INT. CHURCH. DAY

Scottie’s church. Scottie’s funeral.

Danny walking towards the lectern --

EXT. HAMPSTEAD HEATH. NIGHT (PAST)

Danny running as fast as he can towards desolate trees.

INT. CHURCH. DAY (PRESENT)

Danny stands at the lectern.

Before him many empty pews. In the front row are Claire, Sara & Pavel. From the ballroom club an older barman.

Two elderly women: regular church attendees. Behind them:

Three men in their sixties. Civil service aura. Dressed like Scottie. Exquisite English tailoring --

INT. HAMPSTEAD HEATH. WILDERNESS. NIGHT (PAST)

Scottie’s exquisite wool jacket neatly folded on the ground. Beside his leather shoes.

Red faced, out of breath, Danny drops to his knees, grabbing the jacket, hands tight on the material --

INT. CHURCH. DAY (PRESENT)

Danny’s fingers tight on index cards densely packed with clumsy handwriting.

A great deal of labour and toil.

EXT. HAMPSTEAD HEATH. WILDERNESS. NIGHT (PAST)

Sparse, delicate, effortless fountain pen handwriting, on elegant cream letter paper - addressed to Danny.

A suicide note.

As if scolded Danny lets it fall.

INT. CHURCH. DAY (PRESENT)

Under Danny’s fingers the ink on the index cards is starting to smudge. He’s unable to read his first line. Instead, he looks up, at one of the empty pews --

INT. CHURCH. DAY (PAST)

Same church, same pew.

The moment from episode 4. Scottie and Danny seated. Scottie offers Danny his hand. Danny accepts.

INT. CHURCH. DAY (PRESENT)

Danny’s eyes on the empty pew --

EXT. HAMPSTEAD HEATH. WILDERNESS. NIGHT (PAST)

Danny’s eyes on the ‘sadness’ tree.

The shadowy form of a man hanging from a low branch.

INT. CHURCH. DAY (PRESENT)

Danny at the lectern.

And still he can’t speak.

We see Sara worrying in the front row, looking to Pavel, unsure whether she should intervene.

Danny’s thoughts revert to the past --

EXT. HAMPSTEAD HEATH. WILDERNESS. NIGHT (PAST)

Danny’s face pressed against the gnarled bark as though listening for a heartbeat.

INT. CHURCH. DAY (PRESENT)

Danny pulls his thoughts back to the present. He ignores his smudged index cards. Pushing them aside.

Words that follow are more like interior dialogue, nudged out from his head, rather than regular speech.

DANNY

I have a question.

(beat)

How do we live without the people we love?

(eyes on empty pew)

I can hear his reply --

(Danny listens)

“We must figure this question out for ourselves.” He’s right. He was always right. Except, my friend, I don’t want to know.

EXT. LONDON. THAMES RIVERBANK. DAWN (PAST)

River shoreline. Centre of London. Beside the Oxo Tower.

Danny, dressed as he was on the heath, sits on the sand in front of a gentle ebb of water. He hasn’t slept.

He takes off his shoes. He’s walked all night. He puts aside the trainers, an emblem of youth.

A bleak dawn.

He stands, edging into the freezing Thames. The murky water washes over Danny’s feet.

We hear music from the church, not a hymn, something Scottie would have loved --

INT. CHURCH. DAY (PRESENT)

Danny seated with Sara, Pavel & Claire.

Continuing from the previous scene we see the musician at the front of the church, playing the piece of music.

Which continues into --

EXT. HAMPSTEAD HEATH. WILDERNESS. DAWN (PAST)

Background: a blur of police activity in the trees.

Foreground: on the grass, the delicate suicide note, ripped into ragged, angry fragments. Discarded by Danny.

The music from the church plays over this.

The shards flutter in the wind, into the cold grey sky, dispersing across the heath.

And the music stops.

PAST/PRESENT SEQUENCE ENDS

INT. CHURCH. RECEPTION. DAY (PRESENT)

A buffet spread. Far too much food for the number of guests. Most of it untouched.

Claire talks to Pavel and Sara.

The civil servants huddle as a group.

The barman talks to the elderly ladies. Danny is with them but removed, his thoughts elsewhere.

INT. CHURCH. RECEPTION. DAY

Reception over. Danny alone with Claire. He surveys the leftover food. Untouched remnants. Dips discolouring.

Professor Marcus Shaw enters. Dressed formally. In black.

Claire and Danny are both surprised to see him. He approaches. Claire guesses his intentions.

CLAIRE

Marcus, this isn’t the time --

MARCUS

Yes it is, Claire. It’s exactly the right time.

Marcus turns to Danny, addressing him, but addressing the room in general, careful with diction and volume.

MARCUS (CONT’D)

I’ve destroyed my copy of Alex’s research.

(beat)

You should destroy yours.

Marcus speaks as though he believes the room is bugged. And that whoever was behind Scottie’s death is listening.

MARCUS (CONT’D)

You asked for my advice. There it is. You can take it. Or not.

And then, again, for emphasis and clarity.

MARCUS (CONT’D)

But I won’t help you --

CLAIRE

(interrupting)

That’s enough.

Silence.

Danny and Marcus stand opposite each other - as opposites. One a realist. One an idealist.

Marcus turns and walks away.

Danny has to say something, to try and change the Professor’s mind. He cannot let him walk out the room.

But Danny says nothing.

Marcus at the door, hesitates. He looks back.

MARCUS

It was... a nice idea.

With that, he leaves. The door shuts.

When Danny looks back he sees that Claire is inscrutable.

INT. DANNY’S APARTMENT. BEDROOM. DAY

Alone, Danny sitting on the floor, in the corner of the bedroom. The room stripped bare.

He runs his hand along the coarse carpet. Fine flecks of dust rise up: all that remains.

Danny pulls back the corner of the carpet, exposing the floorboards. Underneath a loose board is an album.

Instead of photos it contains press cuttings concerning Alex’s death. Meticulously clipped and saved.

Each of the articles is annotated with red ink. Sentences underlined. With the repeating line of commentary:

“This is a lie”

Page after page. The same commentary.

INT. DANNY’S APARTMENT. HALLWAY. DAY

Album under his arm, Danny walks through, contemplating an era over. He examines damage from a raucous party.

INT. DANNY’S APARTMENT. BATHROOM. DAY

Danny at the window, looking out --

EXT. DANNY’S APARTMENT BUILDING. COURTYARD. DAY

The surveillance apartment, also empty. Shutters open.

EXT. DANNY’S APARTMENT BUILDING. COURTYARD. DAY

Danny in the courtyard, standing at the window to the empty surveillance apartment, peering in.

There’s a gap under the window. Emboldened, Danny pries his fingers under the frame and lifts it up.

INT. SURVEILLANCE APARTMENT. LIVING ROOM. DAY

Danny nimbly climbs inside, discovering --

Imprint lines on the carpet where heavy equipment had once been placed. Not ordinary furniture. Strange shapes.

INT. SURVEILLANCE APARTMENT. BEDROOM. DAY

Paint scarred by tape. A collage once covered this wall. Danny peels off a remaining strip of masking tape. It coils lifelessly in his hand. A trace of text underneath.

A knock on the window. Danny’s startled. Sara is outside, in the courtyard, beckoning him to get out.

EXT. DANNY’S APARTMENT BUILDING. DAY

Danny, Pavel, Sara on the street. Scottie’s car parked nearby, loaded with a few of Danny’s belongings.

Pavel and Danny hug. Sara doesn’t wait her turn, joining them. Tender & sad. The only one crying should be Pavel.

PAVEL

Sorry... Goodbyes...

DANNY

I’ll see you all the time!

SARA

You better believe it.

But they don’t believe it, sensing their time as intense friends is over. As they separate, Sara whispers:

SARA (CONT’D)

Be careful.

INT/EXT. SCOTTIE’S CAR / SCOTTIE’S HOUSE. DAY

Danny parks Scottie’s car, now his car, in the drive.

And sits there.

EXT. SCOTTIE’S HOUSE. DAY

Danny, holding a box of belongings, before the house.

And stands there.

INT. SCOTTIE’S HOUSE. HALLWAY. DAY

Danny regarding the boxes, the album, the bin bag of clothes - out of place in Scottie’s immaculate home.

INT. SCOTTIE’S HOUSE. LIVING ROOM. DAY

Danny exploring the bookshelves. He picks out books that catch his eye, flicking through.

Danny is about to put the last book back when he notices in the space behind where this book was kept --

A glass jam jar. Danny reaches in, takes it out.

Holding it to the light, we see, inside the jar, a large flake of mania-blue-paint-work from Raphael’s blue room.

Blue and blue alone. Preserved in this wax sealed jam jar. Danny on the verge of crying.

EXT. SCOTTIE’S GARDEN. EVENING

Wrapped up, Danny sits in the corner of Scottie’s barren winter garden regarding this house.

He toys with the cylinder, tied around his neck on a piece of string like a gap year student travel trinket.

INT. SCOTTIE’S HOUSE. STUDY. NIGHT

Danny at the computer. He loads Alex’s research. A stream of baffling numbers.

Danny presses ‘Print’.

INT. SCOTTIE’S HOUSE. STUDY. NIGHT

The printer spewing out the research. Danny collates the pages, binding the research.

INT. SCOTTIE’S HOUSE. STUDY. DAWN

Danny has produced fifty or so manuscripts. They’re stacked. Addressed. Neat & careful work.

EXT. POST BOX. HAMPSTEAD. DAY

Danny sending several manuscripts abroad to international newspapers. NY Times, La Monde, etc.

EXT. SECOND POST BOX. LONDON. DAY

Danny in the centre of town, posting manuscripts.

EXT. THIRD POST BOX. LONDON. DAY

Contrasting location. Danny takes the last manuscripts from the boot of Scottie’s car. He posts them.

All gone.

EXT. THAMES RIVERSIDE. DAY

Danny sits at the bench where he once waited for Alex.

Detective Taylor arrives, alone, holding her copy of the manuscript that Danny produced.

She assesses the location - the MI6 building, the river pathway - before sitting down.

DETECTIVE TAYLOR

This is where you two met.

Not a question. She seems in no particular rush. A melancholy energy about the scene.

She glances through the manuscript. Danny is hopeful. But she hands the document to Danny. He’s confused.

DETECTIVE TAYLOR (CONT’D)

Look closely.

As Danny studies the pages, Detective Taylor observes him with the nearest to tenderness we’ve seen.

Close on the pages: a series of random equations cut and pasted together. Every six pages the mass of numbers repeat. A worthless document.

DANNY

This isn’t what I gave you.

DETECTIVE TAYLOR

But this is what I have.

Danny about to suggest some plan but she speaks first.

DETECTIVE TAYLOR (CONT’D)

I visited the nurse who took your blood sample.

For the first time she allows Danny a glimmer of her character, wry, thoughtful and practical.

DETECTIVE TAYLOR (CONT’D)

I was curious. Because it’s not procedure. So I asked a straightforward question. “Why did you do it?” And it’s not what he said. This man was afraid.

(beat)

Afterwards, I’d barely walked out the door and my phone rang. It’s my superiors demanding to know why I’m interrogating him. And you know what I said? “No reason”. It wasn’t much. But it’s as far as I’m prepared to go.

Danny understands. She believes. She just won’t help.

DETECTIVE TAYLOR (CONT’D)

Fifteen years a detective. All the cases I’ve solved... When accounts are written about the death of this spy, I’m going to end up as the simple minded copper.

We should love her, in this moment, as she understands her entire career will be defined by this case.

INT. UCL. CLAIRE’S OFFICE. DAY

In an impressive office Danny sits in front of Claire. On her table is a manuscript. She flicks through. Closes it.

Says nothing.

Danny reaches over, takes it, examining it - the pages doctored as Detective Taylor’s manuscript had been.

The numbers repeat every six pages.

DANNY

I’ll get you another one.

CLAIRE

With Scottie we had a chance. Without him we don’t.

Danny stops examining the pages. He looks at Claire.

DANNY

(gentle)

I don’t accept that. We knew him better than anyone. What would he have done?

And now a glimpse of why she’s head of UCL.

CLAIRE

You’re confused, Danny. Between trying to prove how much you love him. And trying to prove a conspiracy. You’re confused. And I wonder if you haven’t always been.

DANNY

What’s that mean?

CLAIRE

Scottie was sentimental about you.

And she’s not.

CLAIRE (CONT’D)

You’re doing this for him. He was doing this for you.

A moment of softness.

CLAIRE (CONT’D)

Maybe I was doing it for him.

Tough again.

CLAIRE (CONT’D)

But it’s not real, Danny. It won’t work. Whatever you do. Whatever you try.

(emphatic)

It wont work.

Nudging the manuscript aside, she opens her drawer, retrieving an envelope of her own.

It’s been sent to her, stamped, addressed, etc. She places it in front of Danny.

CLAIRE (CONT’D)

He sent it to me.

Inside is Danny’s notebook from the factory. His teenage jottings. Sketches. Poems. Lyrics. Etc.

Danny had no idea Scottie had even taken it from the abandoned factory. He holds it, emotional.

Claire stands.

CLAIRE (CONT’D)

Walk with me.

INT. UCL. LIBRARY. DAY

Through the entrance, bustling with students, the energy of hopes and ambitions, towards --

The central chamber with many levels, a cathedral to education and knowledge. Danny and Claire stand together.

Not a fusty library: modern with glass and sunlight.

The sound of pages turning. Books being moved. The scratch of pens. Surreptitious student whispers.

She allows the location to do all the work.

Danny remains guarded. Claire sad at his mistrust.

CLAIRE

I’ll be here, when you’re ready.

She turns and leaves.

Danny lingers, listening to the enticing library noises --

INT. SCOTTIE’S HOUSE. GUEST BEDROOM. NIGHT

A disturbing noise --

Danny sits up in bed. The middle of the night.

INT. SCOTTIE’S HOUSE. STARIWAY. NIGHT

Danny descends the stairs, investigating, from room to room, unable to find anything amiss.

The noise again. Coming from outside.

INT. SCOTTIE’S HOUSE. HALLWAY. NIGHT

Danny unlocks the front door. He opens it --

EXT. SCOTTIE’S HOUSE. NIGHT

Danny steps out, peering at the deserted street, before noticing that the garage door is slightly raised.

Uneasy, he moves towards the garage, lifting up the door. The hinge isn’t oiled and screeches - the noise we heard.

INT. SCOTTIE’S GARAGE. NIGHT

Danny turns on the lights, they hum and flicker, revealing no one.

The garage is full of Scottie’s curious odds and ends.

And a box marked fragile: newly deposited, taped up, sitting in the middle of the space.

Danny crouches, nervous, breaking the seal, opening it. He stares into it, troubled.

We still haven’t seen what the box contains.

INT. SCOTTIE’S HOUSE. STUDY. NIGHT

The box carried inside, by the desk. Danny tips the contents onto the floor. Out of it spill --

The envelopes he delivered. His handwriting. The stamps. Post marks. All collected. And returned. All fifty.

He rips one open. A neatly bound manuscript. Except all the pages are blank. The research is gone.

He opens another, and another, and --

INT. SCOTTIE’S HOUSE. STUDY. NIGHT

The fifty blank manuscripts on the floor around Danny.

Refusing to give up, he’s at the computer. The cylinder is in the drive. On screen is Alex’s research.

Danny attaches it to an e-mail.

INT. SCOTTIE’S HOUSE. STUDY. DAY

Bleary eyed, Danny at the computer. His ‘sent box’ shows the hundreds of documents he’s mailed overnight.

His inbox shows no replies.

Danny hears the sound of a car in the drive.

He stands, walking to the window --

EXT. SCOTTIE’S HOUSE. DAY

A bashed up car parked in the drive.

A woman, in her fifties, is helping a man in his seventies, towards the front door.

They move slowly. The man appears infirm.

INT/EXT. SCOTTIE’S HOUSE. FRONT DOOR. DAY

The doorbell rings.

Danny lingers, near the stairs, refusing to answer.

The doorbell rings again.

Danny again, doesn’t move. But he’s tormented.

The doorbell rings a third time.

Unable to stop himself, Danny opens the door.

A couple stand before him.

The man, in his seventies, has part of his throat missing. He breathes through a plastic tube affixed to where his larynx once was. A sad, soft wheezing sound.

The woman, in her fifties, has beauty but no warmth. Both rough edged. Both smartly attired in inexpensive clothes.

Danny displays hostile unease.

INT. SCOTTIE’S HOUSE. KITCHEN. DAY

The three sit at the table. The awkward silence is punctuated with the slow-sad rhythm of the man’s wheeze.

Danny refuses to make polite chit chat. No tea, no coffee, no hospitality of any kind.

The atmosphere is excruciating.

The woman is about to make an observation, regarding the lovely kitchen, or whatever, when Danny cuts her off.

DANNY

How did you find me?

Danny studies their reaction carefully.

WOMAN

You gave us this address.

The woman takes out her address book, offering it to Danny. He views it, as he views them, with suspicion.

Danny glances inside the book: he finds his name and Scottie’s address. Crinkled and faded.

Wary of its apparent plausibility, he returns it.

DANNY

Eleven years.

WOMAN

(weakly)

A long time.

DANNY

And now?

MUM

Dan, your Dad’s dying.

These are his parents.

Danny’s instinct is sympathy. He guards against it, looking at his dad’s sick-yellow-tinged eyes. A body wracked by anger, booze and cigarettes.

MUM (CONT’D)

We weren’t much as parents.

Danny realizes he’s being sucked into an exchange he doesn’t even believe to be real. He pulls back.

DANNY

You read about me in the paper?

MUM

We read about you.

DANNY

But that’s not why you’re here?

She doesn’t seem to understand. And is about to answer --

When his dad’s breathing interrupts. Danny’s mother needs to clean the pipe. Phlegm. And mucus. It’s graphic.

Danny can’t decide - could this be real?

DANNY (CONT’D)

You need money?

MUM

No.

DANNY

No?

MUM

No.

Danny muses. Incredulous.

MUM (CONT’D)

This was a mistake.

She stands, helping her husband up - they’re leaving.

Danny allows them to.

INT. SCOTTIE’S HOUSE. HALLWAY. DAY

Danny watching his parents leave. He stands at the back of the hall. The front door opens.

Some deeper childhood connection pulls at Danny. He can’t allow it to end like this. Despite his better judgement.

DANNY

Tell me why.

His mum turns to Danny.

DANNY (CONT’D)

Why now?

Maintaining a hard line.

DANNY (CONT’D)

Why today?

MUM

Weeks, that’s all he’s got left.

That revelation causes Danny to rethink.

DANNY

(without conviction)

We’ve said goodbye.

MUM

Want to do a better job of it?

Danny desperately does.

MUM (CONT’D)

There’s something we’d like to show you.

INT/EXT. DANNY’S PARENTS CAR / LONDON. DAY

A beat-up car. Danny’s mum driving. His dad in the passenger seat. Danny in the back.

A family.

Danny snoops through the items in the backseat pocket. A take away menu. A pack of gum. A tatty street map.

Yet at this ordinariness Danny seems to falter, becoming paranoid and unsure.

DANNY

If this a lie please stop the car and let me out. Because I’ve been through too much for this to be another lie.

(beat)

I won’t be angry. It’s not your fault. Just stop the car. And let me out.

(beat)

But if you drive me home, when I gave you this chance...

(beat)

Mum, is this is a lie?

He looks at his mum in the rear view mirror. She looks at him in the rear view mirror. And does not stop the car.

EXT. EAST LONDON. TERRACE STREET. DAY

Danny stands outside his childhood home. A row of terrace houses, once near-worthless now property-boom-gentrified.

Danny follows his parents inside, past the tidy front garden, with some flower pots. A welcome mat.

INT. DANNY’S CHILDHOOD HOUSE. LIVING ROOM. DAY

Danny stands in a neat, clean, ordinary room. A television. Some DVDs on the bookshelves. Cookbooks.

Three separate geraniums planted in a single decorative rectangular pot.

His mum helps his dad to a comfy chair, adapted to his physical needs with hospital equipment.

His mum takes up an ordinary digital camera. Busy with the timer. Checking with Danny.

DANNY’S MUM

Alright if I?

Danny can’t form a response, positive or negative.

INT. DANNY’S CHILDHOOD HOUSE. LIVING ROOM. DAY

An awkward & bizarre family photo. Danny next to his dad in the chair. His mum on the other side.

The camera on the shelf. The flash --

INT. DANNY’S CHILDHOOD HOUSE. LIVING ROOM. DAY

Danny seated near his dad. Larynx or not, these men have nothing to say to each other.

His mum enters with a tray of tea and classy biscuits. She places it on the coffee table.

Danny picks up the porcelain milk urn shaped like a cow. He pours, fascinated, as the milk flows through the cow’s mouth into a dainty cup.

Danny continues to pour until it spills over. Even as it overflows, he doesn’t stop. Milk puddle growing larger.

His parents stare.

DANNY

(gentle)

I wish this could be true.

Danny puts the urn down. He stares at his dad wheezing, with yellow tinged eyes. At his mum.

Danny’s attention concentrates on the geraniums behind her. He stands and walks to them. Touching their leaves.

Then, taking hold of the base of one of the plants, Danny gently lifts the geranium clean out of the decorative pot. It emerges from the loose soil easily.

He places it on the table.

The root system is smooth & precise. It was re-potted recently. And its roots haven’t spread.

Danny repeats this for the other plants so they’re side by side. All three recently moved from plastic pots.

Danny turns to his parents. His mum is about to speak. Danny raises a finger to his lips. No more lies.

Danny studies the room.

DANNY (CONT’D)

People can change this much. For real, I mean.

He looks at his dad.

DANNY (CONT’D)

You’re not dying, are you?

His wheezing, although exactly the same sound, now feels less sad, and a little more menacing.

DANNY (CONT’D)

Not right now. Not next week.

Her respectability slipping. Roughness creeping back in.

MUM

They’re scary people, Dan. They know everything about us. Every thing we ever done wrong. What-did-you-do? This isn’t like pinching stuff from the shops.

DANNY

Why am I here?

And in a flash of anger. Shrill and sharp.

MUM

Why are we here? Being made to do this? Being threatened? What have you dragged us into?

His mum continues speaking, vicious tongued, but Danny stops listening, instead, observing the movement of her lips, her frown, a particular flush to her neck.

He’s seen it countless times before. But this time it has no impact. As she finishes we fade back in.

MUM (CONT’D)

And you have the cheek to ask:

(imitating)

Why am I here?

And in this speech we have a potted history of Danny’s childhood. An angry mum interested only in herself.

Understanding that there’s no way on earth this woman would want a family photo Danny turns to the camera.

He picks it up. Heavier than it looks. He checks the photo on the display.

On screen we see the awkward and bizarre family photo.

With curiosity, not aggression, Danny breaks the camera apart snapping the shell, revealing a high tech interior.

We can’t be sure & Danny can see that neither of his parents know what it really is. He puts it down.

About to leave. But a thought strikes him.

DANNY

I always wanted to know...

Wouldn’t it have been easier to love me?

His mum is less aggressive now.

MUM

I can’t say why we never did.

Danny puts a gentle hand on his mum’s cheek. She’s surprised.

DANNY

(emotional)

I’m not angry anymore.

But he is sad. At the confirmed absence of real parents.

He walks towards his dad. The man is frail, and afraid, expecting to be punched, to reap what he sowed.

Instead, Danny kisses his cheek. And sheds a tear.

EXT. DANNY’S CHILDHOOD HOUSE. FRONT GARDEN & STREET. DAY

Danny walking away from the house. When he glances back his mum has already shut the front door.

They’ll never see each other again.

Understanding that fact, Danny takes a beat to say goodbye to this street - this place - before continuing on his way. He takes out his phone.

It’s stopped working. The screen is blank. He tries to turn it on. Nothing. Takes out the battery, tries again.

The phone’s dead. Danny’s troubled.

He touches the cylinder around his neck --

INT. SCOTTIE’S HOUSE. STUDY. DAY

At the computer Danny slots in the data stick. Only to discover it’s been wiped clean.

Danny accesses his e-mail. His account has been purged. None of the sent messages. Nothing in his inbox.

Nothing remains.

And then an email appears. The only one in his inbox. Sender: unknown. No text. Just an attachment.

Danny presses on the attachment.

On screen we see the bizarre family photo taken only a few hours ago. Danny. Mum. Dad.

A provocation. An explanation.

Suddenly the printer comes to life. And prints a colour copy of the family portrait.

Danny sits back, tight with anger. And notices that --

Every book on the shelves has been turned upside down.

Amazed, Danny stands, walking down the length of the bookshelves, only to find, incongruous among Scottie’s first editions -- the photo album of press cuttings.

INT. SCOTTIE’S HOUSE. STUDY. DAY

Danny ripping out pages from the album of press cuttings. He feeds them into the shredder.

The black and white text spews out in thin lines. “This is a lie” reduced to thin red streaks.

Danny feeds in his family photo.

INT. SCOTTIE’S HOUSE. STUDY. DAY

Danny sitting on the floor. Opposite him is a mountainous heap of shredded press clippings.

And now - truly - nothing remains.

Danny’s exhausted. A spent force. It’s over.

INT. COMMUNITY CENTRE. ROOM. EVENING

Danny at his regular HIV support group meeting. On the whiteboard we see info about employment laws and HIV.

A new attendee. A young man, only 17 years old, shy and embarrassed. The friendly chair addresses this young man.

CHAIR

I’d like us to welcome Ryan.

There’s applause.

CHAIR (CONT’D)

A lot of people don’t speak until they’ve been a few times. So you shouldn’t feel any pressure. But I wanted to give you the chance.

Most eyes on Ryan - friendly - a few don’t look, deliberately, not wanting him to feel under pressure.

Ryan struggling with what to say. Such a familiar reaction no one is surprised. Everyone empathetic.

CHAIR (CONT’D)

And remember there’s no point talking unless you feel able to tell the truth.

(beat)

Maybe you’re not ready?

Ryan shakes his head. Not ready.

Danny sits forward.

DANNY

I’ll go.

Everyone in the group is pleasantly surprised, as though these were among the first words Danny has spoken.

GROUP CHAIR

Danny.

Danny considers where to begin.

FLASH TO:

EXT. VAUXHALL BRIDGE. DAWN (PAST)

Danny on the bridge, that morning. He turns to see Alex.

The first time. That first look.

FLASH BACK TO:

INT. COMMUNITY CENTRE. ROOM. EVENING (PRESENT)

The group in stunned silence. They all believe him.

Danny has finished his summary. He’s holding the cylinder. He puts it back, around his neck.

Finally, the oldest member of the group, a black man in his seventies, speaks out, with gravitas.

OLDEST GUY

What are you going to do now?

The first time he’s articulated his defeat aloud:

DANNY

I’m going to do nothing.

INT. COMMUNITY CENTRE. CORRIDOR. EVENING

Danny leaving the session.

In the corridor, waiting for their seventeen year old son, are Ryan’s parents.

Mother and father side by side, as if waiting to pick their child up from after-school music practice.

We wonder if they’re angry, disapproving, ashamed.

The parents walk with their son, silently. And as they walk out, the mother rests a hand on her son’s shoulder.

A family.

INT. SCOTTIE’S HOUSE. STUDY. NIGHT

Danny crouching over the heap of shredded pages. He picks out the shredded colour lines of his family photo.

INT. SCOTTIE’S HOUSE. STUDY. NIGHT

On a flat sheet of card Danny’s positioning the strips.

INT. SCOTTIE’S HOUSE. STUDY. NIGHT

Danny has assembled and glued down all the vertical strips of his ‘family photo’.

Except he’s wilfully misaligned the strips. Mum is mingled with Dad is mingled with Danny.

A family messed up.

EXT. SCOTTIE’S HOUSE. NIGHT

Danny getting into Scottie’s car. He has the copy of fake research manuscript. And the mixed up family photo --

EXT. MOTORWAY. NIGHT

Danny driving along the motorway at night.

EXT. MANSION. NIGHT

Danny driving towards the mansion.

EXT. MANSION. GARDENS. DRIVEWAY. NIGHT

Danny getting out of car, holding a copy of the research manuscript and the messed up family portrait.

The mansion is in darkness.

Danny turns towards the intimidating front doors.

EXT. MANSION. FRONT DOORWAY. NIGHT

Frances opens the doors, inscrutable as ever, except, perhaps for the faintest trace of admiration.

FRANCES

I rather thought it might be you.

She looks him over, registering his seriousness of purpose. And the man himself - older, wiser, sadder.

DANNY

Is it too late to talk?

FRANCES

(with sadness)

Too late? Perhaps it is.

She steps back, leaving the doors open for him.

Danny enters the mansion.

INT. MANSION. GRAND HALLWAY. NIGHT

Frances less formally dressed compared to episode two. Not hiding behind any imposing outfit.

At the top of the stairs, looking down, stands Charles, dressed in moth-eaten British country tweed.

The nanny appears to the other side, staring at Danny with grave concern.

Behind Danny, the powerful figure of the groundsman arrives from outside.

He shuts the main doors.

Danny waits, pinned between these four sets of eyes.

A noise: a crack like thunder.

Charles has brought the tip of his walking stick down hard on the floor as if to cleave this house in two.

Frances is untroubled by her husband’s anger, turning to him, soothing an agitated child:

FRANCES

What harm can it do?

Charles speaks. For the first time. Slowly. Like a rusted machine coming to life.

CHARLES

What good can it do?

Frances responds, partly to him, partly to herself.

FRANCES

What good? What possible good? What good can any of us do? Better leave him be? He’s just a boy?

Is she even speaking about Danny?

To their surprise Charles begins to laugh. Horribly.

CHARLES

Just a stupid boy.

Charles disappears into the gloom, taking his horrible laugh with him. Frances appears shaken.

She looks at the groundsman, some signal given.

The groundsman steps forward and pats Danny down. Car keys. Wallet. The fake research manuscript.

And the reassembled family photo on the card.

The manuscript and photo are handed to Frances. She’s regained her composure.

FRANCES

I take it there’s something you wish to discuss?

(studying Danny)

More than that...

(amazed)

You intend to accuse me?

Deliberate resonance, in Danny’s mind, with the funeral:

DANNY

I have a question.

FRANCES

A question.

(considers)

I’ll permit you a question.

(beat)

But just one.

Danny understands that she means to enforce it literally.

She turns, walking towards the Grand Hall.

Danny passes the Nanny. He stares at her.

She observes the intensity of his glance, fearful of Danny’s venture, but unable to intervene.

She turns and leaves, disappearing into the darkness. Danny watches her go.

The groundsman remains close behind.

INT. MANSION. GRAND HALL. NIGHT

They pass through the plastic sheeting, shadows and scaffolding into the other half of the room.

The Groundsman has followed them, standing at the back, intending to stay. Frances dismisses him.

FRANCES

That will be all.

He doesn’t want to leave. The master-servant power dynamic becomes ambiguous.

Danny wonders if this man is merely a Groundsman.

Frances holds her stare. On the verge of repeating the order. A touch of humiliation about the necessity.

Reluctantly the Groundsman retires. Into the shadows.

Yet they do not feel alone.

Danny has the theatre of this space. Frances waits for him to speak. And suddenly Danny’s confidence falters.

In a remarkable reversal from their previous encounter, Frances is no longer hostile.

She starts to build a fire in the old fireplace.

Danny watches. She glances back at him.

He walks forward, joining her.

INT. MANSION. GRAND HALL. NIGHT

The two of them building the fire. She observes the way he methodically spirals the fire-starting coils of paper.

FRANCES

I see some of his technique.

They light the fire together from opposite sides. The flames spread quickly.

Frances sits beside it, on a low cushioned stool. Danny does the same. They’re close to the fire and each other.

An intimate corner in this vast strange house.

FRANCES (CONT’D)

We both loved him.

DANNY

Yes.

FRANCES

Can’t we pretend, for a while, that’s all we need to say?

But the silence cannot hold.

Danny’s eyes rest on her hands. He reaches out for one.

She’s surprised. But after consideration she allows him to take it. He concentrates on her palm, not for any literal reason, as if trying to get closer to her.

FRANCES (CONT’D)

You always did have something of the mystic about you. Fortune teller-soothsayer, a person who knows nothing yet sees everything.

DANNY

Alex was the last person to hold your hand.

FRANCES

(with delicate lethality)

A question?

DANNY

A statement.

Frances casts her mind back --

FRANCES

Yes. Yes he was.

FLASH TO:

EXT. MANSION. GROUNDS. MAZE. DAY (PAST)

Close on Frances’s hand around Alex’s little hand.

They walk side by side through the maze.

FLASH BACK TO:

INT. MANSION. GRAND HALLWAY. NIGHT (PRESENT)

Still holding Frances’s hand Danny moves to his question.

DANNY

You blame me for his death.

FRANCES

(with delicate lethality)

A question?

DANNY

A statement.

FRANCES

Yes. I do.

DANNY

How can you blame me unless you know why he was killed?

Frances takes back her hand. She’s impressed.

FRANCES

It is... a good question.

Danny picks up the research manuscript as though it were vital evidence. He hands it to Frances.

Wanting to see what she’ll do with it.

Frances takes the manuscript.

And without examining it, tosses the papers into the fire. The meaningless numbers burn, turning to ash.

They both watch them burn for a moment. An admission.

Frances stands and pours herself a measure of brandy. She looks to Danny to see if he wants one.

Danny stands, slowly - unsure what the implications are. He joins her but refuses a drink.

DANNY

(changing his mind)

Actually, I will.

She pours him one. They sip.

FRANCES

(without anger)

For all your efforts, all your loss, all your grief. And sacrifice. You have nothing.

The reference to Scottie is tremendously painful.

FRANCES (CONT’D)

You accept that I’m continuing this conversation solely for my own personal reasons?

DANNY

Which are?

FRANCES

It’s very important to me that you understand how much I loved my son.

Danny wonders if she’s quite sane.

DANNY

Show me his room.

Frances doesn’t react.

Danny’s eyes concentrate on the necklace we glimpsed in episode two, which Frances would occasionally and instinctively touch, unaware she was doing so.

Danny reaches out, slowly, carefully towards her neck.

Frances doesn’t flinch.

He takes hold of the silver chain around her neck. He pulls it up, from beneath her shirt, revealing --

An aged silver key.

In a mirroring of the action, Frances reaches out, slowly, towards Danny’s neck.

Danny doesn’t flinch.

She lifts the string from around his neck, pulling from under his shirt the silver cylinder.

The two stand, examining each other’s prized possession. Frances admires the cylinder, proud of its craftsmanship.

Danny’s fingers are on the key --

INT. MANSION. HALLWAY. NIGHT

The silver key slots into a lock.

We’re at a door we’ve never seen before. A corridor we’ve never seen. In near darkness.

Frances, looks at Danny, offering him a last chance.

FRANCES

You’ve always underestimated the task ahead of you. A peculiar strength, as it turns out.

(beat)

If we go inside I cannot promise to know where we’ll end up.

The door unlocks. Danny walks through to --

INT. MANSION. SECRET STUDY. NIGHT

A remarkable study.

Across all the walls - floor to ceiling - are blackboards, covered in chalk equations.

Even more notable there are blackboards across the ceiling, also covered in equations.

The writing should be precise and small so that the overall effect is beautiful. Numbers, numbers everywhere.

A desk in the middle of the room - modern, steel, austere. A steel chair in front of it.

On the desk a glass filled with sharp pencils. A stack of papers. Each paper filled with more neat numbers.

In this space, this room, nothing soft. Nothing comfortable. And nothing high tech.

Several ladders, of different lengths, to reach the top of the blackboards. And the ceiling.

Frances is proud and scared of this room.

FRANCES

Alistair spent more time in this room than any other.

Frances walks to the boards, covered with Alex’s writing, his numbers, equations are preserved: we see how precious they are to her. Many years old. A museum to his mind.

With each footstep chalk dust falls from the numbers on the ceiling.

Danny tilts his head upwards, watching the dust fall --

FLASH TO:

INT. DANNY’S APARTMENT. BEDROOM. NIGHT (PAST)

At night, Danny and Alex are in bed, on their back, looking up at the cracked plaster ceiling --

A light white dust falls due to the sex going on in the room above. Rhythmic vibrations.

Danny finds it ridiculous, embarrassed by the state of his abode. But Alex seems to react differently --

Solemn, he closes his eyes, allowing the dust to settle on his face --

FLASH BACK TO:

INT. MANSION. SECRET STUDY. NIGHT (PRESENT)

As the first particles of chalk dust settle on Danny’s face he’s hit by grief & anger.

Moving sharply, he picks up one of the board cleaners, intending to wipe the blackboards clean.

Frances moves swiftly, grabbing his wrist, stopping him.

DANNY

How do you know?

She’s not strong enough to hold his arm. The board cleaner touches the blackboard, Danny begins to wipe, the precious numbers reducing to chalk dust.

DANNY (CONT’D)

How?

More precious numbers disappearing.

FRANCES

(desperate)

Please!

But Danny doesn’t stop.

FRANCES (CONT’D)

Because he’s my spy!

Danny stops. No more numbers destroyed.

FRANCES (CONT’D)

I made him. A spy.

Frances collects herself. She moves away from Danny. And then, composed again:

FRANCES (CONT’D)

I told you that my husband was an important man. An important man, with a second rate mind. We were at Cambridge together. The tutors who recruited him were as blind to my talents as they were to his flaws. None-the-less, in the gentlemen’s club of MI6, Charles flourished. While I was relegated to hosting dinners and cocktail parties for his spies.

FLASH TO:

INT. MANSION. DINING ROOM. NIGHT (PAST)

A grand spy dinner.

From Frances’ point of view, looking out, down the full length of this silver service table.

Servants. Art on the walls. The house in splendour.

At the far end of the table, a distant blur, is Charles.

The men seated either side are discussing, entertaining, some flirting with other men’s wives.

We follow Frances’s glance from man to man, from spy to spy, picking out their gestures, their manner.

One of the men, a heavy drinker, large-set, laughs raucously. Everyone turns to look.

Except for two men who continue their conversation and do not react. Frances notices. No one else does.

INT. MANSION. LIBRARY & HALLWAY. NIGHT (PAST)

Frances’s retreating point of view as she retires from the library crowded with the spies smoking cigars.

Backing out, ignored, her hands close the doors, catching a faint wisp of cigar smoke.

We remain outside these antique doors staring upwards at the wisp of cigar smoke, listening to the hum of their confidential chatter.

Cigar smoke and chatter. All that we’re privy to.

FLASH BACK TO:

INT. MANSION. SECRET STUDY. NIGHT (PRESENT)

Frances toys with a stick of chalk. She cracks it into three uneven chunks. And places them on the steel table.

FRANCES

Three spies at the heart of his organization. And Charles didn’t see them. Worse still, he defended their reputations when suspicions arose. They were men like him, dressed like him, spoke like him, fucked like him. Well, two did, anyway. They were his friends. Agents were lost. Operations compromised. When the three finally defected we were disgraced, removed from the service, exiled from power, left to rot, in this place, guarded night and day by agents for fear that we too might be traitors.

(beat)

I took to drink. For a while. I became promiscuous. For a while. Scandal engulfed me. But it couldn’t go on. Behaving like that. You either step into the abyss. Or step back from it. You cannot walk along its edge for long.

Danny reacts. Frances observes him. They’ve shared this.

FRANCES (CONT’D)

You know this... edge?

DANNY

Yes.

FRANCES

Alex was your step back? He was mine too. I decided to have a child. He’d be my future. My saviour. My second chance. I’d make him the spy I should’ve been. My spy. Made by me.

(beat, upset)

It was a mistake.

Danny considers carefully.

DANNY

Not a lie. Not the truth.

FRANCES

For once your intuition lets you down.

DANNY

(musing)

“You decided to have a child”.

(beat)

Fuck old Charles and see what happens? Not much of a plan, considering how stupid you think he is. But luck was on your side. Your child was a genius?

FRANCES

Be very careful what you say next.

DANNY

I want to tell you a story.

Frances is off balance. Sensing danger.

DANNY (CONT’D)

About a man.

FLASH TO:

INT. DANNY’S APARTMENT. BEDROOM. NIGHT (PAST)

Late at night.

Danny and Alex are sitting cross-legged on the floor of the darkened bedroom, opposite each other.

The apartment’s quiet. With the giddy zeal of a new couple they’re sharing stories and secrets.

ALEX

While other people were laughing. And drinking. This man would just walk.

EXT. THAMES. SOUTHBANK. DAY (PAST)

Dusk on the river. A warm summer evening. Crowds drinking in bars and restaurants.

Alex walks alone, smartly dressed, as if he were on route to meet a partner or a date.

He appears confident, assured, content.

Alex weaves through, reaching the railings by the river, opening the gate leading to the steps down to the water.

ALEX (V.O.)

Until he reached the exact same spot --

He descends the steps and sits on the lower level with the air of someone who has done this before, looking out at the sunset behind Waterloo Bridge.

Cut off from everyone else. Unapproachable.

ALEX (V.O.)

Where he’d sit, with his back to all those people --

Unseen by those on the promenade, Alex’s melancholy eyes concentrate on the fading sunlight.

ALEX (V.O.)

While he did everything to signal to the world that he wanted to be left alone --

INT. DANNY’S APARTMENT. BEDROOM. NIGHT (PAST)

Danny opposite Alex.

ALEX

(continuing)

-- more than anything, he hoped someone would understand that what he really wanted, was the exact opposite, and that this ‘someone’ would sit next to him. And strike up a conversation.

(beat)

I was that man. You were that someone.

FLASH BACK TO:

INT. MANSION. SECRET STUDY. NIGHT (PRESENT)

Danny has finished telling Alex’s story.

Both Frances and Danny are upset. For once, Frances is unable to fully conceal her emotion.

DANNY

Why was he so lonely?

FRANCES

(weak)

I put too much pressure on him. I made him too important in my life. It was unfair. I realize that now. No child can redeem their parents.

Danny takes out the reassembled family portrait. The messed up vertical strips - Dad. Mum. Danny. Mingled.

DANNY

Hard to connect to people. When you’re not sure how they’re connected to you.

He shows her the family photo. She holds it, perplexed.

DANNY (CONT’D)

For an hour or two I hoped my real parents were real parents.

Danny studies Frances’s reaction. And she understands what he’s talking about but pretends not to.

Danny walks to the door. He leaves the study.

INT. MANSION. CORRIDOR. NIGHT

Danny walking away.

Frances stands in the doorway.

FRANCES

Daniel!

Danny continues walking. Frances follows.

He reaches the stairway and descends.

INT. MANSION. DECAYING KITCHEN. NIGHT

Danny enters the enormous decaying kitchen.

The room is completely dark. Except for a solitary gas ring. A blue circle of light in the corner.

The Nanny sits on a wooden stool, her back to Danny, a pitiful figure, face part illuminated by the blue.

On the gas ring is a saucer: she’s warming some milk. She registers Danny in the room. But does not turn around.

Danny walks forward, reaching the stove, looking down at her. She looks up at him.

And she knows that he knows.

She stands, ashamed, unable to hold his look, stirring the milk, diverting her energy into menial tasks.

NANNY

I was a state, Danny. I didn’t deserve to be his mum.

Frances catches up, entering the kitchen. And assesses in an instant that the secret is out.

The nanny finishes the milk. Pours it into a mug. She puts it down, ready for Danny.

And now takes up a subservient position behind Frances.

The master. And the servant. The two mothers.

FRANCES

Surely you can’t be so conventional as to think there’s only one way to bring up a child? We are both his mother. Neither one less real nor more real than the other. I took care of his mind. She took care of his other needs.

The Nanny seems content with this insane description.

DANNY

He didn’t know?

FRANCES

Of course not.

DANNY

Except he did. Didn’t he? He knew.

FRANCES

On some level... maybe... He was very young when it happened. At the time she was working for me. And stealing. I went to her house, to threaten her with the police if she didn’t return the items.

(remembers)

I’ve never seen anything like it.

FLASH TO:

INT. SQUALID HOUSE. LIVING ROOM. DAY (PAST)

From Frances’s point of view:

The most wretched conditions. Damp & dirt. Empty booze bottles. Heroin paraphernalia. Savage poverty.

And then the sound of a child crying --

INT. SQUALID HOUSE. BEDROOM. DAY (PAST)

A cold bedroom, as wretched as the living room.

Little Alex at the back of the room. Three years old. Eyes red, sniffling, he’s no longer crying.

Instead, at the large three panel window, he draws on the condensation formed because of the cold.

The entire window is filled, not with numbers, but with patterns and shapes. They’re intricate & self taught.

As beautiful as any church stained-glass window.

INT. SQUALID HOUSE. LIVING ROOM. DAY (PAST)

From Frances’s point of view:

We open a silly children’s colouring book. Instead of blocks of crude crayon colour, we see more remarkable lattice patterns. Mathematical precision.

Not the product of education. An expression of raw genius. Page after page after page.

FLASH BACK TO:

INT. MANSION. KITCHEN. NIGHT (PRESENT)

Frances continues.

FRANCES

If you’d seen him... if you’d seen the conditions... No father. No mother to speak of. She thought the boy disturbed. Damaged by her drink. And drugs. I saw how precious he really was.

(beat)

We came to an arrangement.

DANNY

“An Arrangement?”

FRANCES

I would be the boy’s mother.

For the first time Frances turns to the Nanny. She nods at her and allows her to speak.

NANNY

I’d be his nanny.

Frances turns back to face Danny.

FRANCES

He’d be provided for in every way. Every opportunity. Every comfort.

DANNY

Charles agreed?

FRANCES

He resisted, initially.

(beat)

He was persuaded.

DANNY

You can persuade anyone. Of anything. Can’t you?

Danny stares at the Nanny but she does not look him in the eye, keeping her glance down, at the floor.

No hint of sexual relations between these women.

FRANCES

In this society it’s not enough to be born brilliant.

FLASH TO:

INT. MANSION. ALEX’S BEDROOM. DAY (PAST)

Little Alex’s vast bedroom. With the four poster bed.

He’s dressed for boarding school. Blazer. Tie. Cap.

In front of him is the antique boarding school trunk. Filled with books. Far advanced for his age.

FLASH BACK TO:

INT. MANSION. KITCHEN. NIGHT (PRESENT)

Frances finishes the story.

FRANCES

I opened up a world that would’ve been closed to him.

DANNY

He didn’t belong there. He wasn’t you. He wasn’t like you.

FRANCES

A few years, that’s all I asked. And then he was free to do whatever he wanted.

DANNY

Such as end all lies?

FRANCES

(angry)

A sentimental, ridiculous notion.

(sad)

I warned him...

Frances almost talking to herself again. A touch of madness returning to her speech.

FRANCES (CONT’D)

I tried to save him...

She appears quite sick with grief at the memory.

FRANCES (CONT’D)

I tried...

FLASH TO:

INT/EXT. CAR / ALEX’S APARTMENT BUILDING. NIGHT (PAST)

Frances in the back of a car, watching as --

EXT. ALEX’S APARTMENT BUILDING. NIGHT (PAST)

Danny rings the doorbell one final time. The night Alex disappeared. No answer.

INT/EXT. CAR / ALEX’S APARTMENT BUILDING. NIGHT (PAST)

Frances in the back of a car, watching. Now we reveal in the front car are two intelligence officers with her.

EXT. ALEX’S APARTMENT BUILDING. NIGHT (PAST)

Outside, Danny on the steps. Grim-faced. He walks into the street and looks up at the flat window.

The terrace. The bedroom. No lights. Silent.

He glances around. At the car where Frances is sitting. The windscreen is tinted. He can’t see in.

INT/EXT. CAR / ALEX’S APARTMENT BUILDING. NIGHT (PAST)

Frances sees Danny. He does not see her. She watches as he walks away. The intelligence officers turn to Frances.

EXT. ALEX’S APARTMENT BUILDING. NIGHT (PAST)

Frances walks towards the building. Flanked by two intelligence officers. She reaches the front door.

It opens. An intelligence officer inside.

She enters --

INT. ALEX’S APARTMENT BUILDING. STAIRWAY. NIGHT (PAST)

The door closes behind her.

The building is dark. Silent. And ordinary. No sign of anything unusual.

Frances follows the agents up to the first floor landing. The door to the apartment opens.

She enters --

INT. SECURITY SERVICE APARTMENT. NIGHT (PAST)

Bustling activity. A room filled with agents. Diverse - international. Saudi. American. Israeli.

A bank of video screens showing live footage from Alex’s apartment and attic.

This is the equipment that created the outlines we saw in the surveillance apartment in the opening scenes.

Frances is directed to the bedroom.

INT. SECURITY SERVICE APARTMENT. BEDROOM. NIGHT (PAST)

A female intelligence agent stands guard as Frances gets changed. She takes off her shoes.

In front of her are crime-scene-style forensic plastic over-suits. Gloves. A surgical face mask.

INT. ALEX’S APARTMENT BUILDING. STAIRWAY. NIGHT (PAST)

Wearing the plastic overalls, the gloves, the face mask, Frances climbs the final set of stairs.

The door to Alex’s apartment opens. She enters --

INT. ALEX’S APARTMENT. HALLWAY. NIGHT (PAST)

The agents inside Alex’s apartment are wearing forensic overalls just like Frances.

The atmosphere, unlike downstairs, is hushed and precise.

They indicate the ladder up to the attic.

Frances climbs up --

INT. ALEX’S APARTMENT. ATTIC. NIGHT (PAST)

The attic has not yet been staged.

But we see some of the ‘props’ - the old televisions, the furniture, the sex toys - in a corner, waiting.

The attic is a raw empty space. Not gloomy and dark. Brightly lit. Stark-white-lights.

The boarding school trunk is flat, not on its side. A different position to how Danny discovered it.

Frances walks towards it.

At the trunk, she crouches down, placing her plastic covered hands on the top. About to speak --

The agent overseeing the attic moves forward, showing Frances a stop watch, counting down.

Five minutes left.

Frances waits with her sleeping child.

INT. BOARDING SCHOOL TRUNK. ATTIC. NIGHT (PAST)

Alex folded up inside the trunk, limbs compressed.

The sedatives are wearing off. He opens his eyes.

He’s dripping in sweat. The oxygen levels are already low. His breath is shallow.

He has no idea where he is. He explores the texture of the trunk with his fingers.

From confusion to panic.

He attempts to kick but his legs can’t stretch out. He tries to punch but his arms can’t extend.

He rocks back and forth, turning the trunk on its side, upside down. Nightmarish rotations.

But the case is sturdy. Unbreakable.

He hears --

FRANCES (V.O.)

Alistair!

Alex stops moving, panting with exertion. He listens.

FRANCES (V.O.)

Alistair?

He’s relieved.

ALEX

Frances?

INT. ALEX’S APARTMENT. ATTIC. NIGHT (PAST)

Frances places her plastic-gloved-hands on the trunk at the place where she can see the curve of Alex’s body.

FRANCES

Alistair.

INT. BOARDING SCHOOL TRUNK. ATTIC. NIGHT (PAST)

Alex sees her hand through the material. He touches it. Their hands together yet separated by the trunk.

INT. ALEX’S APARTMENT. ATTIC. NIGHT (PAST)

Frances touching the trunk.

The agent stands over her, watching carefully.

FRANCES

Listen to me carefully. We don’t have much time. You’re in a great deal of trouble. But there’s a way out. Do you understand?

She waits, nervously.

INT. BOARDING SCHOOL TRUNK. ATTIC. NIGHT (PAST)

Alex dripping in sweat. He realizes Frances is working with the agencies. Sadness comes over him.

FRANCES (V.O.)

Alistair!

ALEX

I understand.

INT. ALEX’S APARTMENT. ATTIC. NIGHT (PAST)

Frances trying to sound calm and collected, but in reality frantic and fearful.

FRANCES

It’s all been arranged. This is a warning.

(voice breaks)

You’ll go to America, to work, for a few years. A new identity. A new name. A new life. But you must leave everything behind. This project...

A flash of frustration and anger.

FRANCES (CONT’D)

What were you thinking?

She quickly adjusts, back to the solution.

FRANCES (CONT’D)

All you have to do is say yes. You’ll be flown tonight. No bags. No belongings. All you have to do is agree, Alistair. All you have to do is agree.

INT. BOARDING SCHOOL TRUNK. ATTIC. NIGHT (PAST)

Alex listens. He considers.

ALEX

I agree.

FRANCES (V.O.)

Will you go to America?

ALEX

I’ll go.

FRANCES (V.O.)

You have to say it clearly.

ALEX

I’ll go to America.

FRANCES (V.O.)

Will you destroy your research?

ALEX

I’ll destroy it.

FRANCES (V.O.)

And never work on it again?

ALEX

And never work on it again.

FRANCES (V.O.)

You’ll leave it all behind?

Alex pauses, realizing what she is referring to.

EXT. VAUXHALL BRIDGE. DAWN (PAST)

The moment on the bridge. From Alex’s point of view.

Handsome, forlorn, lost, Danny, absorbed in the pantomime of his thoughts.

Alex watching, a few metres away.

Danny eventually realizing he’s being watched.

He turns. That first look.

INT. ALEX’S APARTMENT. ATTIC. NIGHT (PAST)

Frances nervous, her face close to the trunk.

FRANCES

(desperate)

Alistair, you must never make contact with anyone from this life again?

INT. BOARDING SCHOOL TRUNK. ATTIC. NIGHT (PAST)

Alex contemplates.

ALEX

(a whisper)

His name is Danny.

FRANCES (V.O.)

Alistair?

ALEX

I’ll never speak to him again.

INT. ALEX’S APARTMENT. ATTIC. NIGHT (PAST)

Frances, by the trunk, crying with relief. About to unlock the trunk when the agent stops her.

He gestures that he’ll deal with it. She needs to go downstairs. She nods.

But before Frances goes, she returns to the trunk, and pulls down her surgical mask.

FRANCES

It will be a new start for us too. You’ll hate me. For a while. But I love you very much.

INT. BOARDING SCHOOL TRUNK. ATTIC. NIGHT (PAST)

Alex hears those words.

ALEX

I love you too.

INT. ALEX’S APARTMENT. ATTIC. NIGHT (PAST)

Frances, at the stairs, glances back --

She descends.

INT. ALEX’S APARMTENT. HALLWAY. NIGHT (PAST)

The waiting agent gestures for Frances to go to the door.

INT. ALEX’S APARTMENT BUILDING. STAIRWAY. NIGHT (PAST)

Frances descends to the first floor apartment. Feeling overwhelming relief. She enters --

INT. SECURITY SERVICE APARTMENT. NIGHT (PAST)

All the equipment has been set up to decipher Alex’s responses. They’re playing back the exchange.

The computer is analyzing his voice. Tone. Stress.

There’s a buttonhole camera inside the trunk: focused on Alex’s facial expressions.

It maps the lines in his skin. The direction of his eyes. Pupil dilation. The flutter of his eyelids.

Frances is puzzled by the process, as she watches.

ALEX (ON SCREEN)

I’ll go to America.

FRANCES (ON SCREEN)

Will you destroy your research?

ALEX (ON SCREEN)

I’ll destroy it.

FRANCES (ON SCREEN)

And never work on it again?

ALEX (ON SCREEN)

And never work on it again.

FRANCES (ON SCREEN)

You’ll leave it all behind?

On screen we see Alex pausing, realizing what she’s euphemistically referring to.

On screen we see Frances nervous, her face by the trunk, waiting for the answer she desperately wants.

FRANCES (ON SCREEN) (CONT’D)

(desperate)

Alistair, you must never make contact with anyone from this life again?

ALEX (ON SCREEN)

(a whisper)

His name is Danny.

FRANCES (ON SCREEN)

Alistair?

ALEX (ON SCREEN)

I’ll never speak to him again.

FRANCES (ON SCREEN)

It will be a new start for us too. You’ll hate me. For a while. But I love you very much.

ALEX (ON SCREEN)

I love you too.

The computer continues to process the information. Running Alex’s own programme on his responses.

Fear creeps into Frances’s expression.

The computer returns a verdict - statement by statement.

Never work on research again. A lie.

Leave it all behind. A lie.

Never make contact with Danny. A lie.

And finally, whether he loves Frances. A lie.

FRANCES

It’s wrong.

The agents simply look at her. Inscrutable.

FRANCES (CONT’D)

It’s wrong!

Making no progress. She changes tack.

FRANCES (CONT’D)

I’ll go back up. I’ll talk to him.

I’ll explain it. He’ll listen.

An agent moves behind her, blocking the door.

There are no second chances.

FRANCES (CONT’D)

He didn’t understand, that’s all. I can persuade him. He’ll listen to me. He’ll listen to me!

Becoming agitated, she turns, to force her way out.

FRANCES (CONT’D)

Let me speak to him!

The agent doesn’t move.

FRANCES (CONT’D)

Let me speak to my son!

Another agent secures her.

Frances fights. She fights as if her own life depends on it. She’s strong. And it’s hard to contain her.

FRANCES (CONT’D)

My son!

Several agents overwhelm her. One agent readies a needle.

INT/EXT. OFFICIAL CAR / MOTORWAY. NIGHT (PAST)

Frances is on the back seat. She opens her eyes, groggy, barely able to move. Two agents are driving her home.

EXT. MANSION. GROUNDS. DAWN (PAST)

Frances steps out of the car. Woozy with the journey and the drugs and grief. She drops to her knees.

Charles is waiting on the steps. He does not comfort her. He does not speak.

The car drives off.

The groundsman stands watch.

Frances, wretched, left on the ground, on her knees, before the mansion, not staring at Charles.

Staring at the Nanny, in one of the windows.

FLASH BACK TO:

INT. MANSION. SECRET STUDY. NIGHT (PRESENT)

Frances has finished her story. With emotion and grief.

Danny has listened. With emotion and grief.

The nanny, subservient. With emotion and grief.

Frances is expecting fury and anger and outrage from Danny. But he has another idea.

DANNY

I know a police officer.

Frances is dismissive in a weary kind of way.

FRANCES

You fail to grasp what has been done to you. The fact you know the truth is irrelevant. No one will publish anything you say. No one will investigate your claims.

(fundamentally)

No one will believe you.

DANNY

But they’ll believe you.

The idea that she could go to the police has never even crossed Frances’s mind.

DANNY (CONT’D)

You’re his mother.

Danny says that to both of them.

The Nanny looks up, seduced by the idea. She looks at the back of Frances’s head, waiting for her decision.

DANNY (CONT’D)

What do you owe them?

Frances toys with the notion.

DANNY (CONT’D)

You gave them your son?

The prospect flutters through Frances’s thoughts with redemptive energy.

FRANCES

(intrigued)

Tell me... Were I to agree... What would we do?

DANNY

We’d tell the truth.

Frances is tempted. Desperately so. Behind her, the nanny is also desperate for her to say yes.

But it is as though this oppressive mansion speaks to her, reminding her of her place. Frances shakes her head.

FRANCES

I can’t.

Danny directs his attention to the Nanny. It infuriates Frances. She doesn’t turn around, speaking for the Nanny.

FRANCES (CONT’D)

She can’t.

DANNY

(to the nanny)

I want to hear it from you.

FRANCES

You’ve heard it from me.

Danny doesn’t give up, addressing the Nanny.

DANNY

His name was Alex. His real name. The name you gave him.

FRANCES

She won’t help you.

DANNY

(referring to Frances)

She renamed him. But you let it slip, didn’t you? Deliberately?

FRANCES

She can’t help you.

Wracked with grief and powerlessness, tormented, the nanny can’t take any more.

She hurries out, through the door, into the grounds - outside - into the darkness of the night.

The door remains open, wind gusts through the kitchen, rattling plates and pots, extinguishing the blue flame.

FRANCES (CONT’D)

It’s time you left.

Danny goes to the door, looking after the Nanny.

FRANCES (CONT’D)

She’s gone.

INT. MANSION. STAIRWAY. NIGHT

Danny sadly follows Frances up the stairs. He has everything. He has nothing.

INT. MANSION. CORRIDOR. NIGHT

A dark corridor. Danny follows Frances, trying to think of what he can say, to snatch victory from defeat.

But she flows through this mansion, decision fixed, rigid in her determination. And Danny can only follow.

INT/EXT. MANSION. HALLWAY / GARDEN NIGHT

Danny and Frances turn into a corridor and both come to an immediate stop.

Unlike the previous corridor, which was dark and gloomy, this corridor is bright, with a fierce orange light.

Danny and Frances, surprised, move to the window --

EXT. MANSION. MAZE. NIGHT

From the centre of the maze, geometrically precise lines of fire forming. It’s the route out of the maze.

There’s a delay. And then a new line of fire is lit.

INT. MANSION. HALLWAY. NIGHT

The geometric lines of fire reflected in the window.

Danny and Frances watch, silent, stunned.

EXT. MANSION. MAZE. NIGHT

The nanny appears at the entrance to the maze, throwing down a petrol can.

She lights the last strip of hedge. And now the complete route out of the maze burns.

INT. MANSION. HALLWAY. NIGHT

As the maze burns in the window, Danny looks to Frances, watching her expression.

She’s engrossed in this fire, as if it were a piece of theatre, her eyes alive, again, to possibilities.

EXT. MANSION. MAZE. NIGHT

Grief stricken, powerless, the nanny drops to her knees before this fire memorial to her son.

Ignoring her, the groundsman sets about trying to extinguish the fire. But it’s out of control.

EXT. MANSION. HALLWAY. NIGHT

Geometric lines of fire reflected in the glass. Danny looking at Frances.

DANNY

For her son.

Frances turns to him - her expression faltering.

DANNY (CONT’D)

All she could do.

Unsteady, her certainty shattered, it takes a supreme effort to turn her back on the fire.

Frances continues towards the front doors.

Danny watches her go. Angry & frustrated.

DANNY (CONT’D)

It was all she could do!

His voice echoes around the space.

INT. MANSION. GRAND HALLWAY. NIGHT

Frances stands by the door, holding it open. Her stance is formal. She’s recovered her poise. And her decision.

Danny stands before her.

DANNY

Just a stupid boy?

Frances looks him the eye. Ice cold. Danny sees nothing in those eyes. No hope. No chance.

EXT. MANSION. GROUNDS. SUNRISE

Danny walks to his car.

When he looks back, the front door is shut. Without a goodbye. In haste. Just as his own mother did.

INT/EXT. CAR / MANSION GROUNDS. SUNRISE

Danny at the wheel. Exhausted. Emotional.

He leaves with nothing.

Suddenly the car door opens and Frances gets into the passenger seat. She shuts the door.

She seems breathless and excited. She looks in the rear view mirror at the fire and smoke. She looks at Danny.

FRANCES

Let’s burn them down for real.

Elated, giddy, younger, lighter, happier.

Danny in disbelief. He does nothing.

FRANCES (CONT’D)

We should probably ‘hurry’.

Danny starts the car.

And he drives, picking at speed, excited, nervous, unsure what is happening or about to happen.

He checks on Frances.

Her expression is of great happiness & warmth.

Danny looking at the mansion in the rear view mirror.

No one seems to be after them.

Frances seems happy, as happy as when Alex held her hand.

Danny looks forward. The path is clear. Escape certain.

And then, the Groundsman steps out, at the end of the drive, holding a hunting shotgun.

The groundsman raises the gun, takes aim.

In an attempt to avoid the shot, Danny swerves.

The groundsman fires, knocking out the front tyre, which explodes in a shower of rubber.

The car loses control, off the drive, through the grass, shuddering to a stop.

Frances has knocked her head on the dashboard. Blood runs down her forehead. A superficial injury.

The Groundsman approaches, reloading.

But he simply stands, and waits.

Charles, dressed for a walk in the country, gets into the back seat of the car, addressing Frances.

CHARLES

Frances Mary Taylor.

She touches her head, looking at her bloody fingertip.

FRANCES

Yes.

(beat)

Yes.

(beat)

Yes.

Charles gets out.

Frances turns to Danny.

FRANCES (CONT’D)

I see why Alistair fell in love with you.

She steps out of the car.

After a beat, Danny also steps out.

EXT. MANSION. GROUNDS. DRIVEWAY. NIGHT

The Groundsman stands over them. Clearly he’s a security agent, sent to guard the couple.

With blood streaming down her face, Frances addresses this agent, with Lady of the Manor formality, as though he were staff, an illusion he is happy to maintain.

FRANCES

You’ll change his tyre?

The groundsman nods.

Charles and Frances head back towards the mansion.

Danny watches them go.

EXT. MANSION. GROUNDS. DRIVEWAY. NIGHT

Danny sits on the gravel, watching as the groundsman replaces the front tyre he shot out. It’s surreal.

And then Danny sees smoke - a fire is burning behind the mansion. Plumes of acrid-dense smoke.

Danny stands. He walks towards it, speed increasing until he’s running, and running fast.

EXT. MANSION. GROUNDS MAZE. NIGHT

Danny runs around the mansion, arriving at the maze.

It’s on fire. The desiccated hedgerow bushes burning.

Danny loops round to the entrance.

He enters the burning maze.

EXT. MANSION. MAZE. NIGHT

Danny crouched, through the burning maze.

Cans of petrol deposited like bread-crumbs.

Some of the hedges are completely ablaze, others less so. Danny follows the trail of fire, until he reaches --

EXT. MANSION. CENTRE OF MAZE. NIGHT

Danny enters the centre of the maze, seeing the nanny, seated beside the statue of the limbless male angel.

She’s looking at the mansion while the maze burns.

Danny turns to see --

At the window to Alex’s bedroom stand both Charles and Frances, watching the fire.

Danny also watches the maze burn.

Everyone seems quite calm. As though this were normal.

In the end, Danny sits beside the nanny. She takes his hand, as she must have taken Alex’s many times in the past, and they watch the fire burn.

EXT. MANSION. CENTRE OF MAZE. DAWN

Sunrise.

The blackened bushes smoulder. Danny turns to the nanny.

DANNY

You can’t stay here?

She seems surprised by the idea.

NANNY

Why not?

Danny thinks the charred maze is sufficient reply.

NANNY (CONT’D)

I’ve worked in this house for twenty five years.

Danny still isn’t convinced.

NANNY (CONT’D)

These people prize loyalty above all else.

She stands.

NANNY (CONT’D)

Everything will stay the same. We’ll go back to how it was before. All of us, the same. Except for you.

She disappears into the maze.

However, after a moment, she returns.

NANNY (CONT’D)

He’s buried at St. Thomas’s Church. It’s not far...

And with that she disappears into the charred maze.

Danny looks up at the faceless anonymous statue.

INT/EXT. SCOTTIE’S CAR / MANSION. DAY

With the car fixed, a new tyre, Danny pulls out of the grass, back onto the gravel drive.

He stops - one last look in the rear view mirror.

Frances and Charles stand at the top of the steps.

Frances takes hold of Charles’s hand. And they stand there, a couple.

The groundsman, still with his gun, to one side.

And at the window to the mansion is the Nanny.

Danny drives off.

EXT. ST THOMAS’S CHURCH. GRAVEYARD. DAY

A picturesque rural church.

Danny walks through the tombstones, searching.

He finds Alex’s gravestone.

Engraved on it is the name ‘Alistair’.

INT. ST. THOMAS’S CHURCH. DAY

Danny enters the church. The information. He finds a comment card and a pen.

EXT. ST. THOMAS’S CHURCH. GRAVEYARD. DAY

Danny places the note on Alex’s grave.

Written on it is:

“Alex - I found you - you found me - love Danny”

INT. SCOTTIE’S HOUSE. LIVING ROOM. DAY

Danny throws opens the blinds, sunlight floods in.

INT. SCOTTIE’S HOUSE. STUDY. DAY

Danny gets together pens and notebooks.

EXT. SCOTTIE’S FRONT GARDEN. DAY

Danny takes the bike from the garage. He sets off.

EXT. PRIMROSE HILL. PARK. DAY

Danny cycling down at speed, towards the city.

EXT. LONDON. DAY

Danny cycling through London.

EXT. UCL. MAIN QUAD. DAY

Danny locks up his bike. With his bag he walks towards the entrance. The quad is crowded with students.

But we hold back. Not following him inside. The many other students weave in and out of frame.

In the distance, one among many, Danny climbs the steps. And enters the building.

He’s gone.

We linger for a while, watching the other students on the steps and campus: the energy of hopes and ambitions.

END OF SERIES