frozen in this javelinesque position.

His eyes switch from the river to the phone. From

sadness and anger to pragmatic. He changes his mind.

At this point Danny realizes he’s being watched.

An early morning runner, standing some five or so

meters away. Dressed in sleek pro gear. Athletic.

Handsome. Roughly the same age as Danny.

He seems to be assessing Danny as though he were a

peculiar but not uninteresting phenomenon.

We have no idea how long he’s been there.

Danny is struck by how handsome this man is. And

straightens up, trying to return to normal society mode,

and not entirely succeeding.

He wags the phone, explaining why he didn’t throw it.

DANNY:

It would’ve been satisfying...

As he wags it the phone slips out of his sweaty fingers

and hits the pavement, smashing.

The runner and Danny stare at broken fragments. Danny

smiles, a smile becoming a laugh, a laugh becoming a

world weary sigh. The runner simply observes.

Danny crouches down and starts to pick up the pieces.

To his amazement the runner joins him. Even though it’s

pointless, and the phone can’t possibly be fixed.

With his hand full of fragments the runner carefully -

slowly - tips his small collection into Danny’s palm.

We hear the faint sound of the metallic and glass tinkle,

as though there were no other competing city sounds.

Eye to eye with this man, Danny knows not what to say.

That flint-spark of an inexplicable connection.

The runner’s voice is educated, gentle, the emphasis

and rhythm of his words unusual.

MYSTERIOUS RUNNER

Are you okay?

DANNY:

Me? I’m fine. You don’t know me

but if you did you’d know that I’m

always fine.

3

LONDON SPY -EP 1 -SHOOTING SCRIPT

The runner observes Danny’s pupils, without judgement,

and offers a sports drink affixed to his arm.

Danny accepts, with mock formality that is both wisecracking

but also trying to raise himself up a little.

DANNY:

Normally I wouldn’t drink before

sundown but, on this occasion,

to be sociable...

The runner listens, curious, to these lines and jokes.

Danny drinks - small, painful sips.

In an instinctive act of kindness the runner places a

hand on Danny’s arm. The hand lingers there. However,

the runner changes his mind. As if he’s gone too far.

Embarrassed, he abruptly leaves.

DANNY:

What about your drink?

Several strides away, the runner glances over his

shoulder, bashful and apologetic.

MYSTERIOUS RUNNER

You can keep it.

With those words he’s off. Danny’s left alone.

INT. WAREHOUSE. DAY

A huge warehouse. A maze of tall steel shelves full of

goods. Danny’s collecting orders, holding a computer

device that maps the shortest route between items.

Danny isn’t come-down sad. Distracted. Daydreaming.

And then the device bleeps angrily: “Increase speed”.

INT. WAREHOUSE. TOILET CUBICLE. DAY

Danny stands in one of the cubicles trying to urinate.

Sweating. Straining. A tiny amount of gloppy orange.

INT. WAREHOUSE. TOILET. DAY

Danny running his face under the flow of cold water at

the sink. He takes small sips.

INT/EXT. TRAIN CARRIAGE. VAUXHALL STATION. EVENING

Danny slumped against the window, returning to the centre

of London, the MI6 building, just another building.

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LONDON SPY -EP 1 -SHOOTING SCRIPT

His eyes on the London view; his thoughts are not.

EXT. DANNY’S APARTMENT. VAUXHALL. EVENING

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