The Limey Page #24

AVERY:

Has just barely managed to reach Stacy's pistol. Raises it

weakly. Points it at Wilson.

WILSON:

Seems to feel it. Turns. Locks eyes with Avery. Avery

could already have shot him. But there's a momentary sense of

recognition:
both of them just foot soldiers for fat cats --

and Avery's is not worth saving.

AVERY:

Lowers the gun. Nods in the direction Valentine went.

AVERY:

...that way...

Wilson moves on. Avery just lies there, presumably to die.

EXT. BIG SUR HOUSE. STEPS. NIGHT.

Valentine hurries down the rickety steps. Trying not to slip

in the darkness, though there are tiny Malibu lights

illuminating the steep and winding wooden framework.

EXT. BEACH. NIGHT.

A rocky cove. Valentine looks back up the way he came,

HEARING the FOOTSTEPS coming down after him. Backs away a

few paces on the slippery rocks. Falls.

Lands on the crumpled, dead body of LARRY, the bodyguard, who

was thrown off the cliff. Valentine recoils. When Wilson

appears, Valentine FIRES at him. A wild shot that only makes

Wilson duck momentarily. Valentine scrambles to his feet,

runs on.

WILSON:

Jumps down from the steps. Stops for a moment and leans his

back against the railing. Bends at the knees slightly.

THE KNIFE:

The handle is forced upward just enough to be reachable now.

WILSON:

Grimacing, pulls the knife out and discards it.

FURTHER DOWN THE BEACH

Valentine runs. Or tries to. It's dark and the ground is

treacherous. The beach runs out pretty soon. Now just

rocks. Maybe he thought he could get around the rocks on the

point at the other end. But he can't see very far ahead.

And the tide is in, water making any escape extremely

difficult. He tries to scramble over some rocks. They're

wet, slippery. He falls, cries out as he literally breaks an

ankle.

WILSON:

A dark figure. Coming into focus. Walking inexorably this

way.

VALENTINE:

Painfully rights himself. A small bone protrudes from his

broken ankle. He FIRES at Wilson, gun in one hand, other

hand gripping his wrist to try and steady it. Doing his best

to aim. But the SHOTS miss their mark.

WILSON:

Steadily coming.

VALENTINE:

Out of bullets now. Gun CLICKING crazily on empty. He

simply drops it.

WILSON:

Now stands before him.

THE TWO OF THEM:

Both breathing hard.

WILSON:

Tell me.

This is not what Valentine expected.

VALENTINE:

What.

WILSON:

Tell me.

VALENTINE:

Tell you...

WILSON:

About Jenny.

(closer)

Tell me about Jenny.

(closer)

About the deal. Whatever f***ing deal

you had to kill my daughter for when she

found out about it, you bastard.

Wilson drops to the ground too, in a passionate fury, starts

strangling Valentine.

WILSON:

Tell me. Tell me about it, you f***ing

bastard.

Easing up just enough for Valentine to sputter out a

response.

VALENTINE:

She could've had the deal! I would've

handed it to her if she wanted. I would

have given her everything.

WILSON:

Why then. Why did you do it!

They're locked in a kind of embrace. Sprayed by the waves

crashing into the rocks. Sweating and gasping and exhausted

and hurt and furious.

VALENTINE:

She didn't want to share it, she wanted

to stop it. To stop me. She said she'd

turn me in.

WILSON:

Shock of recognition on his face. At those words.

VALENTINE:

She said, "You go ahead with this, I'll

turn you in, Terry."

Wilson sits back. Panting. Totally spent. The two of them.

Both on the ground now. Whatever energy they had left drained

-- Valentine from his confession, Wilson from hearing it.

Valentine shaking, sobbing. Still not realizing the pathetic

folly of his actions.

VALENTINE:

She was serious. She would have done it.

She had the phone in her hand. She was

going to do it.

WILSON:

Knows that the girl he loved... loved Valentine, too. Having

heard the truth, the last vestige of revenge has vanished.

He gets up and walks away. Leaving the quivering shell of

Valentine behind.

CUT.

INT. BIG SUR HOUSE. LIVING ROOM. NIGHT.

Adhara wakes up. Hand to her smashed cheek and mouth. But

it's not her hand. It's Valentine's. She sort of shuffles

away from him along the floor. Sits against a wall holding

her face. Valentine sits back against an opposite wall.

They stare at each other.

CUT.

INT. PLANE. DAY.

Wilson, lost in thought. Accepts a drink from a FLIGHT

ATTENDANT. We can see it pains him to reach for it.

WILSON:

Ta.

After setting the glass down, his other hand goes to the

shoulder where his stab wound was no doubt only temporarily

dealt with.

FLASH CUTS:

WILSON. At the roadside hotel, grimacing.

ELAINE. Cleaning his wound.

Wilson rubs his shoulder. The AMERICAN LADY in the seat

beside him heard the way he said thanks to the Flight

Attendant.

LADY:

You're English.

A small beat (which he takes each time he responds).

WILSON:

Yeah, that's right.

LADY:

I can never decide what I like better.

Leaving home, or coming back.

WILSON:

Takes this in.

FLASH CUTS:

WILSON. Shaving in the mirror at his L.A. motel. He stops.

WILSON. In the car leaving Valentine's house. Fingering the

picture of Jenny.

WILSON:

I would have preferred staying home, me.

LADY:

You're a reluctant traveller, then.

Wilson nods.

FLASH CUTS:

WILSON. In the car with Elaine and Ed, driving back from Big

Sur. Everyone in their own world.

WILSON. At Ed's house. Saying goodbye.

WILSON AND ED. Shake hands.

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