The Limey Page #18

ELAINE (cont'd)

Do you remember the last time you saw

her?

WILSON:

Last time might as well've been the

first. I remember all the times, don't

I. Watching her grow up --

(finding the word)

in increments.

ELAINE:

She told me you were a ghost in her life.

Daddy the friendly ghost. Coming back to

haunt her.

WILSON:

Well, she twigged by the time she was

eight or nine that daddy wasn't in the

Royal Marines or doing scientific

research in the jungles of Borneo or

playing Iago in a worldwide tour of

OTHELLO.

ELAINE:

Still, you could never... do what she

wanted.

Wilson shakes his head.

WILSON:

She used to tell me she'd turn me in.

(tries to laugh about it)

Little kid. Ten year old. "If you're

naughty, Dad, I'll tell on ya." She

didn't want me sent down again, see.

When I was planning some job. "I'll tell

'em, Dad, I promise I will. Here, look,

I'm calling the Old Bill right now" --

picking up the telephone. I can see her,

the phone in her hand. Became a sort of

joke between us. Only it wasn't a joke.

ELAINE:

She never would have turned you in, not

in a million years.

WILSON:

I know that. But as time went on...

well, it wasn't a joke, was it? She had

a feeling about it -- about the last job

-- how long I'd get the hook for. Said

she wouldn't be there this time when I

got out.

DOOR opens. Thompson. Gun in hand.

CUT.

INT. HALLWAY. DAY.

Thompson leads Wilson past a row of windows. Dockyards,

harbor activity outside. Toward a door with things

stencilled on it. One of them: US DEPT. OF CUSTOMS.

INT. OFFICE.

A man named FEATHER. Black. Half sitting on the edge of a

table. Wilson is shown in.

Wilson at the door. Sizes Feather up at a glance.

WILSON:

This is where I come in.

He walks confidently in. Outside, through the window, an

image of a foreign sports car being hoisted in the air by a

crane.

There's a chair. Wilson sits in it.

Feather squints a little. Seems ready to listen to whatever

Wilson has to say.

WILSON (cont'd)

How's it going, squire, all right? Now

listen -- when I was in the nick --

second time, it was -- no, third. Third

stretch, yeah. There was this screw had

it in for me. That geezer was top of my

list. Two years after I was slung, I saw

him. He was sitting on a bench in

Holland Park. There was no one else

about. I coulda gone up behind him and

snapped his f***ing neck. But I left it.

Coulda nobbled him, but I didn't. 'Cos

what I thought I wanted wasn't what I

wanted. What I thought I was thinking

about was something else. This berk on

the bench wasn't worth my time. See what

I mean? It didn't matter. It meant sod

all in the end.

Feather has been listening to this, expressionless. Now he

raises a finger as if there's a point he wants clarified.

FEATHER:

There's one thing I don't understand.

(wants to make this clear)

The thing I don't understand... is every

motherfucking thing you're saying.

WILSON:

Look, mush, you're the guv'nor here, I

can see that, I'm on your manor now,

right. So there's no need to get out of

your pram. I'm Johnny-come-lately to all

this. Whatever the bollocks between you

and this slag Valentine, it's got nothing

to do with me. I don't wanna know.

FEATHER:

Well, I'll tell you. I believe this

Valentine screwed me out of a fair sum of

money.

WILSON:

I can well believe it. I'm sure he has

done, son. He's about as straight as a

dog's hind leg.

FEATHER:

But I can't be sure. I don't even know

who he is. He's too insulated. Too many

layers around him.

WILSON:

Your guess is as good as mine, mate. I'm

here on another matter entirely.

FEATHER:

(moves to window)

Yeah, I guess you are.

WILSON:

Good job your lot showed up when they did

or it would've been me for the high jump.

FEATHER:

That dude who works for Valentine. He's

the one sent those guys after you. You

know that.

WILSON:

Yeah. Shouldn't wonder. Must've done.

FEATHER:

So what's your beef, pal?

WILSON:

Nothing financial. Strictly personal.

(moves to window)

I can see how all this import-export

malarkey might give rise to confusion

where I'm concerned. A foreigner,

showing up unexpectedly, like.

FEATHER:

(looks at him)

It was you. Downtown.

WILSON:

(all innocent)

Eh?

FEATHER:

Because that wasn't anything to do with

me. And suspicion has been cast in my

direction.

(pondering)

Didn't make any sense. Choosing those

shitheads over me, cutting me out of the

deal, then screwing them over too.

WILSON:

No, I can reassure you on that point.

Valentine was just as surprised by that

turn of events as you.

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