DESMOND (to driver): My friend is going to London. She’s a spy. She has to find a Russian double agent at M.I.6.
CAB DRIVER: Cool. Where to?
Flashback of Clara’s entire life in roughly one minute. Smiling as a child. Sledding on a snowy hill. Her parents’ execution by a Russian gang. An idyllic college campus. Playing school soccer. Her teammates’ execution by a Russian gang. Moving to New York. Going to a party. Everyone at the party being killed by a Russian gang. Training at Langley. Then back to present day. Establishing shot of London.
A TITLE: London. England. Where M.I.6 is located. The “M.I.” stands for “Military Intelligence.” It’s where spies work. And where Clara is going to find a double agent. Look. There she is now. You remember her.
Clara walks into M.I.6, but, as she does so, she turns to camera and mouths, “I’m Clara the spy.” She also smiles and does a raised-eyebrow thing, like, “Can you believe this shit?”
Cut to an office overlooking the Thames, which is a river in London, which is the capital of England. A man looks out the window as Clara enters, his back to her.
MARTIN: Chanel No. 5.
CLARA: No, it’s Clara.
The man is Martin, and as he turns we see that he is very handsome and does not look like a double agent, but he is.
MARTIN: I meant your perfume. You smell like my nana.
CLARA: Oh. Thank you.
MARTIN: So. You took the train from Paris.
CLARA: Yes.
MARTIN: And your parents were murdered by a Russian gang.
CLARA: Yes, they were.
MARTIN: O.K. then. Well. I’d like to give you the chance to go after them. But know that it’s dangerous. And it might lead to surprising discoveries.
CLARA: Like what?
MARTIN: I had nothing to do with it.
Martin hands her an address.
MARTIN: I just handed you an address here in London. That’s where the Russians are, in a safe house not far from here. Maybe go kill them.
CLARA: O.K. You and I had sex once.
MARTIN: I know that. I was there.
CLARA: Let’s not let the sex we had interfere with this assignment to kill the Russians here in London.
MARTIN: We won’t. We’re professionals. God, you’re pretty. Let’s have sex.
They kiss and have sex. Later, in bed . . .
MARTIN: I’m not a double agent.
CLARA: I never said you were.
MARTIN: Good. Then it’s settled.
CLARA: I’m going to go kill the Russians at the address you gave me.
MARTIN: Thanks.
Exterior shot of a town house in Mayfair. Inside, tough-looking Russians speak in Russian, saying things like “Is fun to kill!,” which is subtitled, and then laugh and toast with vodka. These guys love killing, and also vodka.
Clara bursts through a window and kills them all.
CLARA: That’s for my parents and my soccer team and those people at that party.
Clara turns to see Martin aiming a gun at her.
MARTIN: Remember when I said that I wasn’t a double agent?
CLARA: Yes.
MARTIN: I was lying.
CLARA: So you’re a double agent.
MARTIN: That’s what I’m saying, yes.
CLARA: And you’re going to kill me.
MARTIN: Basically, yes. Because I’m a Russian double agent.
They stare at each other.
CLARA: You think you can pull the trigger faster than I can reach into my bag, which is by my feet, and find my gun amid the other stuff in the bag and aim it at you and fire?
MARTIN: I do_ . . ._
Clara quickly kneels, going through her bag, removing lip balm, tissues, a half-eaten bagel, her phone, Werther’s candies, and, finally, her gun.
MARTIN: You make me laugh . . .
Except in the time it took Clara to do all that, Martin has spaced out. Clara shoots Martin, and he falls dead. Well, almost dead.
CLARA: I just shot you dead.
MARTIN: I can’t believe you just shot me dead.
We might cut to the fountain at Saint-Sulpice. But we might not, as that was mentioned a long time ago and no one will remember. But if we were to cut to the fountain at Saint-Sulpice, where Desmond waits alone . . .
CLARA: You waited.
DESMOND: You told me to earlier. Although I was just about to leave.
CLARA: Thank you.
DESMOND: Did you find and kill the double agent?
CLARA: Yes. I shot him. And I cleaned out my Birkin bag.
DESMOND: Cool. We had an amazing launch for the new drink.
CLARA: I’m happy for you.
DESMOND: Let’s have sex.
They laugh because it’s a stupid idea.
Note: Throughout, we may employ a stage manager, not unlike in “Our Town,” to describe precisely what’s happening. ♦
