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  Danny crouches, examining the marks.

  Not from the bathroom.

  He stands and follows the footprints out --

  INT. ALEX’S APARTMENT. LIVING ROOM. NIGHT

  Danny traces his own footprints. They lead back to --

  INT. ALEX’S APARTMENT. BEDROOM. NIGHT

  A spot in front of the wardrobe. There’s a damp patch on the floor. A small puddle.

  Danny looks up at the ceiling and sees a corresponding damp stain on the white ceiling.

  He steps onto the bed, examining the ceiling more carefully. It’s soaked. Something leaking through.

  INT. ALEX’S APARTMENT. HALLWAY. NIGHT

  Danny staring at a small steel handle in the ceiling. An access panel. Concealed. Hard to spot.

  INT. ALEX’S APARTMENT. HALLWAY. NIGHT

  Danny stands on a chair. He grips the handle and pulls. With a jolt down come a flight of stairs.

  Evidently, from his reaction, Danny has never seen this before. He looks up.

  A faint flickering light beckons him.

  DANNY

  Alex?

  He climbs the steps.

  INT. ALEX’S APARTMENT. ATTIC. NIGHT

  Danny climbs up through a narrow portal-like gap, entering a dark & unsettling space.

  Imagine climbing into the inside of a hollow timber brain, sloping shallow lobes at the front, high in the middle, shallow at the back.

  This is a raw attic space. Exposed beams. There are no windows. Not continuous with the apartment.

  And yet...

  In the very centre, the hub of this space, is a mattress. A bed. Disturbed sheets. But not set up like a domestic bed.

  It’s a Japanese style low bed. With no headboard. There are lights underneath creating a pool of soft light around the bed. Noirish & enticing.

  Opposite the bed is a wardrobe. Much like the wardrobe we saw in Alex’s bedroom. Except instead of white this one is black.

  Hanging from the ceiling, creating a clearly defined zone, is a circle of soft glow exposed filament bulbs.

  Each beautiful bulb hangs from an individual wire. Each beautiful bulb is a slightly different height creating the effect of a halo around the bed, the shape of which mirrors the pool of light on the floor.

  This is someone’s special space.

  The whole set up fits into a single frame - a single image.

  Someone has taken time and care to create this place.

  Danny is amazed. What-the-fuck-is-this? It’s odd and intriguing and beautiful all at the same time.

  Danny is drawn forward.

  In order to reach the bed he must pass through the cordon of orange bulbs, he brushes them aside and they swing back and forth behind him, like wind charms.

  Danny looks down at the bed. The sheets are expensive. Crumpled. Used.

  The pillows are arranged, but not for sleeping.

  On one side of the bed is a cabinet. And on it is an antique Victorian box. Danny opens it. A music box. A ballet figure turns. A song plays slowly, warped and distorted.

  Danny explores this box further. He lifts up the ballet figure. Underneath her we discover --

  Set up like a Victorian chemist, exquisite glass jars. Inside the jars are powders, liquids, pills.

  Poppers in a glass bottle. Danny sniffs. Powders in glass bottles. Of different kinds. Some crystals. Some chalk fine.

  There’s a silver straw. A mirror.

  Danny empties some of the white powder onto the mirror. He touches it, leaving a clearly defined white finger print.

  He tastes the powder. He recognizes the drug.

  And now he notices above the bed: a series of mirrors. Not just one, but several rectangular mirrors arranged in a lattice shape. Danny stares up at his multiple reflections.

  And beyond the mirror, on the ceiling is sound proof foam.

  The entire attic has been insulated. Danny stands on the bed and squeezes it, as though trying to understand it.

  He looks down, seeing Alex’s specialist laptop on the other side of the bed, on the floor.

  Danny sits on the edge of the bed, beside the laptop.

  He touches the strange metal keypad.

  The screen comes to life. The laptop has been connected to a bank of screens. They all come to life. Bright light.

  Grainy footage begins playing on the screens - hard to distinguish. Sexual in nature. Pleasure that sounds like pain. A man. Gay porn.

  Danny shuts the laptop, turning the screens off, plunging the attic back into the previously soft orange light.

  And now Danny turns his attention to the wardrobe.

  In a direct parallel of the apartment sequence Danny opens the doors --

  Instead of Burberry suits there are sex suits, carefully hung up, glossy black leather. Perfectly smooth. A discrete zip down the back. Beautiful stitching and expert craftsmanship.

  One after the other.

  They’re works of great skill. Expensive.

  Danny looks down. There are boxes underneath the suits.

  He opens one, coming face to face with a mask, mounted on a plastic head, black plastic eyes staring at him.

  A zipper for a mouth.

  Now Danny crouches down, opening the drawers under the wardrobe doors.

  Again we parallel the apartment footage.

  Instead of ties, in the first drawer, we find ropes, carefully arranged, in neat knots, some fine, some coarse.

  Neatly arranged, from the thickest to the finest.

  In the drawer below we discover sex toys - dildos, butt plugs. Not cheap, expensive, each in a special case.

  Everything perfect. Everything beautiful.

  Danny stands. Confused. He shuts the wardrobe door and as he does he sees something behind the wardrobe.

  Beside the glow of a heater is the boarding school trunk we saw earlier on the walk.

  On its side, upright, like an obelisk.

  There are clear damp marks around the base. The timbers it rests upon are soaked.

  For the first time Danny becomes scared.

  He takes a step towards it, pushing his way out of the ring of bulbs which sway back and forth behind him.

  Danny looks down, noticing the scratch marks on the floor.

  He crouches, running his finger over the timber scratch marks, as though they told the story of what happened here.

  And they do...

  The scratch marks lead from the bed to the trunk.

  This trunk has moved from its original position.

  Danny walks forward, for the first time reacting to the smell.

  He examines the liquid coming out of the lip. Not water. Thicker. Glop. Translucent.

  He reaches out, touching the top of the trunk, testing its weight - very heavy...

  Danny covers his nose. The smell is overwhelming.

  The trunk has two combination locks, one on each side.

  Forcing himself, Danny presses on the top rusted steel lock. It springs up with a loud click.

  Danny presses on the second.

  It clicks open, and as soon as it does, a hiss of noxious air and the trunk is forced open, thick ooze flows from the gap all over his hand.

  A rush of body matter.

  Shocked, Danny lets go.

  He sits on the floor, staring.

  In the crack that has opened up in the trunk we see the shadowy shape of a man. Horrifically decomposed.

  But in the darkness we see an eye.

  Danny stares at this eye.

  We hold this moment. Eye to eye.

  And then Danny scrambles back, running to the stairs.

  Stumbling as fast as he can towards the vertical shaft of light, the outside world, the portal, the steps --

  INT. ALEX’S APARTMENT HALLWAY. NIGHT

  Danny takes the first few steps at speed and loses his footing, tumbling down and landing hard on his back.

  His breathing is panicked.

  On his back, terrified, he stares up at the attic.
He takes a moment. Then slowly stands.

  He reaches for the telephone. A portable phone. He picks it up. But then sees on the back of his hand --

  A small clump of skin. Human hair visible.

  He drops the phone. It smashes on the floor.

  Danny runs to the bathroom.

  INT. ALEX’S APARTMENT. BATHROOM. NIGHT

  Danny is sick in the toilet.

  Finished, he scrubs his hands obsessively, using a nail brush, until the skin begins to bleed.

  He continues. The sink turning red.

  Slowly he calms down. He stops washing his hands.

  He takes out his mobile and dials 999.

  INT. ALEX’S APARTMENT. LIVING ROOM. NIGHT

  Danny waits. He sits. Breathing deeply.

  His eyes come to rest on the smashed home phone - the bits spread across the floor.

  Including the battery.

  Danny picks up the battery and stares at it.

  INT. ALEX’S APARTMENT. HALLWAY. NIGHT

  Danny at the bottom of the stairs, looking up to the attic. Struggling with an idea. He holds a hand towel which he twists into an improvised mask for his mouth.

  Danny climbs the stairs.

  INT. ALEX’S APARTMENT. ATTIC. NIGHT

  Danny tentatively enters the attic. The trunk has largely emptied.

  Danny has no option but to look in its direction.

  It’s a struggle. The smell: he gags.

  But he remains focused. His attention is on the laptop.

  Danny walks towards it.

  His actions are uncertain, acting on instinct, not knowledge. He takes hold of the laptop, flipping it over and opening the battery case.

  Danny takes out the battery and peers at it. Something wrong. A crack down the side. He breaks it open --

  The battery case is hollow.

  Inside is a small cylindrical object, taped in place.

  Danny pulls it free, examining it. We can’t identify what it might be. Wrapped tight in plastic tape.

  We hear the sound of police sirens.

  Danny hurries to the stairs. About to go down.

  But then a thought occurs to him. He returns to the laptop and hastily reassembles the hollow battery. And puts it back in place. He wipes his prints off.

  The police sirens are getting louder.

  Danny hurries to the stairs.

  EXT. ALEX’S APARTMENT. TERRACE. NIGHT

  Danny opens the terrace doors, looking out.

  Seven police cars have pulled up outside.

  The officers are in a hurry.

  Danny looks at the cylinder.

  He hides it in his pocket.

  The intercom system rings loudly.

  INT. ALEX’S APARTMENT. HALLWAY. NIGHT

  Danny at the intercom.

  On screen we see the police officers.

  Danny buzzes them in.

  He looks down at his pocket. The cylinder is clearly visible. He takes it out. And stuffs it in his sock.

  There’s a loud knock on the door.

  Danny is about to open it when he has second thoughts about the cylinder in his sock --

  Leaving the door shut, he runs to the kitchen.

  INT. ALEX’S APARTMENT. KITCHEN. NIGHT

  Danny opens the fridge door, grabbing a bottle of water. He takes the cylinder and puts it in his mouth.

  The knocking on the door is urgent and angry.

  POLICE (OFF SCREEN)

  Open up!

  Danny gulps the water, swallowing the cylinder. We should see it forced down his neck.

  POLICE (OFF SCREEN)

  Open the door!

  The knocking is now so loud it feels like they’re going to smash the door down.

  Danny is red faced. We think he’s going to choke. But it goes down. With excruciating difficulty.

  He hurries to the door.

  INT. ALEX’S APARTMENT. HALLWAY. NIGHT

  Danny opens the door.

  A wall of police officers flow into the apartment.

  THIS SCENE IS CUT

  INT. POLICE STATION. INTERROGATION ROOM. NIGHT

  Stark white. The room is strange, disorienting and bizarre. Proportions odd. Abattoir-like.

  Danny is seated. No lawyer present.

  The Detective opposite him is in her forties: Detective Taylor. Her hair is cropped short, not as a style, but having returned to work after chemotherapy.

  She makes no reference to this, a silent fact, imbuing her character with a sense of experience, wisdom, and world weariness. Sagacity & lassitude.

  There’s a second officer present but we’re not interested in them. This is between Danny and Taylor.

  Danny is emotional. Confused. When he sips a coffee his hand trembles. All of which is noticed by Taylor.

  DANNY

  His name is Alex.

  (beat)

  He’s my partner.

  (beat)

  It’s his apartment.

  (beat)

  He disappeared two weeks ago.

  Danny is puzzled by her implacable silence.

  DANNY

  (hopeful)

  You think it might not be him?

  DETECTIVE TAYLOR

  Tell me what you know about ‘Alex’.

  Danny thinks the question absurdly broad.

  DANNY

  What I know?

  (struggling)

  He’s a genius...

  (beat)

  DANNY (CONT’D)

  He went to university at the age of fifteen...

  (beat)

  No family...

  (beat)

  His parents are dead...

  (beat)

  Works at an investment bank...

  (upset)

  What else do you want?

  Detective Taylor reaches into a folder taking out a photograph of Alex and placing it in front of Danny.

  He picks it up.

  DETECTIVE TAYLOR

  Do you know this man?

  Danny is thrown.

  DANNY

  This is Alex.

  DETECTIVE TAYLOR

  Your partner?

  DANNY

  Yes.

  DETECTIVE TAYLOR

  What kind of relationship did you have with him?

  Suddenly Danny is wary of her. Of this room.

  DETECTIVE TAYLOR

  Did it involve sadism? Drugs?

  Not moralistic. She’s matter of fact.

  DANNY

  No.

  DETECTIVE TAYLOR

  You see - it’s hard for me to believe you were in a serious relationship, when you don’t even know his name.

  Danny in disbelief. Taylor watches his reaction closely. Danny’s instinct is to protest but he loses his nerve.

  Taylor takes the photograph, holding it up.

  DETECTIVE TAYLOR

  This man is called Alistair.

  (beat)

  DETECTIVE TAYLOR (CONT’D)

  His parents are alive.

  (beat)

  He did not work for a bank.

  Silence. Danny is bewildered.

  DETECTIVE TAYLOR

  Is it possible that you enjoyed extreme sexual encounters with someone who didn’t want you to know their name? With someone who wanted that side of themselves a secret?

  Danny bewildered as this alternate history of their love story is mapped out, with evidence and facts.

  She puts down photographs of the extreme and provocative sex instruments found in the attic.

  DETECTIVE TAYLOR

  Is it possible?

  Photographs of the drugs. Of the video footage.

  DETECTIVE TAYLOR

  Is it possible?

  More and more photographs. A layer of them over the image of Alex/Alistair until he can’t be seen.

  Danny is utterly defeated. Sure of nothing.

  Suddenly the door opens.

  An officer walks in and whispers something in Taylor’s ear. She seems surprised.
r />   She leaves the room.

  Danny gently sweeps away the crime scene photos, revealing the photo of Alex/Alistair.

  He stares at him.

  Detective Taylor re-enters. She seems concerned.

  DETECTIVE TAYLOR

  Would you agree to being searched?

  INT. POLICE STATION. SEARCH ROOM. NIGHT

  The room is similarly bizarre. Abattoir white.

  Danny stripping down. Clothes in a tray.

  The officer carrying out the search leans close and whispers in Danny’s ear.

  OFFICER

  If I reckon you’re enjoying it I’ll break your fucking jaw.

  The officer’s eyes are full of hate. Danny too baffled to make a response.

  The door opens.

  A well dressed lawyer enters. With Taylor just behind.

  EXPENSIVE LAWYER

  This will stop. Right now.

  Danny stares at this unknown man.

  INT/EXT. BLACK CAB / LONDON. DAWN

  Danny and Scottie are on the back seat.

  DANNY

  He lied. About everything.

  SCOTTIE

  When we met --

  DANNY

  You knew?

  SCOTTIE

  Not exactly. Our paths had never crossed. But I recognized the type of person he was. I see them in the corridors of Whitehall. People with power. And secrets. Their importance emanates from them. I felt it strongly in his presence.

  Danny doesn’t follow. He doesn’t understand.

  Scottie looks at him with affection. He’s an innocent.

  SCOTTIE

  Danny, he was a spy.

  The age of innocence comes to an end.

  EXT. DANNY’S APARTMENT BUILDING. DAWN

  The taxi has parked. Waiting. Door open. Danny is on the street. Scottie beside him.

  DANNY

  I’m not sure how I’ll ever be able to repay you.

  They embrace.

  Scottie moves to the cab but as if struck by an afterthought, he stops and turns.

  SCOTTIE

  Danny, the police are concerned you might have taken something from the crime scene. Some personal item. Something of sentimental value. But you wouldn’t have done that, would you?

  Danny looks at his brilliant friend. And for the first time doesn’t quite trust him.