Seraphima Nickolaevna Bogomolova

A Tricky Game


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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