A Tricky Game

© Seraphima Nickolaevna Bogomolova, 2018

ISBN 978-5-4490-8473-6

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

FADE IN:

In the light of street lamps, big fluffy snowflakes swirl down, covering ground with a thin layer of snow.

MALE VOICE/DMITRY VORONOV (V.O.)

Before you, silently I sway.

In vain, I feel this agitation,

In vain, I cast a glance your way:

I’m sure that I will never say,

What freely says imagination.

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. NIGHTCLUB (MOSCOW) – NIGHT

A silver Bentley tears out of the night, WHIZZES along the curb and stops before the club, leaving an imprint of its tires in the new snow.

A stunning woman in her 30s, wearing an evening dress, – ANGELA – steps out of the car.

At the door to the club, a HOSTESS, a crimson-lipped smile attached to her otherwise expressionless face, welcomes Angela in.

INT. NIGHTCLUB (MOSCOW) – NIGHT

The insistent beats of MUSIC slam across the room.

Angela makes her way through the crowd of raving CLUBBERS and dancing STRIPPERS towards an elegant businessman in his late 40s, – KAZIMIR STANKEVITCH.

Seated at the table by the stage, Kazimir draws on his cigar, watching the movements of a STRIPPER#1, wrapping her tanned body around the pole.

Angela approaches Kazimir and extends her hand to him. He grabs it. His lips parted, Kazimir is about to impresses them on her hand, but Angela pulls it away.

KAZIMIR

(grinning)

Are you playing with me?

ANGELA

I think you enjoy being played with.

KAZIMIR

It depends.

ANGELA

On what?

KAZIMIR

On the game.

Angela sits down and lights up a cigarillo. Kazimir fixes his gaze on her rouge lips, encircling the chocolate tip of the cigarillo.

She draws on it, releasing a blow of smoke towards Kazimir.

He turns away and motions at a WAITRESS.

A silver ‘bucket’, filled with bottles of Krug champagne nestled in the crashed ice, is placed on the table.

Kazimir takes a bottle out and pours champagne into the glasses.

KAZIMIR

To our agreement.

ANGELA

As you wish.

KAZIMIR

Do you think it really matters what I wish?

ANGELA

It depends.

KAZIMIR

On what?

ANGELA

On your wish.

Kazimir leans forward and brings his glass to hers. The crystal glasses meet, releasing a CLINK.

Angela takes a sip of the champagne then puts her glass down on the table.

ANGELA (CONT’D)

I have to go.

KAZIMIR

Please stay.

ANGELA

Are you tempting me?

KAZIMIR

I’m indulging you.

Angela stands up. Kazimir grabs her hand, pulling her towards him. She pulls away. He tightens his grip, enjoying the sensation it produces, then lets her go.

Angela walks away, engulfed by the crowd of the CLUB REVELLERS.

Kazimir motions at the stripper#1, throwing some bank notes into her direction.

The stripper#1 slowly edges towards him, stripping as she goes in the throbbings of neon light.

EXT. MOSCOW – NIGHT

Pulsating with myriads of lights, the city pushes in and out sparkling flows of the night traffic.

INT. ANGELA’S BENTLEY (MOSCOW) – NIGHT – TRAVELLING

Angela sits in the back seat, looking out. Her head leans against the car window.

The DRIVER turns the radio on. A mellow JAZZ tune of Dream A Little Dream of Me by Doris Day flows out. It fills in the car, as the street-lights flash by, blurring into colourful smudges before Angela’s eyes.

EXT. ANGELA’S HOUSE (MOSCOW) – NIGHT

A street stretches out into the night.

On the one side of it, a seven-storey modern residential building stands. Opposite, a half-built building is coated in darkness. A crane towers over it.

INT. HALF-BUILT BUILDING/TOP FLOOR (MOSCOW) – NIGHT

A silhouette of a broad-shouldered man in mid 30s, wearing a military navy-blue jacket – PAVEL NEKRASSOV – is visible in a large window gap. Pavel stands, looking down onto the street. Next to him, on a pile of bricks a takeaway box is placed.

Pavel reaches for the takeaway box, fingers out a plump pirozhok and bites in.

INTERCUT

The silver Bentley pulls up before the residential building. The driver gets out of the car and opens the door.

Angela steps out, goes to the entrance and walks up the stairway of the brightly lit entrance.

INTERCUT

Playing with his gun, Pavel points it in the direction of the residential building. His finger on the trigger, he munches on the pirozhok and looks down.

A crow flies in, brushing Pavel’s face with its wings. A GUNSHOT shatters the night.

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. HOSPITAL (MOSCOW) – DAY

Angela lies in bed, the golden waves of her hair spread on the pillow. Her eyes open, she takes in the surroundings: the blue bareness of the hospital walls, the white sheets, the transparent plastic of the bedside table.

A NURSE enters, places a vase with pink tulips on the bedside table and walks out.

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. MOSCOW – NIGHT – DUSK

The street lights come on, casting beams of light upon the snow-powdered streets of the city.

INT. HOSPITAL (MOSCOW) – NIGHT – DUSK

Angela gets out of bed, goes to the window and looks out.

INERCUT —

The windows in high-rises light up one by one.

INERCUT —

Angela goes back to bed. Lying, she stares out into the darkness for a while then closes her eyes.

The door opens noiselessly.

A young man in his late 20s, wearing a black silk mask covering upper part of his face, – DMITRY VORONOV —, quietly slips into the room.

Silhouetted in the dim light, coming from the window, he softly approaches the bed.

SILENT, he stands and gazes at Angela.

MALE VOICE/DMITRY VORONOV (V.O.)

Your fair eyes were sad and bright,

And voice was so sweet,

As sound of a pipe apart

Or murmur of the sea.

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. HOSPITAL (MOSCOW) – DAY – MORNING

Angela opens her eyes and reaches out to the heads of pink tulips in the vase on the bedside table. Her fingers touch their delicate petals.

The door swings open.

Kazimir strides in and throws a bouquet of red roses on the bed. Falling out of the bouquet, the crimson flowers fan across the white sheets.

Kazimir comes over and looks at Angela’s bandaged arm.

KAZIMIR

What’s happened?

ANGELA

I’ve no idea.

KAZIMIR

Are you serious?

ANGELA

As serious as I can be.

KAZIMIR

I do not find it funny.

ANGELA

Neither do I.

Kazimir takes Angela’s hand and impresses his lips on it. She winces.

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. THE RITZ-CARLTON HOTEL (MOSCOW) – DAY – LATE AFTERNOON

A Mercedes-Benz S500 pulls out of the swirling snow and stops under the hotel’s portico.

Out of the car steps a distinguished looking GENTLEMAN in his late 70s.

The HOTEL PORTER rushes to open the door for him.

INT. THE RITZ-CARLTON HOTEL/O2 LOUNGE (MOSCOW) – DAY – LATE AFTERNOON

The panoramic windows offer a view of the Red Square, covered in snow. Across the Square, the towers of the Kremlin silhouette in the distance.

A row of egg-shaped red and gold damask covered armchairs runs by the windows.

The Gentleman approaches one of the eggs, sits down in it and motions at a WAITER#1.

A cup of steaming espresso is swiftly placed on his table.

The Gentleman pulls his cigar case out and lights up a cigar. Puffing on it, he sips espresso and waits.

INT. THE RITZ-CARLTON HOTEL/O2 LOUNGE (MOSCOW) – DAY – LATER

A man, aged 30, with a travel bag on his shoulder and a laptop case in his hand, – JUAN MACBRIDE – enters the lounge.

Quickly scanning over the egg-shaped armchairs, MacBride heads to the bar counter and sits down on a stool.

The Gentleman rises out of his armchair and, coming over to MacBride, extends his hand to him.

THE GENTLEMAN

Welcome to Moscow Monsieur MacBride!

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. MACBRIDE’S FLAT ((MOSCOW) – NEXT DAY – DAY

On the bed, face down, MacBride lies. The daylight sifts through black organza curtains, framing the tall windows of the room. His clothes are scattered on the floor. Dirty paper plates and empty beer cans crowd the coffee table.

The mobile RINGS, stops and RINGS again.

MacBride lifts his head.

The mobile keeps on RINGING.

MacBride peels off the bed and scans the floor around him. Spotting his jeans, he picks them up, drags his mobile out of the pocket and hits ‘answer’.

MACBRIDE

(into the phone)

Yeah?

PAVEL (V.O.)

Hey, Mac.

MACBRIDE

(into the phone)

Pavel…?

PAVEL (V.O.)

Yes, man. Where have you been?

MACBRIDE

(into the phone)

Me?

PAVEL (V.O.)

Yes, you. I’ve been trying to get you since yesterday.

MACBRIDE

(into the phone)

I… was in a club. I met some girls…

PAVEL (V.O.)

You… fucking shit!

MACBRIDE

(into the phone)

Yeah, whatever, just get over here.

MacBride jabs the phone off. Staring at the mess around him, he catches a sight of a white envelope. He picks it up and tears it open.

A single typed note and a bunch of keys fall out.

MacBride reads the note.

INSERT —

Dear Juan,

Take the keys. Go to my flat and wait for me there.

Angela

The DOORBELL rings.

INT. MACBRIDE’S FLAT/HALLWAY (MOSCOW) – DAY

MacBride undoes the lock and pushes the door open.

Pavel, holding a large grocery bag in his arms, steps back, as the door swings by.

PAVEL

Hey, I’ll need to fix you a Russian cure for that hangover!

INTERCUT

Pavel goes to the coffee table. Clearing the empty beer cans and dirty plates off it, he puts his grocery bag down and starts unpacking it.

INSERT —

a big jar of pickles, a bottle of vodka, and a Stolichnaya sausage.

BACK TO SCENE

MacBride sits down on the sofa. The note still in his hand, he glances at it then pushes it toward Pavel.

MACBRIDE

I had a note delivered to me.

Taking his coat off, Pavel joins MacBride on the sofa.

PAVEL (CONT’D)

(reading the note)

So, they want you to go to her flat and wait?

MACBRIDE

Looks like it.

PAVEL

Looks more like bullshit to me.

MACBRIDE

If this looks like bullshit to you then why would they want me to go there?

PAVEL

No idea, man.

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. ANGELA’S HOUSE (MOSCOW) – THREE DAYS LATER – DAY

Cleared off slush, the stairs of the entrance glisten in the sun.

The silver Bentley pulls up. Angela steps out and heads into the building.

The driver follows her, carrying the two bouquets, pink tulips one and red roses one, and a brown leather overnight bag.

INT. ANGELA’S HOUSE/7TH FLOOR (MOSCOW) – DAY

Angela comes to the door with the “7B” set in brass in the wood panelling and rings the DOORBELL.

The lock CLICKS and the door opens.

MARIA ALEKSEEVNA, a stern looking woman, aged 60, in horn-rimmed old-fashioned spectacles, wearing a red apron, streaked with flour, over the dark blue woollen dress, opens the door.

Angela glances at the apron and smiles.

ANGELA

Zdrastvuite, Maria Alekseevna.

Maria Alekseevna brushes the flour streaks off her apron.

MARIA ALEKSEEVNA (CONT’D)

Zdravstvui, Angela. Welcome back.

INT. ANGELA’S FLAT/HALLWAY (MOSCOW) – DAY

Angela heads along the hallway into one of the rooms.

The driver hands the two bouquets and the overnight bag to Maria Alekseevna and leaves.

EXT. ANGELA’S HOUSE/sTAIRS (MOSCOW) – DAY – LATER

MacBride and Pavel walk up the stairs, heading into the building.

INT. ANGELA’S HOUSE/7TH FLOOR (MOSCOW) – DAY

At the door to the flat “7B”, MacBride and Pavel share a hesitant look. Pavel brings his head to the door and listens then nods to MacBride. MacBride takes the key out and slides it into the lock. It CLICKS.

The door opens.